“What is this we’re entering, a church?” one punter grumbles as she’s sternly hushed by the burly bouncer at Dublin’s Crawdaddy. Despite her misgivings, she’s right; tonight, the cosy venue has been transformed into a metaphorical church, and at its altar is an unassuming Londoner clad in black, who’s preaching her mores to an über-reverential audience. In attendance are a congregation of fervent disciples, willing to lie prostrate at Adele Adkins’ feet; others, like your humble reviewer, are curious about the hype, respectful of the album, in awe of the voice, but still not completely won over. All doubters will be gleefully casting their wariness aside over the course of the next half-hour, however, as Adkins delivers one goosebump-raising exercise after another. The majority of 19 gets an airing here, albeit a stripped-down, acoustic one (vocals are supplemented only by piano and guitar). It means that the superb, sample-laden ‘Cold Shoulder’ is foregone – but it also means that the emphasis is placed firmly on that voice. Rich and textured, it glistens, swoops and soars around Crawdaddy, bounces from wall to wall like a firework and explodes above the sold-out crowd. ‘Hometown Glory’ is exceptional, as is her cover of Dylan’s ‘Make You Feel My Love’. The brief set-list is enhanced by Adele’s naturally friendly disposition, and even though she winces that her "banter ain’t good tonight", she promises she’ll be back in May with a full band. I’m a believer. Amen, amen, amen.