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The stage at Vicar St. is littered with candles and the musicians are coiled up on sofas, microphones leaning precariously into personal space, Damien himself perched on the edge of a cushion and cradling his guitar in his arms.

This gig launches O, the debut long player from Damien Rice and his troupe and showcases the organic sounds of one of Ireland’s most talented songwriters. Gently moving through riff and melody, Rice captures brutally honest and pure emotion in a rich, luscious sound, lightly orchestrated with deep cellos and folkish guitars. Its sincerity dispels all potential cynicism and brings the listener down to earth through the songs, cleansing and calming in waves of soft harmonies.

The intimacy of music on record can be a difficult task to recreate onstage, but the atmosphere is relaxed and comfortable, and even in a venue such as this, Rice still manages to disregard the microphone and talk to the crowd without shouting.

Perhaps that’s the most touching thing about Damien Rice. The normality of it. There’s no pomp or show. You feel more like a lucky observer at a jamming session than a punter.

Essentially, the grounding effect of Rice's music is the root of its charm. For all the ceremony and tack that orbits the acoustic movement, it’s reassuring to know that the substance hasn’t been lost. Absolutely stunning.