Last night’s show in Whelan’s was a triumph for the Dublin troubadour Here, fellow artist Jeremy Hickey (aka RSAG) reflects on an evening of high emotion…

Whelan's has an enthusiastic hum about it tonight. It was 25 years ago when they first opened the doors of the venue, for a gig by Dublin-based band The Subterraneans. Since then, some of the biggest names in the business have passed through – including future stars as hot as Arctic Monkeys, The National, Nick Cave, Jeff Buckley and Ed Sheeran, to name but a few.

To celebrate the anniversary, Whelan's are mounting a series of intimate shows with the likes of Glen Hansard, James Vincent McMorrow, Sinéad O'Connor and Damien Dempsey, amongst others, taking centre stage. Tonight is somewhat different, though: fans of Damien Rice have been waiting a whole seven years for the melancholic singer and emotional projectionist to grace an Irish stage. Well, the good news is that he’s back – with a vengeance.

The stage set-up offers a little surprise in the shape of an ancient floor tom, sitting awkwardly on a crate. Damien remarks that during the sound check, he and percussionist Shahzad Ismaily found an old drum underneath the stage and decided to make it part of the show. Ismailly plays without drumsticks: the joke is that all the instrument shops were closed by the time he went out to buy some.

‘Delicate' is a fitting opener, drawing the crowd straight into his intimate embrace, with his signature melancholia. Then it’s straight on to ‘Elephant’, from his 2006 album 9, with it's painful twists and turns. Next up is the Mic Christopher-like 'Woman Like a Man’, which gets the crowd swaying as a unit. The atmosphere is extraordinary. With the bar closed, you could have heard a pin drop.

Someone shouts '9 Crimes’. Damien says shit I normally do it on the piano, as he fumbles over the chord structure. But as soon as he begins the first verse, he's back on track. Thunderous applause follows – and then he pauses to relate the story behind ‘Eskimo’. He explains that he had writers block and threw the guitar at the radiator beside his bed in despair, only to realise that he had risked damaging the guitar irreparably. Rushing frantically to check that it wasn't damaged, he played a random chord – and that chord led to the song….

This is followed by 'The Box' and 'Aimee/Sex Change’.

"If it wasn't for sperm, I wouldn't be here,” he observes matter-of-factly, "but I also wouldn't have gotten into so much trouble.” The crowd laughs. The confession has a ring of truth to it.

Next up is the playfully dramatic 'The Professor & La Fille Dance’, with its Edit Piaf stylings. "Too many options may kill a man,” he sings and you have a sense that there are times when he feels that his indecision may be final.

The highlight of the show arrives during ‘Volcano’, when Damien calmly and confidently divides the crowd into three separate lines and vocal parts. Acting like a somewhat impatient, hungover, school teacher conducting his Orchestra, he gets everyone to rehearse . The people to his left sing: "Volcanoes melt me down”. The people to his right respond: "What I am to you is not me”. Finally, the people in the balcony, fittingly, sing a high – turning Whelan's into a surround-sound theatre for the 4 or so mins the song lasts. Then Damien muses that he thinks we can all do it better. A great moment.

Next up, 'Rootless Tree' has that radio-friendly (not) chorus "fuck you" ripping through it: to me it’s a great portrayal of the frustrations and complications of co-habiting with the opposite sex. He seems to have first-hand experience of being hurt, let down or just ignored by women, which again is why so many of us can relate to his music...

Coming towards the climax, he asks for suggestions as to what he should sing. Amid the clamour, one girl calls for 'Cold Water’. He asks if she can sing… she says yes. Before you know it, she and her friend are unison-singing what had been Lisa Hannigan’s part in the original recording. It’s a great way of involving the audience.

This leads straight into an audience-drenched ‘Hallelujah’, Damien stepping back from the mic to join in with the audience, rather than other way round. It’s a fine rendition, more in the vain of Jeff Buckley than Leonard Cohen. The crowd erupts as he exits awkwardly.

The encore opener, of course, has to be ‘Cannonball’, the crowd mouthing along with each and every word. He then performs an unknown song from which the line “Long Long Way to the Top' stands out: it might just be the title. That’s followed by a surprisingly fresh version of 'Black is the Colour’, which he makes his own, repeating the line "I love the ground on which she stands” like a mantra.

He follows it with 'I Remember', inspired by the thought that one day he is going to die; and the resulting question: if he had to name one thing he'd want to achieve above all else before death, what would that be? Wealth? Romance? Another album? Yes, maybe. Then he pauses and says, in a careful, deliberate voice: "The one thing I would most like to do before I die is to be myself – and not care about what other people want me to be, even just for one moment.”

It’s time for a joke. "I can't take me eyes off of you,” he says, before quickly adding: “Yes I can.” And then he launches into a gorgeous rendition of 'The Blower's Daughter’, delivered with superb authority, much to the crowd’s delight. It is a fitting end to an epic show celebrating not just 25 years of the Whelan's but the return to the Irish stage of one of Ireland’s outstanding, prodigal talents.

Welcome back, Damien…