Villagers - live at Dolans, Limerick

Villagers start their set as they mean to go on – opening with newbie 'Grateful Song', a throbbing, flowing surge so unlike, well, anything on Becoming A Jackal that the direction of the set is obvious.

Conor J. O'Brien and friends – who admit to being “terrifed” - are certainly grateful for the rapturous response at the end of a 16-song set that contains a mere five tunes from their Mercury-nominated, Ivor Novello-winning debut.

Yet Villagers seem assured and deeply confident in the new material, and so they should.

The three-part harmonies and melody of 'Nothing Arrived' are so upbeat as to be surprising, textured and layered with O'Brien's trademark howl.

The slight electro murmur of 'The Waves' builds to a crescendo and is remarkable, not only for the fact that Conor sets down his guitar and bears interesting resemblance to Ian Curtis. He's lost none of his propensity for vivid lyrics, declaring 'one man's innocence is another's chance'.

The bass-lead groove and crashing pianos on 'Passing A Message' stand in stark contrast to the dark and menacing 'Beatitudes', O'Brien's tender vocals delicately brought to the fore.

The acoustic 'My Lighthouse' and 'In A Newfoundland' – the latter with piano – are spine tingling and cause an awed hush to settle in the room.

The rocky, almost spoken word vibe of 'Earthy Pleasure' is the only song that threatens to unravel and seems a bit more raw than the rest. Before the double-whammy finish of 'Set The Tigers Free' and 'Ship Of Promises' sends the audience home happy, Villagers demo an instrumental song called 'Awayland' that flows with waves of guitars and pianos and shows that this is a band keen to experiment, despite the terror of doing so.