The ephemeral intimacy afforded by the cosy and dimly lit Mojo's on Sunday night reinforced the idea that while greater international exposure may be more lucrative and financially rewarding for a world class artist like Paul Dempsey, his solo shows liken him to that rare gem that's kept as a precious artefact and only brought out every once in a while to be marvelled at.

His voice very rarely misses a note but an otherwise stunning falsetto in Bats was briefly interrupted by a frog in his throat, caused by a vicious blast of cold air from the fans above him. After having politely prevailed upon the staff to sort it out, Idiot Oracle was wrought with jubilant emotion, while more subdued numbers like Be Somebody left a lot of space for the lyrics to be absorbed — the obvious effort that goes into their writing almost begs to be noticed and promptly reflected upon.

Whether he's consciously aware of it or not, the thing that Dempsey arguably does best is a capital job of convincing whoever he is playing to that a backing band is not only unnecessary but would almost be an unwelcome distraction. Originally a drummer, his musical expression has always been very much rhythm-centric, as is easily noticed by the uncanny knack he possesses of making a single acoustic guitar sound as though it's delivering the impact of a hundred other instruments, the boisterous Bird In A Basement and The Great Optimist losing absolutely none of their trademark weightiness.

As though his own material wasn't enough, Dempsey brought to mind the still raw sadness of David Bowie's unfortunate passing, delivering a hauntingly beautiful cover of Ashes To Ashes. An obnoxious appeal to cover Calvin Harris and Florence Welch's Sweet Nothing from one lady was surprisingly, albeit reluctantly, received and the spectacular range of Dempsey's was voice on full display, earning him the most ecstatic applause of the evening.