Hot, sticky air hangs in a crowded Whelan’s on Saturday evening, as the audience await the overtly soft-spoken Gemma Hayes. Each inhalation feels like an intake of carbon dioxide that has been expelled from several generations of sweaty, danced-out lungs throughout the venue’s 25 year lifespan. One could be forgiven for thinking that a few fans could dramatically increase the comfort levels, but that would mean forgoing a massive element of the charm; even the air has history.

Another aspect of Whelan’s refined charm is its fine balance between bringing fantastic international acts to town and championing and supporting Irish music. One week you could have the biggest pop star in the world donning the stage (read Ed Sheeran) and the next bushy tailed and pimple-faced teens will be flogging their debut EPs to a crowd of three or four interested punters and a hundred-odd friends and family members. Young or old, good or bad, if you’re Irish and you play music, Whelan’s got yo’ back; and that deserves respect.

But it’s not just Whelan’s. Irish people in general have a nice tendency to prop up their musicians. Like a friendly, tea-swilling mafia, we look after our own.

Ms Hayes is no exception to this rule. Having danced along the fringes of alternative music stardom in her home country for over 10 years, she has picked up a decent amount of devoted fans, and not even the unusually hefty ticket price of 26 euro (perhaps a homegrown tax?) can deter them from showing up in droves to show their support.

The singer kicks things off with Dreamt You Were Fine, a cut from 2014’s ‘Bones + Longing’; one of her grittiest and best albums to date. It is with a full band and an electric guitar that Ms Hayes can distinguish herself from unfavourable comparisons to other Irish folk artists.

The story is much the same in a live setting; and the newer songs resonate a lot longer than some of the tepid, over-produced acoustic stuff that came before her latest release (see 2011’s ‘Let It Break’).

The electric guitar of the opener cuts jaggedly, but the clean drums and backing vocals take the edge off. Reminiscent of some of Jimmy Eat World’s earlier stuff, it is not unlike something that might pop up in a US teen drama.

The band perform beautifully from the very beginning, adding invaluable weight to the singer’s delicate vocals.

Making My Way Back is another catchy cut from her latest release. Like much of the record, it benefits from well co-ordinated instrumentals from her backing band. It is light and breezy indie music, and a glove that fits the singer very well.

From here begins the descent into the singer’s back catalogue, and the songs go from pleasant, Real Estate-y nothingness to something that sounds a bit more like a Shania Twain B-side. Back Of My Hand appears to be, shockingly, about her writing something on the back of her hand.

Shock To My System sounds like the singer’s impersonation of Lisa Hannigan performing a Glen Hansard cover; peak-of-the-chorus inflected falsettos et al. Lyrics like “nothing stays the same but nothing ever really changes” don’t deserve to be recorded anywhere ever, and it is painful to further perpetuate their existence.

However, despite the creak of poor craft, the songs are not as detestable live as they are on record, and they are executed with charm by Hayes and her band. Furthermore, the crowd are mesmerised, and many sing along gleefully.

A return to newer material is very welcome, and the raw, beautifully written To Be Your Honey almost makes up for some of what came before it. It is almost hard to believe that such a drastically different quality of song came from the same person.

She signs off at the encore with a moving rendition of There’s Only Love, one of the more pleasant tracks from ‘Let It Break’. A fine performer with doubtless talent, Ms Hayes was let down to some extent on the night by ghosts of her songwriting past, but a crowd of passionate fans could care less.