Roesy live @ Whelans, Dublin

It’s no surprise when Roesy opens his second Dublin gig with the title-song of his latest album, the soulful 'Colour Me Colourful'. What is unexpected however, is that he dedicates it to the Garda who just caught him breaking a red light in an effort to get to the venue on time. Or ‘Sergeant Big-Shot’ as Rosey has renamed him. Not bitter, not bitter at all.
So, things are off to a slightly sarcastic start, and unfortunately the audience isn’t about to offer any relief. As it happens, the guitar tech hasn't turned up for this show, so the amount of between-song tuning required allows for a some extra chatter-time that ultimately bleeds heavily into the quieter songs he plays. While all is hushed down the front, with dedicated fans listening tentively and even singing along (and receiving praise by the man himself), those further back seem to have lost interest altogether. It’s one of those gigs where you wonder if some random punters were let in off the street – because surely no one would pay good money to merely talk, laugh and screech over the music. Or maybe that’s just their idea of fun. Or si it just thtat the layout of Whelan's encourages tghis sort of thing?
By the third song, a clearly irritated Roesy has decided he’ll “play over the yappers for all the non-yappers”. The band, who feature on all but four songs, are suitably colourful: there's the smiliest drummer I have ever seen; Josh Johnson on guitar; a saxist who doubles on clarinet; Ken McHugh swaying and bopping away on guitar in the back corner; Anton Maloney on bass; and finally (for two walk-on parts), songstress Carol Keogh from Tychonaut. On livelier songs like the current single, ‘One Of The Same’, they come together in a fever of animated intrumentation, but it’s the rocker ‘Propellor’ that really stands out.
The band are pitch perfect, tight and disarming and Roesy has the songs – but it still feels like there's something missing tonight. Whether due to an over-audible audience, an unwanted penalty-point or just plain tour-fatigue, the feeling persists that for the man himself all was, dare I say, not quite rosey tonight.