Review: Jack White

**

Blue is the colour at Jack White's Kilmainham gig: blue backdrop, blue suits and blue guitars to match the cover art of his second solo album, Lazaretto. The only thing missing is a blue sky: a heavy band of cloud hangs over proceedings, bringing a deluge that refuses to yield until the last bluesy guitar riff has been struck two hours later. It means White has his work cut out for him before he even takes the stage; how do you galvanise a horde of waterlogged Dubliners who are silently cursing RTÉ's weatherwoman?

The Michigan man, who launched his musical career in primal blues-punk duo The White Stripes, walks the walk when it comes to stage presence and charisma, although his attempt at solidarity is met with resounding apathy. "Dublin, I'm standing out there in the rain with you," he shouts. No you are not. Nevertheless, he launches into a long, drawn-out passage of bluesy rock, revelling in rock-star cliches as he gleefully throws his head back and jams.

There are plenty of cuts from his White Stripes days, although the lazy manner in which he plays them, particularly the usually stomping Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground, suggests they bore him. Hotel Yorba has more purpose and is given a hoedown spin by fiddle player Lillie Mae Rische, while You Don't Know What Love Is and new solo song Just One Drink inject much-needed Led Zep energy into a flagging setlist.

But all too often White's showboating tips into self-indulgence, as he takes the long way around every song. A slouchy Fell in Love With a Girl cleverly segues into Beck's Where It's At, but lacks the punky agitation of the original. Steady as She Goes, a track by his Raconteurs, is similarly, infuriatingly protracted, as is the usually show-stopping closer Seven Nation Army. If overcooked guitar noodling isn't your thing, it results in a frustrating stop-start momentum. Still, he plays past the curfew and thousands remain in the rain to worship: he must be doing something right, but we're left scratching our sodden heads.