As larger-than-life rock figures go, Meat Loaf is larger and louder than most, and it takes a hangar the size of the Simmonscourt Pavilion to contain the man when he's in full flight. Mr Loaf is currently enjoying a revival of fortune, thanks to cleverly-titled album Bat Out Of Hell II: Back Into Hell, and hit singles such as I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That).
Meat Loaf may have been the king of rock bluster, but lately he's become the court jester, and his brand of overblown, cod-epic rock 'n' roll has become somewhat flatulent of late. On Saturday night, the RDS felt like a giant dancehall, and a tuxedo'd Meat Loaf looked like the biggest wedding singer in the world, trotting out the favourites with the bedside manner of a gameshow host. It was like watching a future version of Robbie Williams: old, out of touch, but still determined to entertain you.
And the crowd certainly ate up all their Meat Loaf, greeting every gaseous hit with roars of approval, and even enjoying the crumbs of conversation which Loaf threw in before, during and after each song. Here's a guy who likes the sound of his own voice so much, he doesn't notice how outdated and misogynistic his theatrical routine sounds today. Paradise By The Dashboard Light, a tedious enough tune on record, is made interminable onstage by a series of shouty exchanges between Loaf and his female singer, Patricia Russo. It was like an episode of I Love Lucy transported to South Park, starring Meat Loaf as a grownup Cartman. Even the giant silver tinsel curtain looked like a cheap cut-out, and when it fell to the ground at the end of the song, you weren't sure whether it was by accident or design.
Meat Loaf's band also featured his daughter, Pearl, who showed her li'l ol' talent with an a capella version of the country standard, Mercedes Benz. The wedding group also treated us to The Rolling Stones' Honky Tonk Women, but their version of Tattoo'ed Lady turned out not to be the Rory Gallagher tune we all know and love so well, but some twee, jazzy ditty which I didn't recognise. And he calls himself a rocker.
Meat Loaf's main stock-in-trade, of course, is in covering the songs of Jim Steinman, the man who wrote Bat Out Of Hell and Bat II. Songs such as You Took The Words Right Out Of My Mouth and Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad, however, sound tired and deflated, and no amount of huffing and puffing can breathe life back into these old rock 'n' roll standards. A final attempt at explosive, theatrical thrills came during the final song, Bat Out Of Hell, when a giant inflatable bat with red, flashing eyes appeared behind the band, and as the cartoon creature loomed over proceedings, the stage suddenly seemed like a giant gas station forecourt, and Meat Loaf's microphone had turned into a petrol pump, pouring out the bombast in a vain attempt to keep this creaky ol' rock 'n' roll truck on the road.
