He’s much smaller in stature than one imagines; more like a friendly Irish lad at the next table in the pub down the road than a pop idol of repute. But on stage it’s clear what he does best: comfortably performing middle-of-the-road pop with enough dashing charm to keep the girls (literally) screaming for more.
His concert last weekend at the Sun City Superbowl brought to mind other recent pop idols: Will Young and our own Heinz Winckler. Ronan Keating’s own beginnings are similar: the members of Boyzone were chosen in an audition where 300 hopefuls pitched up. But where Young and Winckler are, for now, not much more than puppets of their record companies, Keating has managed to launch a successful solo career after the demise of Boyzone. “You can only for so long stand up there and dance and wear funny-coloured T-shirts,” he jokes about the boy band’s break-up.
On his latest album, Destination, his music is more serious, less teeny-bopper; aimed at an older, more mature audience. He admits that his first solo album rode on the back of the Boyzone sound and that he sees Destination as his first real solo album, an all-Ronan effort. And it’s not a bad album – but on stage, unfortunately, it’s just not that exciting. The best word to describe his performance would be pleasant, in the same way a nap on a Sunday afternoon would be: it’s enjoyable and it makes you feel good, but it’s surely not the highlight of the day.
It’s not that Keating is a bad performer. He’s lively, energetic and very attuned to his audience. His charm on stage was endless – when he strode on to stage dressed immaculately in a suit and launched into a ballad, calculatedly flashing his cover-boy smile at the audience, it was magic. His time on stage as part of Boyzone, dancing and prancing to win the hearts of teen girls, obviously has paid off. And he conveyed a lot of feeling with his naughty-boy-next-door face – he seemed to mean every line that he sang.
Unfortunately, it was precisely these ballads, one after the other, that made one’s attention wander. Only when he brought out the livelier or more familiar songs (many of which included covers, such as Tracy Chapman’s Baby Can I Hold You – which she does with much more pathos – and Van Morrison’s Brown-Eyed Girl, and even a Bob Seger cover), did the audience really come alive. His original material mostly failed to do so.
The unusual stage design added much to the concert’s impact, consisting of an inclined platform with sunken holes for each band member – a wonderfully retro look – with an Imax-size film screen as a backdrop. With ingenious lighting effects and beautiful on-screen images, and the result was awesome.
However, despite the overload of slow songs, the die-hard Keating fans in the audience had a good time (but why, oh why do many people still insist on waving their Zippos in the air every time the music slows down?). But I fear those who simply went to see what Keating is all about might think twice before paying good money to see him again.