There exists a parallel rock universe where Rory Gallagher riffs with The Rolling Stones, Paul Rodgers hollers ‘Smoke on the Water’ and Terry Reid fronts Led Zeppelin. Known as the ‘what if ? void’, it contains other cultural gems such as Casablanca with George Raft and a version of War And Peace by Enid Blyton (you decide which is true).

In the case of Terry Reid, the ‘what if?’ is usually mouthed, à la Terry Malloy in On the Waterfront, as, ‘I could have been a contender’. Disingenuous in the extreme. Indeed, if Superlungs had joined Page et al, then the music world would have been all the poorer. No River? Unthinkable. In fact it’s unthinkable imaging him playing second fiddle to anyone or surviving within the conventions of a rock band of which he is not conductor-in-chief.

Too willfully independent, easily distracted and every inch his own man, he has carved his own eclectic musical path, one that seems constantly out of time and immune to changing tastes and fashion. An artist every inch marching to his own beat.

All of which makes his return to a Dublin stage an expectant, but ultimately rather curious affair that leaves one feeling frustrated. Why? Well distraction can easily turn to sloppiness, idiosyncrasy to shuffling incoherence.

Playing solo and reworking material from a body of work that covers five decades, Reid has adopted an abrasive and corrosive style of playing, that tends to steamroll any of the nuance and subtle mood shifts that are the hallmarks of tracks such as ‘River’ or ‘Brave Awakening’. The shambling guitar work, rambling non-sequitors, and distracted stage presence result in a performance devoid of emotional connect.

This is all the more disappointing given that at times there are moments of sublime beauty – the laid back vocal stylings in ‘River’, a Stephen Stills style scratch through ‘Rich Kid Blues’, or the part protest song, part love song, part paean to pain, ‘To Be Treated Right’.

The vocals are still a powerhouse to behold, though there is more grit and gravel at the high end these days. Perennial crowd pleasers ‘Brave Awakening’ and Brian Wilson’s ‘Don’t Worry Baby’ are wheeled out to enthusaistic yelps from the floor. But this was something of an unmoving experience that had a faded cabaret feel to it made all the more poignant and frustrating for the small glimpses of what could have been.

Come back to the five and dime Terry Reid.