The Blizzards live at Whelan's, Dublin

It’s approaching the Easter weekend, and there’s signs that Dublin’s about to be invaded, but this time the troops come from the west rather than the east, and in the form of an onslaught of Mullingar maidens whose weaponary includes heels, beers, and ear-piercing cheers. Crammed into Whelan’s along with the usual gig-going Dublin crowd who’ve either followed The Blizzards for the three years they’ve been going, or became interested after hearing their top 10 hit ‘Trouble’, the place is jammers. Well and truly. It takes 20 minutes to get served (I counted), people push past from necessity rather than rudeness, and it’s so swelteringly hot that other people’s sweat sticks to you. Nice.
Obviously on the cusp of greatness, it’s time for the band to penetrate the glass ceiling that curses so many bands. And judging by tonight’s super-tight performance, they’ve the ability to smash right through it. Especially with an ex-rugby player frontman that’s easy on the eye. Their forte – fun time ska/rock, like Hard-Fi if they were mischevious enough to gatecrash a wedding – lends itself ideally to a gig situation. No head is left unbopped, no foot left untapped and they’ve either got diehard fans or they gave lyric sheets out before I arrived.
But I’ve still got reservations, because while there’s girls dancing and boys pretending they don’t want to, while the cheering’s going on, the drinks are being spilt and the heat is getting worse, the songs just don’t resonate. They’re performed extraordinarily well, but they’re mono-emotional and bar joke slowy 'Why Do You Fancy Scumbags?', one-paced.
From the crowd reaction it’s clearly just me, but The Blizzards are one force that doesn't sweep me away.