Raye’s irresistible charm

Raye is an apologist of the first order. Laying out your excuses before judgment is a well-worn strategy among aspiring perfectionists – and music is not short of those. But Raye – the British pop sensation born Rachel Keen – is a champion caveatter, throwing out context, preambles and confidences as enthusiastically as she delivers her emotive songs.

The jazzy R&B singer – winner of a historic six Brits in one night in 2024 – has just opened her UK tour in a sold-out, 23,500-capacity venue. It is a two-hour, old-school, big band jazz revue show that showcases her range, charm and top-tier songwriting, and introduces long-awaited songs from a record out next month. This Music May Contain Hope looks set to continue her narrative arc from frustrated record company prisoner to vindicated independent artist. (Her old label Polydor refused to release her album but eventually released the artist from her contract.)

Within minutes, Raye is disarming the crowd, letting us know she forgot to put deodorant on. “I prefer to be honest, ’cos if you’re honest, then there’s nothing to be insecure about,” she confides, in the first of many asides that shrink this “bloody huge” venue down to the size of a bolthole.

When a technician accidentally catches Raye’s cable with a mic stand he is clearing away, she is dragged along – playing the hiccup for laughs. The song is Where Is My Husband!, one of the many terrific tracks that have come in fits and starts since Raye’s star-making 2023 album, My 21st Century Blues. “This man is testing me,” she sings, right on cue.

Raye is “so embarrassed” about it. But she will also not be without the cable – her “security blanket”, she calls it. “If you ever see me on stage with a wireless mic, I’m being held against my will. I’m being serious. Call for help.” Clearly, from her sparkly backless dress to her vintage bob to the dozens of experienced musicians who Raye directs with assurance and humour, this is a performer who prefers things done in time-honoured fashion. And if the music ever dried up, she would be a natural fit for screwball comedy.

So much goes on between the songs that This Tour May Contain New Music should be subtitled “An Evening with Raye”. “No one’s got to rush off anywhere?” she asks, eyebrow raised, more than once. Like Adele, Raye is all about connection, not mystique. A new song, Beware the South London Lover Boy, is basically a public safety announcement, backed with 1950s scary movie visuals and a cameo by a stagehand who looks like something between a ski-masked driller and an Addams Family member. “Girls, stay safe out there / Best to stay prepared,” she sings.

Raye warns us she is entering her “dramatic era”. There are more caveats in the run-up to Ice Cream Man, about a sexual assault at the hands of a producer. But this is one apology from which Raye backtracks. Saying the words “rape” and “sexual assault” out loud may be triggering, but they are things that must be named, she insists.

In the midst of music so strong, such editorialising is laughably unnecessary. But some arena acts are ersatz spontaneous; it feels as if Raye is hitting her storytelling marks in the most natural way. She self-castigates for being a wordy writer and for never wearing high heels in the lead-up to Click Clack Symphony – a magnificent new track that stands out even among the best of her latest material. The theme is the rhythm that high heels make hitting the floor; the visuals are a Looney Tunes fever dream of marching stilettos; her almost-rapping is pugnacious.

For all the levity on display this evening, Raye’s musical output is often about raw emotional states – or, as she puts it, “the war between hope and despair”. The night’s opening salvo is I Will Overcome, an almost operatic new track that acknowledges the comparisons Raye has received to Amy Winehouse – not just regarding their jazz leanings but also the difficulties both women have endured, and the scrutiny and abuse they received.

I Know You’re Hurting, Raye says, speaks directly to anyone who is in distress but pretending not to be. “It’s gonna be all right,” she makes us repeat. “I think I’ve drilled the point home,” sheThen, with wry satisfaction, adds: “I think I’ve drilled the point home.”

On this evidence, This Music May Contain Hope will be a suitable successor to My 21st Century Blues: more blues, but with an added commitment to joy. A rave interlude provides more feelgood factor, culminating in her huge hit Escapism. But it’s Raye’s straight talking, both in songs and between them, that echoes long after the final grand flourish of her big band.

“Life is hard,” she reflects. “Do a facemask, have a croissant. It’s gonna be all right!”

Photograph by Sipa US/Alamy Live News Image