Editor’s Note: This article is a review and includes subjective thoughts, opinions and critiques.
“Allow me to set the scene,” a smooth voice evocative of Hollywood noir tells the audience. “Our story begins… on a rainy night in San Francisco. Cue the thunder.”
This is the story of a night that started with a girl under a gray cloud and ended in a joyful rave. On Mother’s Day, British singer-songwriter Rachel Agatha Keen, known by her stage name, Raye, stepped out onto the stage of Bill Graham Civic Auditorium in a white fur coat and red satin dress. Following her cinematic introduction, the artist proceeded to paint a gloriously colorful musical portrait on stage, transitioning between R&B, jazz, soul, EDM and pop, all in just two hours. Sunday marked the first California stop of Raye’s studio album tour, “This Music May Contain Hope.” And boy, did it contain hope.
On this not-so-dark-and-stormy-night (but let’s pretend it was for the story’s sake), the air in the auditorium was positively fizzing with exhilaration. Audience members jumped to their feet to belt along to Raye’s powerhouse numbers like “Where Is My Husband!” and “Oscar Winning Tears,” my absolute favorite from her previous album. Raye herself was a dazzling, passionate presence, flinging her red hair back and her arms out, consumed by her own messages and music.
The night kicked off as a family affair: Raye’s first younger sister, Lauren Keen (artist name Amma), opened the evening with some of her own R&B selections, such as “If You Don’t Love Me” and “Talking to Jesus.” Amma’s music brought a slow, spiritual feel to the stage. The most touching part of the performance, though, was Amma’s angelic personality, shown by her pure glee when a fan gifted her a keychain of her album cover.
Abby-Lynn Keen (artist name Absolutely), Raye’s second younger sister, then brought a complete vibe shift with her alternative and experimental pop. I was surprised by how much I loved the contrast between the grungier, emo feel of “No Furniture” and the sweeter, introspective “Paracosm.” From start to finish, there was no shortage of talent from the sisters.
Raye herself was a virtuoso, exhibiting her range not only in pitch but also in genre. In addition to her top hits, there were several moments of scatting and improv, including a jazz club segment featuring a cover of Frank Sinatra’s classic “Fly Me to the Moon” and a saxophone solo. Red lamps, small tables and low lighting brought the scene together, immersing listeners in Raye’s masterful storytelling.
At moments of the show, Raye reached out to her audience with raw sincerity. “You’re meant to be here,” she told the individuals in the hall. “There is nobody else on this planet like you. You are uniquely and divinely, you… I want to encourage you to keep trying… I want to tell you [that] happier times must be ahead. I want to tell you, you are beautiful. I want to tell you, you are good enough. I want to tell you, you will get there. I want to tell you it’s gonna be alright.”
That last sentence, Raye shared, was a motto passed down from her mother to her and now to the audience. There was something special and moving — not to mention apt for Mother’s Day — about her gesture. After Raye’s words, I really felt like everything was going to be alright.
To culminate the emotional portion of the show, Raye delivered her most soulfully-charged song, “Lifeboat,” which filled the space with a sense of unity, support and collective comfort. This was immediately followed by a costume change to a black dress, a strong color shift signaling the theme for the last portion of the performance: empowerment. Embodying this sentiment was her brilliantly liberating song “Click Clack Symphony,” co-created with Hans Zimmer. With lyrics like “she danced under the weight of her clouds / She will save herself this time,” it made me proud to be a woman.
Rounding out the incredibly dynamic showcase of Raye’s work was a rave compilation. Purple and green strobe lights flashed through the air. Audience members waved their arms as if transported to an outdoor music festival with a DJ — a far cry from the refined atmosphere conjured by “Click Clack Symphony” five minutes prior. With EDM hits like “You Don’t Know Me” (a collaboration with Jax Jones) and “Prada/Black Mascara,” the energy was pumping and pulsating. I wanted it to go on forever.
Of course, all good things must come to an end. After announcing an encore, Raye jumped into her last song of the night, “Joy.” Reminiscent of a gospel pop melody, the song brought the artist’s two sisters back onstage as the trio preached freedom, self-celebration and resilience to a congregation that was convinced to their core.
Artists are in the business of storytelling and hope-raising. They might write for themselves, but they need to know that everyone else is still listening. Every now and then, an artist comes along who writes not for themselves, not for their fans, but for humanity. Raye is that artist, and she has the range to prove it. We often say there are jacks of all trades and masters of one. Raye is an eclectic master of all.