Raye at Glastonbury review: ‘A survivor ascends’
An explosion of charisma, plus a dramatic, emotional backstory and some powerful vocals make for a triumphant Glasto debut, writes Attitude’s Jamie Tabberer
A sigh of relief – a collective gasp of “aaaah!” – rippled through the crowd like a Mexican wave at Glastonbury’s Pyramid Stage yesterday, as a small cloud offered brief respite from the blazing sun. It wasn’t the only reminder during solo star Raye’s debut Glasto performance that anything involving a stage and an audience is, in theory, a communal experience, and as such, fertile ground for storytellers.
So it was for this singer-songwriter – “I’m a writer first,” she proudly clarifies – who united the crowd, some of whom were in tears, as she recounted her unusually dramatic career backstory between songs.
You’re probably familiar with it by now: previously best known as a guest vocalist on slightly tacky dance tracks (one of her better ones, ‘You Don’t Know Me’, is penultimate on the set), record label execs once told the star her fanbase would never be “big enough” to support an album. Now an independent artist with a number one record and a sizeable Glasto audience to boot, she had the last laugh.
She goes round the houses discussing the subject during her gig perhaps; between that and her spitfire stream-of-consciousness banter, she may have actually sacrificed songs: towards the end, she was confused as to how many songs she had left. (“Two?!” she enquired, immediately deflating those of us who didn’t want it to end.) This reviewer was frustrated at the absence of ‘Flip a Switch’, the best song on 21st Century Blues that perfectly encapsulates how utterly shit men can be. (“Flip a switch on a prick/I’m a very sound bitch till you cross that line” is one of my favourite lyircs of the year.)
Brash charisma
But if there was an element of chaos to the performance – one memeable moment involved her almost knocking over a keyboard; another her headbanging with her drummer – it only added to her charm. In fact, her brash charisma and soulful, bluesy voice put one in mind of a young Amy Winehouse – a comparison she (unsurprisingly) gets a lot.
In fact, you can just imagine Amy, like Raye, serving barnstorming big band drama on ‘Oscar Winning Tears’, and heated emotion on ‘Escapism’, Raye’s visceral hip hop diatribe about flirting with danger after a break-up. The latter closes today’s show to rapturous applause: I couldn’t help but notice how freely her jazz band rocked out to it. Better still was ‘Black Mascara’, a fascinatingly brutal pop-dance with despairing raps unpacking toxic masculinity.
She calls out men once again during the gig’s high point: an unscripted introduction to ‘Ice Cream Man’, an unbearably moving ballad addressing rape culture in the music industry. While discussing sexual assault statistics, she points out this behaviour affects women and men – a moment of beautiful wisdom and generosity that this writer found very touching. She spoke and sang from the heart, and it was impossible not to beam with pride at her strength.