Raye review: A healing mix of soul and dance at Dublin’s Royal Hospital Kilmainham

There were moments of magic during Friday's set. Or what Raye herself might refer to as 'music as medicine'

Raye was particularly drawn to a 73-year-old fan in the Dublin audience. Picture: Debbie Hickey/Getty Images

Raye, Royal Hospital Kilmainham, Dublin ★★★★☆

You never quite know what you’re going to get at a Raye gig.

Certainly, on Friday night at Dublin’s Royal Hospital Kilmainham, we couldn’t have predicted a 73-year-old woman would become the main character.

But Raye — birth name Rachel Keane — tells the crowd she wants to know who's come to see her, and asks for shows of hands as she tries to establish the age range of her crowd. She makes her way through the decades; 20s, 30s, 40s… when she gets to the 60s, and hands are still going up, she widens her eyes in shock. When she discovers there’s someone in the front section over 70, Mary, she appears stunned.

“That’s just made my night,” she tells her solemnly, before leading the crowd in chants of ‘Mary, Mary, Mary!’ 

Raye onstage at Royal Hospital Kilmainham on Friday

It’s just one moment where, as fun as it is, it can feel as though things have gone slightly awry. Raye, a soulful singer who perfectly straddles the worlds of dance, R&B, blues and jazz, is also a big yapper. For the most part, her sincerity and enthusiasm make that endearing, but over the course of Friday’s 90-minute set, it does affect the flow and energy of the show. (In contrast, her tight 60-minute festival set at Electric Picnic last year was one of our musical highlights of 2024). 

Still, amongst the banter, there were moments of magic. Or what Raye herself might refer to as “music as medicine”.

Ice-Cream Man, a song about sexual violence and rape, is arresting.

The 27-year-old admits she finds it difficult to perform, “and it doesn’t seem to get any easier". 

"The subject of this song... It’s a very uncomfortable thing to talk about," she says. "I wanted to take this off my setlist, but I don’t think that’s the right thing to do." It wouldn’t be.

On stage, Raye keeps her eyes closed for almost the entire song. And though her voice was close to breaking as she introduced it, there is nothing but power as she bares her soul in song, the crowd falling hushed. 

Raye accepts the BRIT for Album Of The Year with her grandmother. Picture: Gareth Cattermole/Getty Images

The transition into I Know You’re Hurting, an unreleased track about holding on to hope in hard times, offers some release. 

“Life is really tough sometimes,” she muses, "but my mum always said, ‘it’s gonna be alright.’ I want you to hold on to those words, Dublin — it’s gonna be alright.” 

It’s at this stage, we transition into the “fun” part of the set. There’s a taster of club hits Bed and You Don’t Know Me — sufficiently jazzed up to more align with the current (and almost certainly, more authentic) iteration of Raye.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached the nightclub section. Let’s get some blue lights,” she coos. “It’s time for another hit."

From Secrets to Black Mascara, and straight on to Prada, it’s a sweet release now to the finish line, strobe lighting and tecno seeming to go down as well with those here celebrating Leaving Cert results, as the older couples who one might have suspected were here for the full brass band. 

“There’s nothing quite as healing as a musical climax,” Raye observes as the band gear up for  Escapism.

“MARY,” she screams, “CAN YOU FEEL IT?”