Her songwriting ability may be still developing, but Rianne Downey already owned the stage at Oporto, a low-key venue that felt far too small for a vocal talent of this calibre.
It was to be a quiet night for the merch stand attendant at Oporto, a relatively low profile bar in central Leeds that is yet to find its feet amongst the famed venues of Leeds’ independent music scene (namely cosy Hyde Park Book Club, the lovably grungy Key Club and my beloved Brudenell Social Club). The presence of the up and coming Scottish singer had attracted a surprising number of blokes who I suspected were more here for the Guinness available than the popstar’s latest batch of t-shirts. Downey will no doubt face bigger crowds than the one that greeted her in Oporto, a venue small enough for drinks in glass to be permissible and for acts to unceremoniously hop off the front of the stage and into the crowd after their sets simply because there is no backstage area to go to. Still, the fact that Downey sold out Oporto – just like the rest of her headline UK tour – shouldn’t be knocked, and there was a feeling during a set filled out by unreleased material that we were witnessing the very first steps of a promising career.
Perhaps even more impressive than the dense crowd that Downey had summoned at Oporto was her remarkable stage presence. If Downey is a small fry in indie pop circles, clearly no one’s informed her; dressed in dazzling white amongst a greenery-strewn set, Downey was a magnetic performer, engaging the crowd with a flash of her giant sleeves during the songs and delivering relaxed banter between songs. “If you want to, you can meet me at the merch stand later… and if you don’t yous can fuck off!” she blurted out at one point in her Glaswegian twang, triggering a roar of laughter from the crowd.
If Downey is a small fry in indie pop circles, clearly no one’s informed her.
Luckily Downey also has the voice to match her outstanding stage presence. Her vocals exuded the sort of confidence emerging artists aren’t supposed to have and her vibrato was unusually well controlled, occasionally delivered with a musical theatre sheen. There’s plenty of scope for songs with grander climaxes and more challenging melodies to exploit her vocal talents further, but even on the more straightforward tunes Downey’s vocals were the most impressive part of her act.
And so to the songs, which offered a mixed bag. Vibrant, chugging country rock opener Stand My Ground got the gig off to a strong start, with Downey’s three band members offering bulk to the acoustic twang that supported her memorable chorus. Later, Fuel to the Flame was also a poignant highlight, Downey’s endearingly simple chorus wisely given space to shine with a straightforward, unfussy accompaniment. At times, the only problem was that Downey’s voice was a little too good. Paper Wings, one of a large contingent of unreleased songs, had a lovely melody at its heart but an attempt at a showstopping vocal climax awkwardly received only a few half-hearted whoops from the audience. A weedy, undercooked piano backing didn’t help Downey’s cause, and made for a puzzling match to her glitzy vocal performance. It was the accompaniment that also let Downey down on recent standout single Hard, during which the pre-recorded backing track was played so quietly I wondered whether it had cut out completely mid-song. The result left one of Downey’s most assured tracks feeling rather hollow, dragged along by a few bare guitar chords.
Downey’s vocals alone deserve the nationwide attention she is just beginning to receive.
Where Downey can most improve is in her lyrics, which invariably operate in clichés and observations lacking in insight. “You’re a life jacket on a rainy day,” was one particularly clumsy moment in unreleased Dancing In the Rain, and Start Again boils down to gems like “there’s no point in grudges,” and “resentment’s never worth it.” Her magnetic personality – so evident in the inter-song chat – stopped short of the songs themselves, many of which could be about anyone, performed by anyone. It was telling that the line “it’ll be alright, just give it time,” was considered a lyrical highlight enough to be plastered onto the t-shirt merchandise beside me.
Home, an undemanding ode to, well, home, was particularly one-dimensional, but got a surprisingly heartfelt performance in Leeds. Whilst the song had an odd reluctance to build towards a proper, anthemic finale that the percussive guitar strumming begged for, the quietness did at least offer a chance to hear Downey’s fans audibly singing along to the charming little melody. At that moment I realised I had been soundly proved wrong – this wasn’t just a room of men looking for some light entertainment as they down their pints, and Downey’s core of fans very much exists and is no doubt growing. Oporto is undoubtedly humble beginnings but the roots of Downey’s fanbase (which is more varied than my stereotypes allowed) seem firmly set, and her vocals alone deserve the nationwide attention she is just beginning to receive. If she can equip herself with songs that offer a bit more musical bite and lyrics that emulate her exceptional stage presence, much bigger venues and keener crowds await. Takings may be modest for now, but it’s a matter of time before that merch stand becomes a two man job.