The world is on fire – yet navel-gazing still reigns in pop

There is no better cultural weather vane than pop. It’s not that pop singers possess incredible analytical skills – they don’t. It’s more that it’s in their interests to reflect some prevailing mood. And what people call a vibe shift can often be gleaned by comparing two artists. Take those featured this week: one very much au courant, the other regarded as a searing commentator on 1980s Britain.

Over the past couple of years, Raye – a 26-year-old Londoner – has become rather a star. You may remember that she had a bunch of hit singles early on, but her label showed no interest in releasing an album. So she walked out on Polydor and released My 21st Century Blues herself.

Quite what Polydor were thinking remains a mystery: attractive young women singing relatable songs set to an accessible retro backing is perpetually attractive to listeners, as Adele and Amy Winehouse and scores of others prove.

At the Empire, she certainly boosted the retro side of things – the stage was dressed like an old swing-era nightclub, all in white, with a four-piece horn section, and the band in bow ties. Raye herself was in a plunging red gown, which perhaps afforded the top balcony a view she had not anticipated. The band sounded fantastic – lithe, sinuous and responsive – and Raye’s voice is top notch.

The songs, for all the nostalgic stylings, are very current: she sang about addiction (‘Mary Jane’), sexual harassment (‘Ice Cream Man’), crappy men (‘Oscar Winning Tears’, ‘Black Mascara’), self esteem (‘Genesis’: ‘I Googled why I’m still desperate for validation and sedatives’).

It’s fascinating: the Middle East is on fire; our own government is telling us everything is awful; God only knows what will happen in America.