Tag: The Greek Theatre

A Name That Didn’t Make Sense, Until It Did: A Night with Rainbow Kitten Surprise

Posted on by joshwurz

The name itself started as a joke.

When Ella and Bozzy needed a name for their first open mic night, their friend Noah blurted out the first thing that came to mind: Rainbow Kitten Surprise. It was random, weird, and didn’t make much sense, which somehow made it perfect. That carefree, don’t take yourself too seriously spirit has stayed with the band ever since and has become part of their identity; you can feel it the second you step into one of their concerts. 

Everywhere I looked, there were rainbow outfits, glitter, colorful hair, and people dressed however they wanted. No one seemed worried about being judged. It reminded me of the feeling and freedom you have as a little kid, when you wore whatever made you happy without worrying about what anyone else thought.  It felt like home.

Rainbow Kitten Surprise has always been that for me. Whenever life feels overwhelming or uncertain, and like everything is changing, their music has been one of the few things that stay constant. Through friendship problems, stressful exams, and the ups and downs of growing up, their songs have always created a sense of calm when I needed it most.

So walking into The Greek Theatre didn’t feel like arriving at just another concert venue. It felt like visiting a home I had known for years but never actually been to. And everyone around me felt like family I hadn’t met yet.

The opener was the Australian indie rock band Spacey Jane. I honestly didn’t know much about them before the show, but they completely surprised me.

Cred. Elizabeth Marsh

Before they came onstage, people were scrolling on their phones, finding their seats, and taking pictures before the lights dimmed. Then the lead singer and rhythm guitarist, Caleb Harper, hit the first guitar chord, and it felt like everything changed.

It was as if that single strum wiped away every distraction.

Phones disappeared. Conversations ended. People stood up almost instinctively.

I’ve been to concerts where the audience sways a little to the music, but this was completely different. Everyone was fully dancing with their whole bodies. Complete strangers laughed together, sang together, and moved without worrying how they looked. Spacey Jane matched that same energy by running around the stage, doing numerous hair flips, jumping, and constantly interacting with the crowd.  

My favorite performance was “Whateverrr,” from their 2025 album If That Makes Sense. The song reflects on growing up, nostalgia, and realizing that the moments we miss can never truly be recreated. Hearing it live reminded me that music is one of the only things capable of transporting us back in time. A melody can bring back memories that have been sitting quietly in the back of our minds for years.

Then the lights dimmed!

Rainbow-colored lights filled the stage as Rainbow Kitten Surprise walked out, and the entire crowd erupted. With the rainbow lights shining over the audience and everyone’s colorful outfits, it almost felt like stepping into a dream. The cheering was so loud that it didn’t even sound like people welcoming a band—it sounded like a family finally seeing each other again.

From that moment on, everyone let loose.

Cred. Elizabeth Marsh

I think that’s what makes Rainbow Kitten Surprise so special. Their music reminds people that they don’t have to fit into someone else’s idea of normal. We spend so much of our lives trying to fit in, especially in middle school and high school, that we forget how much more interesting life is when people are simply themselves.

When I first started listening to Rainbow Kitten Surprise, I was in middle school, and like a lot of people, I worried about fitting in. Looking around at the concert, I realized how much I’ve changed. Now I’m in high school, and I’ve learned that being yourself is a lot more rewarding than trying to be someone everyone else expects. I think this band helped me realize that. They’ve never been afraid to be different and embrace the weird, the imperfect, and the unconventional. And with millions of monthly listeners, they’ve shown that people connect with authenticity. They didn’t try to become what everyone expected; instead, they stayed exactly who they were. Sometimes all people need is one person willing to be themselves first.

Three songs have always stood out to me: “Painkillers,” “Cocaine Jesus,” and “It’s Called: Freefall.”

Instead of just hearing them through my headphones, I got to experience them with thousands of other people who connected to them for their own reasons.

“Painkillers” is about struggling with mental health while still choosing to keep going. Hearing thousands of people sing every word together made the message feel even more powerful. It was a reminder that everyone is carrying something, even if you can’t see it.

“Cocaine Jesus” explores addiction, unhealthy relationships, and searching for comfort in the wrong places. Live, it felt less like a performance and more like an honest confession. The vulnerability echoed throughout the crowd. 

Cred. Elizabeth Marsh

Then came the final song of the night, my favorite.

“Freefall.”

For years, this song has been my comfort. I’ve listened to “Freefall” during some of the hardest moments in my life. Whether I was overwhelmed by school, dealing with friendship problems, or stressed about the future, it has always reminded me that I don’t have to control everything. Sometimes the best thing you can do is let go and trust that things will work out.

As soon as the first notes played, everyone started screaming the lyrics. People threw their hands in the air, hugged their friends, laughed, cried, and sang as loud as they could. For those few minutes, nobody seemed worried about tomorrow. Everyone was completely in the moment.

Walking out of The Greek Theatre, I realized the concert wasn’t just about hearing my favorite songs live. It was about the feeling the band created. For one night, thousands of people forgot about fitting in, forgot about their worries, and celebrated what made them different.

When I first found Rainbow Kitten Surprise, I was a middle schooler trying to figure out where I belonged. Years later, standing in a crowd of thousands singing every word, I realized I wasn’t searching for that anymore. Somewhere between the songs, the people, and the rainbow lights, I found what I’d been looking for all along: the confidence to be exactly who I am. 

It’s funny that a band with a name as random as Rainbow Kitten Surprise became a place where so many people feel understood. What started as a joke became a reminder that you don’t have to make sense to everyone to matter. The music ended that night, but the feeling of belonging never really did.

Catch Rainbow Kitten Surprise on tour here.

RAYE Radiates Reassurance with “This Tour May Contain New Music”

Posted on by joshwurz

RAYE is the exact voice you’d want to represent single women. She’s lived through it all before: sleepless nights, painful yearning, years spent getting over an ex, who could be reduced to a few body parts: just skin and bones and two eyes and no brain. But the South Londoner Rachel Keen, a.k.a RAYE, isn’t writing off dating despite the ailments of the single scene; she’s turning it into a grand, dramatic, symphonic narrative — packaged grandiosely in her sophomore album, This Music May Contain Hope. 

Cred. Ariel Goldberg

Closing out her tour of the same name, RAYE radiated at Los Angeles’ The Greek Theatre in an unsurprisingly sold-out first-night appearance. Preceded by opening acts from her sisters, Amma and Absolutely, the family affair was a lively lesson in 21st-century womanhood. No holds barred, the haute hitmaker waltzed onto the stage in a long trench coat and an umbrella — standing under a cardboard rain cloud — establishing the scene around the album’s opener, “Intro: Girl Under the Grey Cloud,” as a dreary London day, but only briefly. 

We’re then transported back to a 60s-style soundstage, RAYE’s pin-up style on pointe, where the soulful singer stood before us in a red satin dress and signature bob, sided by two back-up singers in the same garb. The drum sequence welcomed in the next song, her hit single, “WHERE IS MY HUSBAND,” the ol’ razzle-dazzle to match. No one could stay seated—especially when the old Hollywood-style background lit up with bold lettering, reading “Beware…The South London Lover Boy.” 

“Girls, stay safe out there/ Best you stay prepared/He’s a South London lover boy,” she forewarns — backed by the energy of the big band. Silencing the crowd was her prolonged, quizzical stare over the lyrics, “He’s not looking for a heart, just your pillow to rest his head.” Perhaps we all stood in solidarity, having found ourselves in similar situations far more times than we care to admit. 

From the start, RAYE set the record straight that she does not recommend reading reviews online — vocalizing that she talks too much during her shows. She was right. After hearing her third or fourth fourth-wall-breaking narratives that carried the show forward in story format, one could argue she didn’t talk quite enough. 

Cred. Ariel Goldberg

That said, the performance was laid out in three parts, beginning with Raye’s Jazz Cabaret. “Cue the door!” she hollers to the stagehands. We are then entered as an audience into an intimate England club, where RAYE brings the story to life. “She goes to the band and asks if she can sing a song,” she cues in third person. “I’m going to describe her love life in a few brief words: dried up rivers,” a laugh rippled through the theater. The band picks up the pace as she takes a seat, breaking into song with the smooth, jazzy neo-soul single “Worth It,” brass, percussion, keys, and strings swaying alongside her. 

If there’s one thing about RAYE, she’ll keep spirits high with zany asides and theatrical expressions, but she isn’t without her serious moments. In the next section, she gently wound down the audience — even dismissing weary souls to the bar for a drink—while she took a seat at the piano for “Ice Cream Man.” An incredibly raw, years-long look into the inconceivable grief caused by sexual assault and harassment, all sat in silence as the song brought her to tears. 

The production was an act that came in many waves, and this part was prolonged in the heavier topics of the album, including heartbreak. RAYE stood solely as she belted the lyrics to “Nightingale Lane,” an ode to her past lover, where she reminisces on kissing beer-stained lips in South London and reflects on the pub, where it all started — and ended. “A bit unoriginal, don’t you think?” she scoffs. 

As a prelude to the melodramatic number, she first stepped onto her soapbox: “I’m going to say maybe 25 percent of us are not looking for love — do you think that’s a fair estimate?” she asked. “So, for the 40 percent of us really excited for someone to walk into our lives and choose us, the lyrics of this song are ‘somebody loved me once, and some day someone will love me again,’” reframing the song as less of a lament and more of a reminder that love isn’t lost. “I’m going to tell that to someone who needs to hear it,” she emphasized. Most of us stayed seated as we came to our own realizations that maybe she was talking to us. 

Cred. Ariel Goldberg

But the vivacious vocalist didn’t leave us in our feels for long. It was only a matter of an outfit change that crescendoed the set into the orchestral section, beginning with the high-streaming “Click Clack Symphony.” While the song features Hans Zimmer, RAYE shook her head, signaling he would not be making an appearance, and he really didn’t need to. Her lyrical stamina and impressive range could carry the entire five-minute ballad, instruments not necessary—but certainly not forgotten. In fact, after each song, Keen made sure to list the names of each musician, never missing an opportunity to praise the people who really do make the art a reality. 

The night, like a movie, continued its ascent, ushering us into the final section: the nightclub. The set shifted into shades of neon, laser lights setting the scene, almost as if we were joining RAYE on one of her iconic nights out in South London. Harking back to the hits that skyrocketed her initially, she spent just mere moments singing breathy lyrics of “Prada” and “Escapism,” with the crowd echoing back, “Just a heartbroken bitch, high heels, six inch/In the back of the nightclub, sippin’ Champagne.” 

The night built to an epic climax. “I’m not a very good liar, so I’m telling you there will be an encore,” she said, lingering in anticipation for the curtains to close. And guess what? There was an encore — a very fitting one at that, with “Joy,” a dance-y, gospel-inspired number, which both of her sisters joined her on stage for. Tying the album’s themes of hope, relentless reassurance, and finding love with a bow, the trifecta sang for everyone in the audience: the 40-percenters in search of the perfect person, those happily partnered up, and even the people who find content in solitude — yes, you, the lucky 25%. 

On that note, we’re not good liars either, so you can trust us when we say RAYE is a radiant force to be reckoned with. This Album May Contain Hope is not only a dazzling record from start to finish, but also translates excellently into an on-stage production with all the bells and whistles—big band, bouncy curls, bare souls, and a bit of joy we could all use against our woes, because according to RAYE, there will, in fact, be happier times ahead.