The stage is dressed like a front room complete with fireplace, clock and wallpaper from the 1970s. Lamps, rugs, photographs, a piano, an all seated crowd, and no early signs this is heading anywhere loud. That’s the design. This leg of the Raised On Songs & Stories tour is all about an intimate gathering of friends — songs, poems, and stories given equal footing — and it settles into that rhythm immediately.

Words and Photos – John Hayhurst

Imelda May walks on in a long black dress with a soft floral pattern, tied at the waist with long flowing sleeves, understated but eye-catching under the low lighting. Her backing is minimal, just a guitar and double bass, which leaves everything exposed and stripped back. It suits her. She uses the space well, often stepping back from the mic and tilting her head to let the bigger notes carry on their own. You can hear a pin drop, her vocals are impeccable. There’s no need to force it.

“The Rare Auld Times” opens, reflective and steady, and is followed by “Sixth Sense” and “Meet You at the Moon,” all delivered without much shift in tempo. It establishes the pattern early. Songs are broken up by poems — “The Dancer and The Dream,” “Kissing,” “Jammy Dodger” — and short pieces of storytelling before each, that sometimes take up just as much room as the music.

That’s where a lot of the night lives. May is relaxed and naturally funny, chatting with the audience rather than performing at them. The exchanges are easy, and the crowd responds in kind. At one point she talks about her dad dressing as a clown and wanting to be buried in his clown suit. Her mum’s response — “over my dead body” — is delivered with perfect timing, followed by the punchline that she got her way by dying first. It lands somewhere between dark and affectionate, just one example of the many belly laughs had in her front room tonight.

The middle section brings in “Big Bad Handsome Man,” “Just One Kiss” and “Kentish Town Waltz,” but the overall pace doesn’t really change much, and you don’t want it to. Everything is controlled and well delivered, it feels unrehearsed, but sincere and heartfelt. The audience is completely engaged, though — partly because of the constant interaction. She brings people in for impromptu duets during “I Remember Everything” and “Moon River,” and encourages sing-alongs where it fits, which helps keep the room from going anywhere near flat.

“Black Tears” is a personal favourite and standout. It’s direct and uncluttered, and the quiet in the room works in its favour. No need to build it — it lands cleanly and holds attention with every syllable.

Elsewhere, the covers are folded into the set rather than used to lift it. “Go To Sleep You Little Baby” and later “Tainted Love” are reworked to fit the tone rather than disrupt it.

For most of the night, that restraint defines it. Then “Johnny Got A Boom Boom” changes the feel slightly. The reaction is immediate — louder, more physical — and it runs straight into John Lee Hooker’s “Boom Boom”. People start to move despite the seating, and for a few minutes it feels like it might tip into something less controlled.

It doesn’t quite. “Tainted Love” keeps things within the same measured approach, and the final cover song, “When You Were Sweet Sixteen,” brings everything back down again to where it started with a full audience sing-along.

What stands out tonight is the atmosphere. We are in an unusual venue, even May suggested it felt like being at the bottom of a large shoebox. However, for a couple of hours, it was like being invited into her home — for a drink, a few songs, stories that wander and land where they land. It was a night that felt personal, unforced, and genuinely shared. One that I’d love to go back to, time and time again.