RIANNE DOWNEY // THE WARDROBE, LEEDS

Rianne Downey Turns Leeds Into a Country-Folk Revival

⭐⭐⭐⭐ (4/5)

Rianne Downey @ Leeds Wardrobe

Photo Credit: John Hayhurst

Before we get into Rianne Downey I have to mention the support tonight, who is worthy of her own review. Teesside’s Amelia Coburn turned The Wardrobe into her own fireside séance. Playing ukulele and with a voice so pure it could slice through silence, she plays “Sleepy Town”—a lullaby for restless souls—and you can feel the room tighten, caught between awe and disbelief. Her vocals have that crystalline, trembling quality that calls Joni Mitchell to mind, a natural vibrato that lifts every line skyward.

Amelia Coburn @ The Wardrobe, Leeds

Photo Credit: John Hayhurst

But just when you think you’ve got her figured out - a gothic alt-folk sprite, all atmosphere and ache, she snaps it. “Anyone on Tinder?” she grins, scanning the crowd like she’s about to start a pub quiz. “This one’s about all the knobheads on the dating scene in Middlesbrough,” she adds, before launching into “Nodding Dog.” It’s wickedly funny. The laughter bubbles up, but by the final verse everyone’s back, completely captivated by her spell.

That’s Coburn’s magic: the clash between her grounded, earthy patter and that unearthly voice. One minute she’s cracking jokes about Teesside’s romantic wasteland; the next she’s a siren channelling ghosts, with her tone swelling and dipping like the tide. It’s a rare mix—humour and heartbreak stitched together with utter sincerity.

By the end of her short set, the audience is begging for more, holding on to the last shimmer of her final note. Amelia Coburn —a northern storyteller turning everyday grit into something quietly transcendent.

There’s no grand introduction, no slow build, Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5 is on the PA, the lights dip and she steps into view: in a floating long white dress combo with cowgirl boots, Scotland in her voice and Nashville in her bones. Rianne Downey simply strolls onto The Wardrobe’s stage, glass of fizz in her hand, the band are already poised, and they drop straight into “Sunblind.” It’s a bright, rolling opener—half jangle, half ache—that sets the tone for a night that swings between tenderness and fire.

By “Lost in Blue”, her voice is cutting through the room like smoke through light. The band sound crisp, the rhythm section locked in tight while Downey, in her white dress and crop top, leans into the melody with that mix of Glasgow soul and country poise she’s fast making her trademark. The early run of songs feels effortless: “The Song of Old Glencoe” swells with Scottish pride and memory, a soft but defiant nod to home, before “Because” adds a flicker of pure pop warmth.

Mid-set, the show settles into its most emotional stretch. “The Consequence of Love”—the title track from her album—lands like a mission statement, bigger and more bruised than on record. Then “Angel” flickers with country shimmer before she glides into “Wild Mountain Thyme (Will Ye Go Lassie Go).” It’s the night’s spine-tingler. Her band quiets, the room hushes, and suddenly it’s just Rianne, voice ringing out like it’s centuries old. There’s no gimmick, no gloss—just tradition meeting truth.

From there, she turns playful again. “Silly Me” and “Quicksand” keep the Paul Heaton thread alive but reframed through her tone —more Laurel Canyon than lad-rock. It’s one of several moments tonight that underline how far she’s come from “Heaton’s guest singer” status.

Then the tempo lifts: “Nothing Better” and “Blue Eyes Burnin’” kick with pop sparkle, showing her range beyond the country-folk tag.

By the time she hits “Rotterdam (Or Anywhere)”, the crowd’s hers entirely. She doesn’t just imitate Jacqui Abbott—she inhabits the song, reshaping it with a kind of grounded pride. The back-to-back finish of “Heart of Mine,” “Home,” and “Good in Goodbye” feels like a full-circle journey: heartbreak, belonging, release. She ends not in fireworks (it’s November the 5th after all) but in grace—smiling, waving, the room roaring.

What’s striking is how natural it all feels. The Wardrobe’s intimacy suits her —there’s grit in her banter, shine in her phrasing, and a quiet assurance that she’s already outgrown this small-stage tag.

If The Consequence of Love announced her full arrival on record, tonight in Leeds confirmed the reality: Rianne Downey is Britain’s new country-folk powerhouse, grounded in her roots, and singing her way clean into the future.

Words and Photos: John Hayhurst