Jensen McRae Conquers El Rey Theatre with a Dazzling Performance
Walking into the El Rey on the last night of Jensen McRae’s first leg of the Praying for Your Downfall tour felt a bit like walking into someone’s living room—if that living room had vintage chandeliers, velvet curtains, and a crowd of emotionally vulnerable twenty-somethings whispering, “She’s gonna play ‘Massachusetts,’ right?” Spoiler: She did.
The night kicked off with a stellar set from Lauren Juzang, who charmed the El Rey crowd with her dreamy bedroom pop and effortless stage presence. Her crowd-pleasing favorite, “Fireflies,” had everyone swaying and singing along, setting the perfect tone for what was to come.
Jensen McRae opened the night with “The Rearranger,” and from the very first lyric, it was clear we were in for an evening of poetic precision and low-key heartbreak. Her voice—warm, slightly husky, with just enough ache—cut through the chatter and pulled everyone in. It’s one of those songs that makes you rethink how you’ve handled every breakup you thought you were fine about. A real tone-setter.
Mid-set, she dropped “God Has a Hitman,” a song she hasn’t even officially released, but thanks to the viral gods of TikTok, nearly everyone knew it. People were mouthing the lyrics like they’d lived through the betrayal themselves.
Then came “Savannah.” The hush that fell over the room was reverent. Her voice swelled, tender and pained, and when she hit that chorus? Goosebumps. It felt like she was singing directly to that one person you swore you’d never write about again… and then accidentally did.
She surprised the crowd with a cover of Bonnie Raitt’s “I Can’t Make You Love Me,” and I swear I saw at least three people physically melt into their barstools. She didn’t overdo it—just piano and voice, letting the lyrics do the heavy lifting. It was classic Jensen: all restraint and rawness, no gimmicks.
And speaking of new material, she gave us “Good Theater” and “Call It Even,” two unreleased tracks that already feel like future fan favorites. Good Theater is witty and biting—like if Phoebe Bridgers wrote a monologue for a one-woman play. Call It Even leaned more melancholic, contemplative—like the aftermath of a fight you both lost. You could feel the audience leaning in, trying to memorize lyrics they’d be tweeting about later.
Then, as expected, she closed with “Massachusetts,” the song that made her a name you couldn’t scroll past in 2021. The moment the opening chords hit, the crowd erupted.
When she left the stage, it wasn’t with pyrotechnics or an encore plea—it was with a quiet wave and a small, knowing smile. Classic Jensen. Understated, but unforgettable.
