A heavy downpour threatened to put a damper on the hard fete agenda soca lovers had in mind for Rytz on Thursday, but by nightfall, the event had rewritten the narrative. What began as rain-soaked uncertainty dissolved into something far more decadent — an evening that would go on to soak its patrons — not in water, but in music, flavour, and unfiltered joy.

From the outset, the all-inclusive affair delivered exactly what its name promised: a refined escape where premium spirits flowed as freely as conversation, and culinary offerings teased the palate with every bite. Yet even amid the indulgence, there was a quiet understanding rippling through the crowd — something bigger was coming.

That moment arrived with the entrance of Kes the Band.

Twenty-one years deep in the game, the ensemble didn’t just step onto the stage — they settled into it with the confidence of a legacy act still very much in its prime. The group wasted no time in bridging cultures, proudly declaring their mission to bring soca to the land of reggae and dancehall. It was a sentiment that landed effortlessly, especially as band leader, Kees confessed his love for the island.

“Jamaica grow we up too, and every time I have to leave here, I feel sad,” he said.

Before their arrival, the energy had already been carefully primed. Richie Ras, Cardo, Bloodline Franco, and Brush1 the Road Marshal orchestrated a relentless sonic warm-up, unleashing hit after hit that sent patrons whining across the still-damp lawns. Tracks like Greatest Bend Ova, Good Spirits, Ring Finger, Splinters, and Big Dansa turned the space into a mega dance floor with patrons whining their waits freely to the beat.

But when Kes took over, the night elevated.

Phones shot into the air as the opening notes of Rum and Coca-Cola rang out. From there, the performance unfolded like a love letter to soca itself.

“Soca music is healing,” Kees reminded the crowd, his voice cutting clean through the rhythm, before urging them into surrender: “When soca calling, we feteing straight to the road.”

The connection between band and audience felt almost sacred.

“This is what I live to see—smiling faces,” Kees said again, scanning a sea of faces that reflected the joy he needed to continue his set.

At one point, he challenged patrons to reveal their uninhibited selves: “If you looking for love, show me your wild side”, and the response was immediate, electric.

There was intention behind every moment.

“When I come to spread the music, I want you to feel the instruments. This is Kes the Band, not Kees the man,” he declared, grounding the performance in something deeper than spectacle. It was about unity, immersion, feeling.

The setlist moved seamlessly between eras and emotions. Nostalgia met present-day energy as Hello eased into Are You Ready, then softened into the timeless reassurance of I’ll Be There For You and Carnival Friends. In a gesture that underscored the region’s musical kinship, Kees paused to acknowledge the growth of soca in Jamaica.

“I’m so happy to see how soca has grown in Jamaica. We need to do what we do in Trinidad on a bigger scale in Jamaica because I love soca, but I love my dancehall too,” he said, before diving headfirst into a medley of vintage hits from Buju Banton and Super Cat — a moment that sent the crowd into a frenzy of cultural pride.

And just when it seemed the energy had peaked, he pushed it further — welcoming a musical colleague for a special appearance that added another layer of excitement to an already charged atmosphere.

“Let’s take a jam till a mawning,” he urged, and the crowd obliged without hesitation.

By the time chants of “Oh Lord, oh!” echoed into the night, one thing was clear: Rytz had transcended expectation. The rain that once threatened the evening became an afterthought, replaced by a saturation of sound, spirit, and sensory delight.