The title track of Florence and the Machine's new album, Everybody Scream, opens with synth organ notes over eerie choral harmony. IN videoIn the film, directed by Autumn de Wilde, Florence Welch stands on a low stage in a sixteenth-century mansion as a crowd of people – old men in suits, women in black dresses – shake around her, as if she were presiding over a mass exorcism. A coven of witches in white blouses and long skirts jumps onto tables, eyes bulging and teeth bared. Welch, dressed in a crimson red dress and matching heels, spits flowers at the man as she wriggles over him. Somehow it works.
Known for her red hair, bohemian dress and pagan-inspired lyrics, Welch has been bringing gothic fanfare to pop music for nearly two decades. In her songs, she regularly communicates with demons, ghosts and devils. She described her live performances as “agnostic church”. Her voice is her most powerful weapon, resonant and ethereal as she dances on huge stages. For her previous album, Dance Fever, she drew inspiration from Pre-Raphaelite art, medieval choreomania and stories Carmen Maria Machadocreating a world of bittersweet charm. But if her last record was a fairy tale, then she said KROQ: “It's just a horror movie.”
While writing songs, she delved into the horror canon, studying the occult at the Warburg Institute and reading books such as The Rob Young Book.Electric Eden“, which traces how British folk music of the sixties and seventies began to intersect with mysticism. “Doing work and sleeping alone / downloading Revelations of Divine Love on your phone,” she sings wryly on “Perfume and Milk.” The Halloween release of “Everyone Scream” had an appealing vibe: teaser trailerIn the film, which was also directed by de Wilde, Welch screams last girl into a deep hole. To prepare, she even took screaming lessons. Welch has always brought musical theater instincts to her work, but these witchy references are especially well-suited to an album that reflects the sacrifices she has made to ensure her work is taken seriously. “Here I don't have to be quiet / Here I don't have to be kind and extraordinary and normal all at the same time,” Welch sings about the strength she finds while performing on “Everybody Scream.” “But look how ragged I am, blood on the stage / But how can I leave you when you scream my name?”
In “One of the Greats,” which Welch wrote while on tour with Dance Fever, we see the artist recovering from the electric performance described in the opening track. She imagines being buried underground and then resurrected to continue making music. This may be one of Welch's best songs in years – the kind of great slow-burner she made her name with. She recorded it in one six-minute take with Idles' Mark Bowen; during production, Ethel Kane added backing vocals. (Welch's other collaborators on the album include Mythical and Aaron Dessner from National.) She sings about how she burned out at just thirty-six years old:
