Florence Welch’s latest album with Florence and the Machine arrives with a deceptively playful title:Everybody Scream. Don’t let the rhyme fool you; beneath the surface lies a work of startling vulnerability and raw power, a sonic landscape carved from personal pain and fierce defiance.
Welch doesn’t shy away from the depths. This album confronts near-death experiences, the anguish of ectopic pregnancy, and a searing critique of patriarchal structures. Singles like “Everybody Scream” and “One of the Greats” were just the opening salvo, hinting at the emotional intensity to come.
This isn’t simply gothic rock or primal energy – it’s a vital contribution to a growing chorus. Throughout 2023, a wave of female artists, including Lily Allen, Sabrina Carpenter, and Hayley Williams, have unleashed music fueled by frustration and a demand for change. Even Taylor Swift, amidst personal headlines, has spoken out against the disproportionate scrutiny faced by women in the public eye.
“One of the Greats” ignited a conversation with its pointed lyrics. Welch questions why male musicians can achieve legendary status with relative ease, while women are perpetually forced to reinvent themselves, to *prove* their worth. It’s not an attack on men, but a lament for the double standard that demands constant reinvention from female artists.
The disparity is starkly illustrated by recent data: on a list of the 200 Greatest Singers of All Time, only 33 were women, with Florence herself appearing at number 128. This imbalance fuels the album’s central theme – a refusal to accept limitations imposed by a system that consistently overlooks female genius.
“Music by Men” delves into the complex dynamic of navigating relationships while attempting to avoid “threatening” a male partner. Welch vividly portrays a physical shrinking, a self-blaming spiral as she navigates couples therapy, subtly referencing the often-lauded indie band, The 1975, in the process.
There’s a primal, almost ancient rage simmering throughoutEverybody Scream. It’s a long-suppressed fury, now amplified by a collective of female voices demanding to be heard. The album feels like a summoning, a ritualistic release of pent-up emotion.
The choice of Paris Paloma as a tour support feels deliberate. Paloma’s own choral chanting, reminiscent of ancient rites, echoes within the album’s soundscape, evoking images of spirits and moonlit gatherings. This connection underscores the album’s exploration of feminine power and resilience.
Florence has always explored feminine rage, as evidenced by earlier work like “Kiss With a Fist,” but here she pushes it to its limits, embracing a darker, more visceral aesthetic. “Witch Dance” captures the loss of innocence, the disillusionment of entering a world where many women have simply resigned themselves to “tears.”
The album doesn’t shy away from self-destruction. Welch’s “bloodied feet” continue to move forward, driven by a relentless force, even as she acknowledges a monstrous side within herself. The work masterfully weaves together self-hatred with the pain inflicted by forces beyond her control.
While nearly flawless, “Drink Deep” feels slightly repetitive, its guttural vocals losing some impact over its length. However, tracks like “Sympathy Magic,” “The Old Religion,” and “Kraken” stand out as instant classics, destined for repeat listens.
“Buckle” is particularly devastating, a raw confession from an artist who has long championed self-empowerment, now admitting to feeling “stupid” and “damaged” in the presence of a man who holds sway over her. The chorus is a heartbreaking surrender: a willingness to embrace pain for the sake of a fleeting connection.
But the album isn’t solely defined by despair. Steadily, Welch rebuilds, offering a promise of resilience with “You Can Have It All.” The album concludes with “And Love,” a surprisingly gentle and moving track – a tranquil ocean of solace discovered after weathering the storm.
Everybody Screamis brutal, unrelenting, and profoundly honest. Florence and the Machine have delivered a haunting and powerful work, solidifying Welch’s place among the greats with an unleashing of feminine rage that resonates long after the final note fades.
