4/5 stars
If you’re feeling scorned and looking for a way to process your pain with ghostly chamber pop, “Everybody Scream” by Florence + The Machine will haunt you in the best way.
Lead vocalist Florence Welch channeled her characteristic mystique and personal anger, fear, pain and grief into 12 songs written like a letter on feminine sadness and rage. After suffering a life-threatening ectopic pregnancy in 2023, Welch poured her aching heart into the spellbinding sound that comprises her sixth album.
This album is akin to a heavy, emotional release. The story is intimate, jarring and theatrical. It’s phantasmagorical, yet rooted in the cruelness of reality, serving as somber reality of navigating the world as a woman.
While I appreciate the rawness that drives the autobiographical elements of this album, the production does leave me wanting less polish and more roughness to match it.
“Everybody Scream” is a protection spell that spirals into a cathartic release that almost compels you to dance, sing, move and scream. It’s beautifully raucous, starting with a churchlike choral sound before erupting into shrieks and shouts driven by foreboding drums and basslines.
“The Old Religion” and “Drink Deep” also leaned into this familiar ritualistic instrumentation and melody, guiding the gothic and fantastical lyricism.
I appreciated the eerie brightness of “You Can Have It All,” with simpler woodwinds winding up to an eruption of strings and drums, and Welch’s vocals cutting through with her typical strong sharpness.
The resentment and discontent of living in a man’s world while pursuing love and success as a woman stuck out to me in this album.
Welch was right when she said this one is for ladies, speaking to us with lyrics like “It must be nice to be a man and make boring music just because you can,” in “One of the Greats” and “You have a bigger ego than you think you do, slide down in my seat so as not to threaten you,” in “Music by Men.”
“Witch Dance” was one of the songs I found harder to listen to. The lyricism and tempo make me feel like I’m intruding on an intimate, private moment, but the transition into the slower, swaying melody and glistening harp felt like a familiar embrace. It reminded me that I’m immersed in this album’s journey for a reason.
Following the decrescendo of the previous song, the trilling strings, the simple and strong drumbeat of “Sympathy Magic” with Welch’s grounded vocals sound like a battle cry to stand and face whatever is running at me with anger and bravery.
The slower songs in the middle of the album center themselves with simpler acoustic elements. “Perfume and Milk” narrates processing the pain of grief and growth that goes along with the seasons of change. “Kraken” picks the tempo back up and narrates how it feels to move beyond sadness and distraction. The layered backing vocals amplify the main lyrical monologue.
The lyrics, co-written by familiar emotional indie/alternative powerhouse Mitski, shone through “Buckle” and left me aching. I was immersed with the familiar feelings of longing and the loss of love. It acknowledged the pain of harboring resentment and falling apart trying to let go of that someone that left you to hurt.
“And Love” was a near-perfect conclusion to the album. It felt like a lullaby saying goodbye and laying me down to sleep. Knowing how much of Welch’s grief and loss went into this album makes it all the more emotionally impactful.
The “Everybody Scream” album cover. Picture from Rolling Stone UK.