Some bands you fall in love with upon first listen; others engage in a slow strip tease, seducing you into their 12” orbit. The latter was the case with yours truly and Florence and the Machine. When my ex-wife first played them for me I cried, “Butterfly music! The music of a giant butterfly with giant gossamer wings taking a giant butterfly shit! Make it stop, for the love of God!”
This was my way of saying that I found Florence Welch’s vocals both too icy and overly precious, and the band’s knack for big, histrionic flourishes annoying. But my ex- kept playing them (she’s a sadist) and gradually I came to appreciate the Machine’s knack for great hooks, and to love the very same dramatic flourishes I previously found so off-putting. I think the songs that finally won me over were “Dog Days Are Over” and “Bloodlines.” But it doesn’t matter. The band specializes in making a big, melodic din, and once it’s gotten its claws into you, you’re doomed.
I still feel a bit ambiguous about the band; they can be too pretty for their own good, and occasionally are too delicate for words. It wouldn’t hurt them to toss in some rough edges and get down to it, maybe toss in some rough and tumble rock here and there like they did with “Kiss With a Fist” off 2010’s Between Two Lungs. But you get what you get, and I’ve grown to love Florence and the Machine and think what they’re doing is great.
2015’s How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful is the band’s third studio LP, and it’s a doozy, filled with irresistible melodies, great hooks, and big, fantastic flourishes. It’s ecstasy they seem to be shooting for, and they achieve it more often than not. One listen to, say, “Mother” or the title track is enough to convince one of this fact. Since the band’s founding it has won more decorations than Hermann Goering, and those awards and the band’s big sales point to the fact that Florence and the Machine are doing something very, very right. Why, they’ve already appeared on MTV Unplugged!
The band was formed in 2007, and its members include Welch on lead vocals, Isabella Summers on keyboards and backing vocals, Robert Ackroyd on lead guitar, Christopher Lloyd Hayden on drums and percussion, Tom Monger on harp and xylophone, Mark Saunders on bass, and Rusty Bradshaw on keyboards, rhythm guitar, and backing vocals. That’s a lot of people, and their sheer numbers are reflected in the band’s oversized sound. They’ve been called baroque pop and art rock, and their sound is sufficiently orchestrated and ornate to justify both labels.
How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful opens with “Ship to Wreck,” an irresistible pop confection with a tres catchy melody and a great chorus, to say nothing of Welch’s vocals and lyrics, which have her wondering whether she “built this ship to wreck.” “We are lost,” she sings, “and the water is coming in fast,” and “I can’t help but pull the earth around me/To make my bed.” This is pop songcraft at its best, and it’s followed by “What Kind of Man,” which opens slowly, too slowly perhaps. But just when you think you’re in for a stripped-down singer-songwriter abomination the song suddenly blossoms with big guitar riffs and tons of backing vocals, and commences to bona fide rock. “What kind of man/Loves like you?” repeats Welch, while the band grows louder and louder until wham, it’s over.
The title track is brilliant; it also opens slowly, with Welch singing some great lyrics (“Between a crucifix and the Hollywood sign/We decided to get hurt”) until the band kicks in with some wonderful horns, and the melody is perfect. The song moves at a nice pace, and then slows in time for Welch to sing the chorus to some orchestral accompaniment that builds and builds. And this is the ecstasy I’m talking about, right here, with horns blaring and Welch singing about a man falling from space, and when the band takes the song out you’ll be enthralled or your money back. “Queen of Peace” is hard-driving from the get-go, with some big drums leading into a magnificent chorus and more symphonic flourishes. And once again it’s the irresistible melody that wins the day, that and the orchestral interlude and this one will also leave you feeling uplifted and spent. “Various Storms & Saints” opens with Welch singing to the accompaniment of guitar, and while she holds her own with her soulful vocals the song is a tad precious for my tastes. She cranks up the intensity of her vocals and a choir enters, but the song never really takes off, which just goes to show you how much of a junkie for those big orchestral passages I’ve become.
“Delilah” also opens with Welch singing to the accompaniment of some backing vocals. Then a big muffled drum enters, Welch sings, “And I never knew I was a dancer, until Delilah came around.” At which point the song picks up pace, that drum keeping things real, and Welch goes over the top vocally while the melody suckers you in. She has quite a set of pipes on her, and the band knows how to slowly ratchet up the intensity and momentum of a song. I’m not wild about her vocals when she strains for the high notes, but that’s okay; it’s her voice and she can do what she wants with it. “Long & Last” follows a familiar pattern; Welch sings to minimal accompaniment at the song’s beginning, wondering whether it’s too late for her to come home, and on this one I do find her vocals too precious. And to make matters worse, the song never really takes off. “Caught” is another irresistible pop tune, thanks to its lovely melody and fabulous chorus, to say nothing of its catchy opening. “It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” sings Welch, “To try and keep from calling you,” and from there the song makes no major statements until around the three-and-a-half minute mark, when the tempo picks up and the backing vocalists join Welch in singing the song out.
“Third Eye” opens with some neat vocals and boasts a fantastic melody, cool drumming, and great vocals by Welch. Welch barks out the lyrics, with those backing vocals (“Hua hua!”) jumping in and out. She hits the higher registers about halfway through, while the song gets bigger, Welch singing, “I’m the same/I’m the same/I’m trying to change” while tossing off phrases about her original lifeline and her third eye, which isn’t apparent from photos I’ve seen of her. “St. Jude” opens with some bucolic sounds, before a cool synthesizer kicks in and Welch follows, singing in a hushed voice, backing singers repeating “St. Jude.” It’s a beautiful tune, this one, slow and lovely, angelic even, as Welch engages in some ethereal humming while that lovely melody carries you along. As for “Mother,” it opens with synthesizer as well, but this one is funky as the band kicks in and suddenly explodes. The choruses are loud and great, and what comes between them is both dreamy and has both its feet on the ground. A wonderful distorted guitar comes in, the backing vocalists are awesome, and this is what Florence and the Machine do best; kill you with a crescendo, as the song just gets bigger and bigger, until finally ending in a squall of feedback.
I will never throw in my lot completely with Florence and the Machine, because when all is said and done I still find Welch’s vocals too ethereal and operatic for my tastes. But that’s just me. I had hopes—based largely on “Kiss With a Fist”—that the band would offer up the occasional hard-hitting number, but they seem to have abandoned such experiments for a more fist-in-a-velvet glove approach. Which is okay, because Florence and the Machine are a marvelous band that trucks in the transcendent, and they do it wonderfully. Theirs is a sound that can only be called spiritual, and any band that can pull that off is okay by me. Here’s to hoping their best is before them, and that they continue to make a big sound that will make you want to break the shackles of the quotidian, and soar as the band does at its best, into the heights of pop heaven.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
