Florence + The Machine
Dance Fever
Polydor
Buy via Official Store | Listen Below
Choreomania is exactly the kind of concept you’d expect someone of Florence Welch’s character to find interest in: a medieval social phenomenon occurring throughout some centuries in Europe, unexplained yet well-documented and attributed to various storms and saints. Such a thing to capture the attention of this artist, an Englishwoman known for a cluster of rollicking and ornate baroque pop albums, embodying a signature organic euphoria on platinum hits like “Dog Days Are Over” and “Shake It Out.”
Though it would be harsh to say that 2018’s High As Hope saw Welch and co. lose their way, it’s no wonder they’ve found such a huge response to the lead singles lifted from new album Dance Fever in comparison to that album’s “Hunger.” “King,” which opens here, is every bit as personal, yet leagues more poetic, reveling in the acknowledgement of her own resilience in the face of chaos. After exploring the shortcomings of a career in lieu of motherhood, and thereafter the disquiet of self-assessing that career, a cathartic crescendo gives way to a genius line at the end of chapter one: “and back on with the show…”
Pairing veteran and contemporary hitmakers Jack Antonoff and Dave Bayley is a winning move. She sounds far more invested in this project than she did on High As Hope, where she barely looked concerned in even appearing on the cover art. The result finds the band as bleeding-edge relevant as they have been in three album cycles. The layers are flavorsome, bassy and dynamic alongside fluttering percussion and stories to tell in spoken word. It’s a perfect collaboration I should have realized I wanted, and as the title suggests, it hosts the band’s most instinctual pop-leanings in quite some time.
Amongst the many distinctions of their discography is Welch’s crowning voice, capable of a Beyoncé level ferocity that indie rock is lucky to call their own. It’s a total joy here to see new angles to that herculean tone (the creak of “Restraint,” the high notes of “Choreomania”), not one iota less impressive today than it was in 2008. It always did fit so perfectly with the cinematic voyages she takes us on, grandiose strings and arcane harps transcendent alongside its unique timbre and caliber.
Dance Fever is a wordy beast, and discusses at length Welch’s comprehension of her career, always finding the strength to continue: “And after every tour, I swear I could / It's over boys, now this is it / But the call, it always comes / And it sounds like children / Begging to be born.” It can be heady, and it can be violent.
But it’s frequently relatable. One moment she’s crying into cereal at midnight, the next, musing a witless phenomenon known as the pandemic, which interrupted the creation of the album. “My arms emptied, the skies emptied, the buildings emptied…,” a catastrophe we all continue to battle with that none would have been able to describe prior.
Welch is a superstar, but not a pop star in the traditional sense, and comes across as human as the rest of us. The mercurial Dance Fever is a chaotic return to form from more than just a ceaselessly stellar vocalist, and it is Florence + The Machine’s best album in a decade.
Notable Tracks: “Dream Girl Evil” | “Free” | “King” | “My Love”
BUY Dance Fever via Florence + The Machine’s Official Store
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