Everybody Scream
One of the best records of the year. Three years following the release of Dance Fever, Florence Welch returns with Everybody Scream - a reminder for anyone who might have forgotten that she truly is pop royalty. The Halloween release date makes perfect sense once you listen. Everybody Scream is witty, spell-binding, and so very witchy.
In a time where so much of pop is oversaturated with so much of the same, Everybody Scream is a fresh dose of Florence + The Machine’s radically free, unique sound. It is her (and ROSALÍA, with her soon-to-be-released LUX) that I trust to keep pop tethered to something with fucking soul in 2025.
And man, does Everybody Scream have soul. It feels almost silly to comment on Florence’s vocal production. It would feel ungrateful to ask for anything more. She will surely be remembered in history as one of the best vocalists of our era. Not only is the overall production rather immaculate (which is why there is not much to say), Florence’s lyricism and storytelling is the perhaps also the best it has ever been. The themes at the heart of the record feel tangibly close-to-home for Welch at this stage in her life and career. The two most prominent are (1) the push-and-pull of stardom and (2) uninhibited femininity. The two themes work beautifully together. Let me explain how.
When Welch sings about her career, she sings about her power. The power the stages gives her. The way she needs it. In an exclusive interview with Rolling Stones (out today), Welch discussed at-length about how “anxiety is the hum of my life - until I step on the stage.” She explains that being in the spotlight doesn’t intimidate her, it strengthens her. Music - and especially her live shows (which are internationally renowned for being captivating, raw exhibitions, and which I was once fortunate enough to attend) - bring out an unapologetic, empowered spirit in her. This is what the title track - and thus, in a way, the album, is about: “Here, I don’t have to be quiet. Here, I don’t have to be kind. Extraordinary and normal, all at the same time. But look at me run myself ragged, blood on the stage. But how can I leave when you’re screaming my name?” The dynamic implies some hint of toxicity, like an addiction. But a drug she ultimately cannot live without. She builds on this in the following track, One of the Greats: “And my dresses and my flowering magic, so like a woman to profit from her madness. I was only beautiful under the lights, only powerful there.” An incredible lyric.
Furthemore, in One of the Greats, she is powerful because she has to be. She competing a man’s game. She is surviving. She is here to prove something. To beat the gamemakers: “You’ll say it’s all pretend, that I could never be held up against such male tastes. Because who really gets to be one of the greats, one of the greats? But I’ve really done it this time, this one is all mine. I’ll be up there with the man and ten other women, and the hundred greatest records of all time.” The ferocity with which she spits that last line comes straight from her heart. She knows what she is doing. And she knows she is right. She follows it with “It must be nice to be a man and make boring music because you can (Which makes me crack a smile every time I hear it). Now don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan. You’re my second favorite frontman. And you could have me if you weren’t so afraid of me. It’s funny how men don’t find power very sexy, so this one’s for the ladies.”
These lines are part of a genius transition from the first two tracks into the rest of the alum. Everybody Scream and One of the Greats do a phenomenal job of laying Florence’s foundation: a powerful woman who does not need to prove herself to you. Nothing she does or says can or will overshadow her success.
Which is why she is able to follow with tracks about wild femininity - that “too feminine to function” thing she alludes to in One of the Greats. She turns from a top-chart rockstar to a witch: retched and cursed and angry and sexy and desiring and summoning ancestors. She is transformed into a pagan forest mistress, surrounded by howling women of the woods. “Glamorous and ravenous.” Rejecting men, then craving them. Giving them power over you. Being told you are not good enough. “Breaking my bones and getting 4 out of 5.” Peace-seeking and chaos-making (notice the disgusted sigh after “let there be love” in Music by Men, hehe). When tapping into the wild womanhood of “taking off [your] nightgown and running through the town”, Florence delivers us some of her best writing to date: “The one pink ribbon that holds me together”; “I know how to fall in love, I do it constantly”; “His blackberry mouth stains my nightgown”; “Slide down in my seat as not to threaten you.” She enters a realm of writing about femininity rarely breached in pop: “So I don’t have to be worthy, I no longer try to be good. It didnt keep me safe like you told me that it would”, for example, is an absolutely gutting line that is bound to resonate with women everywhere. Here, Florence is asking us to be free with her. To be empowered with her. To become our own gamemasters. In The Old Religion - a career highlight track for many fans - she curses the way the world has been set up for her to fail: “And I'm powerless, oh, don't remind me.” And yet, Everybody Scream could not feel less powerless.
Buckle is one of the most remarkable tracks on the record. I like it because it strays slightly from the full, cinematic sound that serves as the background to Florence’s vocals. Instead, the instrumentals are minimal, leaving just Florence and an acoustic guitar on the center stage. The melody is so stripped but so shattering - a perfectly compliment to the lyrics, which are among the best on the record. Buckle is Florence at the mercy of a man who does not reciprocate her feelings. A universal feeling that drags Florence to the gates of madness. This is a critical experience for so many women, and yet, so many shy away from expressing the feeling so authentically (I can think of only FKA Twigs as a fair comparison). The writing is simple yet among her most effective on the record. It is a rare time we see Florence use such straightforward language (“Thousands came to see me and you couldn’t reply for three days” and “I blocked you’re number but you didn’t notice”) and yet her tastefulness never falters. It is important that we feel close to Florence like this, in tatters. It is what bonds us to her in this record.
I cannot say enough praise for the chorus, which I am sure will resonate all too deeply with many:
“Cause I’m stupid and I’m damaged and you’re a disaster. When you walk into the room, oh none of it matters. Oh baby, I just buckle, my resolution in tatters. Cause I know it wont work, but make it ache, make it hurt. I’m not better than this, show me what I’m worth. Keep me a secret, choose someone else. I’ll still be here, hanging off the buckle on your belt.”
Buckle also plays a critical role in the album. It is so very important for women to see that they can be “left screaming on the floor” with their “resolution in tatters” from a man while still remaining individuals deserving of no less respect. So often we are told as women that rejecting men is synonymous with strength. That needing a man is a sign of weakness. But Florence reminds us that wanting is not weak. Wanting is one of the most powerful things a woman can do.
And this is the beauty of this album. The fucking genius and beauty. It is a shockingly accurate, well-rounded portrait of femininity. She captures the duality of womanhood and the cycles we live by in one single stroke of her paintbrush: being so very powerful and acknowledging all that makes us powerless. Every woman knows the oscillation between “burrowing down in a house in the woods at the edge of town” like “an animal crawling into a dark cave” to then taking over the world like a crowned, holy deity. In her surrender, in her ache, in her joy, in her lust, in her power, Florence is every woman. In this way, Everybody Scream is a raw, celebratory diary of all that womanhood is. All at once. Bravo, Florence.
