Florence + the Machine has always been brilliantly unique, with vocals and instrumentals that soar above the clouds and sweep beneath the seas, paired with lyrics that cut to the bone in their precision. From “Lungs” to “Dance Fever,” every album they release is a breathtaking experience, and “Everybody Scream” is no exception. Released three years after their last album, there were high expectations, and each and every one was not only met, but shattered.
A mere day after the album was announced on Aug. 19, the titular single “Everybody Scream” was released, perfectly showcasing lead singer and frontwoman Florence Welch’s phenomenal vocal capabilities and lyrical genius. The song is a stunning, haunting lament about the power and poison of fame, filled to the brim with the devastating harmonies that are so prominent in her music. It highlights her own struggles with her celebrity status — how physically and mentally taxing it is, while still being dangerously intoxicating. The sharp instrumentals and soaring vocals only serve to amplify her anguish, echoing her inner turmoil and creating a deep connection with her listeners.
However, on a more personal level, it also reaches out to her audience as an ode to the pains and pressures of perfectionism. The first prechorus is almost painful in its precision: “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.” The concept of pushing oneself to constantly be everything everyone expects them to be is achingly familiar to audiences around the world, and Welch conveys it perfectly throughout the song.
The second track, “One of the Greats,” is just as powerful. At first listen, it is not quite as harmonically complex as “Everybody Scream,” but the sweeping minor chords and stunningly complex lyrics quickly captivate the audience. The song is simultaneously an ode to Welch’s career and a reflection on her own mortality after a near-death experience during her “Dance Fever” tour. Lyrically, the song is one of her best, truly showcasing just how powerful of a wordsmith she is. It echoes her fears of growing irrelevant, defined only by the massive success of her first album, “Lungs.” With lines like “You see yourself hung on the wall but that song is not about you” and “I was only beautiful under the lights, only powerful there,” she spends verse after verse vocalizing her desperation that she will only ever be known for her onstage persona and never anything more.
The chorus builds on this, introducing her ideas of resurrection and what it was worth. The constantly repeated “Arms outstretched, back from the dead” and “Did I get it right? Did I win the prize? / Do you regret bringing me back to life?” serve as a recall to Welch’s miscarriage in 2023. “Everybody Scream” is her first studio album released since her health crisis, and this song in particular serves to represent the idea that she was brought back for a reason, and how she worries if she is really worth the second chance. That experience served as a major source of inspiration for the album, leading to reflections on her life and worth as a whole.
“The closest I came to making life was the closest I came to death,” Welch said in an interview. “And I felt like I had stepped through this door, and it was just full of women screaming.”
The next few songs on the album follow similar themes, using her fierce harmonies to convey her rage, her fears and her desperation. While each is absolutely fantastic, “Kraken” and “The Old Religion” are particular standouts. “Kraken” is built on the idea of Welch likening herself to a monster of the deep, a danger in her own life and a destroyer of others. “The Old Religion” is a bit more introspective, but filled with vocals that truly felt like a transcendence. This song is another reflection on her pregnancy, but focuses instead on her journey of healing and whether everything was really worth it. The knife-like pain in her voice is brutal, but it lends to the creation of one of the most powerful songs on the album.
The grand finale of “Everybody Scream” comes in two parts — the violent anguish of “You Can Have it All” and the soft exhale of “And Love” — working hand in hand and culminating in the storm of emotions that led to this album. “You Can Have it All” is a painful, poignant representation of Welch facing her fears at once. She fights her grief, stares down her sacrifices and buries her agony, all while repeating the titular line “You can have it all.” The chorus serves as a source of derision and irony; she has given and lost so much, but at least she has the painful fame that she references in the first track. The music itself is devastating in its beauty and ferocity, creating an echo of the emotions that are woven throughout the track.
“And Love,” however, serves as a soft breath at the end. Following the agony and desperation of the rest of the album, it creates a quiet finale that feels like a weight off the chest. Every other song has been a howl, scream or lamentation, and the final track is the sigh of relief at the end. “And Love” characterizes love as a quiet creature or a period of rest, serving as a foil to her characterization of it as a fierce emptiness in the song “Hunger” off of the 2018 album “High as Hope.” Even the instrumentals are soft and lovely, creating an air of peace that is only amplified by repeating the line “Peace is coming” at the end of the song. It is a warm, loving finale, the epilogue to the pain. Welch has weathered her storm, and “And Love” is the promise of clearer days ahead.
“Everybody Scream” is a vicious album, an album fraught with agony and screams and jagged teeth. It is a reflection of fears, a lamentation of grief and a pain that tears from the inside out. Lyrically and instrumentally, it is absolutely incredible in every possible way and truly showcases Florence + the Machine’s stunning capabilities. It is a breathtaking work of art and represents not just a recovery, but a resurrection.
