The Deification of Florence Welch

Florence Welch is 22 years old. Lungs, the debut album from her band Florence + the Machine, was released just six weeks prior to her August bank holiday weekend appearances at the Leeds and Reading festivals and was almost instantly nominated for the 2009 Mercury Music Prize.

With the ink barely dry on the album artwork and with only three singles having been released, how can it be then that, on the third day of a far from sunny Leeds festival and four places down the bill on the second stage, a crowd of more than 15,000 has forced itself into the NME/Radio 1 tent in order to worship at the six-inch heels of one Florence Welch, just 22.

Florence’s Story

Welch was born on 28 August 1987, the day before Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up began its seemingly endless stay at number one in the UK charts and as the nation continued to reel in the wake of the Hungerford massacre which had burst onto the front pages just nine days earlier. Growing up in and around south London, Florence attended Thomas’s Battersea School and then Alleyn’s in Dulwich. She was at Alleyn’s at the same time as Jack Peñate, who preceded her on the Leeds and Reading bills.

She liked to sing. Halfway into a course at the Camberwell College of Arts, Welch’s own art finally took complete possession of her and she earned a slot on an open club night having cornered the DJ and promoter Mairead Nash in the toilets. And singing to her, drunk.

The bathroom audition (which ultimately led to Nash becoming Florence’s manager), pulling off the ensuing club gig with no backing tapes and an unfamiliar house band (with whom she’d rehearsed for only an hour), a 2009 Brit Award (Critic’s Choice) – these are the things of fairytale. Certainly a very modern fairytale and one aided by internet word-of-mouth but nonetheless a pretty far-fetched story by any measure. At times, and by her own admission, things moved faster than Welch could cope with.

Overwhelmed, there were tears backstage after receiving her Brit award and then there was the band name, hastily coined en route to a gig as Florence hadn’t given much prior thought as to how to package herself - it was purely about the music. Whether performances were on a wing and a prayer or with the benefit of studious preparation, Welch gave it everything each time she took to the stage, showing self-belief, guts and gall. Fans tend to go for that sort of thing.

The Sound

Intentionally or otherwise, and perhaps influenced by a declared interest in Renaissance artwork, Florence’s performances have echoes of the religious - a central, almost messianic figure, arms outstretched, disciples gathered below. Of course, Welch’s art differs significantly from any Renaissance masterpiece though, much like a great painting, the album is indeed carefully and beautifully constructed so as to stand close scrutiny and, perhaps, resist the unforgiving and attritional sands of time.

The music itself is seemingly born of a desire to be honest and brave – as showcased in those earliest performances - and this boldness is most effectively exhibited in a live show. Amongst others, Kate Bush and The Smiths and the grungy punk of Nirvana and Green Day are cited as inspiring the young Welch yet this only goes so far in explaining the Florence + the Machine sound; it is eclectic in both influence and nature.

With rare exception, the percussion, piano and epic lead vocal are all to the front, lending some tracks a sound not dissimilar to the Italian-style nineties house music of Welch’s earliest years. The backing vocals frequently exhibit a choral quality creating depth and reasonance, and hinting further at the euphoric uplifting house music of yesteryear. Album opener, Dogs Days Are Over, is one such gem; at times a breathless, soulful dash; at others, the calming eye of the storm.

Elsewhere on Lungs lurk indie-rock (Kiss With A Fist) and folky, chill-out (Girl With One Eye). It’s rock and disco and punk and electronic and dance and folk; Florence Welch has her own genre - eclectronica. Expect impersonators; false idols. Yet, by her own admission, Welch sees herself more as a live artist than one who does her best work in the studio.

Leeds

Leeds 2009 and, having completed just 8,036 days on this earth, Florence has drawn a vast crowd to a soggy tent in Yorkshire. The pre-show buzz is at fever pitch. When she takes the stage just a minute after the advertised stage time, Welch cuts a statuesque figure in her killer heels, black dress and mane of copper-red hair, arms raised, head back. The heels alone draw gasps of awe from the expectant masses when highlighted on the big screens. The mic stand is adorned with flowers. The scene is set.

Such is the majesty of the performance that, when the rain comes to Leeds, one cannot help but wonder if Florence made it happen. The downfall is so biblically fierce that, in places, rain penetrates the awning overhead, showering the drummer. But for Florence + the Machine there are no histrionics - just playing out the track before the hasty addition of a hooded sweatshirt. They embrace the adversity, and there is a sense that it is almost welcome – an opportunity to be different, to give the crowd something unique. When the rain starts hitting the front of the stage, Florence literally embraces it, gamely joking about electrocution.

But the Leeds performance loses crucial minutes to these rain delays and the set runs out of time. The spectacular re-telling of Candi Staton’s You’ve Got the Love proves to be the last offering, instead of the already customary Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up). In Rabbit Heart, Welch sings of becoming a ‘lion-hearted girl’.

For her worshippers, the notion of Florence Welch as lion-hearted - as their Boudicca – is key to her appeal; at once mystical and warrior-like and yet one of their own. She braves the rain (not all would), she jokes about being electrocuted, she brandishes a badly gashed hand that has been gaffer taped-up so as not to detract from her outfit. And though she looks striking – tall, pretty and immaculately presented - Welch clearly cares mostly if not only for the music, for the performance. She gives everything; she breathlessly chats and smiles and charms and loves and wears her lion heart on her short, sequined sleeve.

Quite where Florence + the Machine will go next is unclear. There’s the first major headline tour of the UK and Europe which commences this autumn. No doubt, there’ll be a hasty graduation to ever bigger venues - certainly the performances are grand enough for even the largest of arenas. At least then, more people will get to see one of this generation’s most inspirational live performers before something ruins it, as is surely, sadly, destined to happen.

So, if you do nothing else in the next 12 months, get a ticket. Beg one, steal one. And if you cannot get hold of a ticket to see Welch work her magic, then you should pray for divine intervention.

With Florence, you never know.