Released June 29, 2018
7.5 / 10
Favorites
June, Big God, The End Of Love, No Choir
Least favorites
South London Forever
Florence Whelch gathers the broken glass in the wake of tumultuous and self-destructive habits in the band's fourth opus. More than ever, the lead singer appears to be willing to fare without the "machine". "High As Hope" documents Florence's decision to go sober - both in real life and music. She takes the time to re-kindle the relationships that matter most, on a backdrop of pedal steel guitar, cello and bellowing sax. A first, her name appears on production credits, alongside Emile Haynie, known for his work on Lana Del Rey's "Born To Die". The album features less belting and more conversation than could be expected of Florence + The Machine. In fact, most songs read like poetry and serve as catharsis in words more than in form. In the wake of the devastation caused by years of self-destructive habits, Florence attributes part of it to attempting to fill a void, an isolating "hunger". Hunger makes a compelling case as it starts with a staggeringly raw confession: "At seventeen I started to starve myself / I thought that love was a kind of emptiness / And at least I understood then the hunger I felt / And I didn't have to call it loneliness". Her words are as personal as they get yet they're hungry for universality. Florence is willing to share her tribulations, the path of trial-and-error to stuff the void. She delivers brutally honest lines on her misguided attempts, explaining "I thought that love was in the drugs / But the more I took, the more it took away / And I could never get enough / I thought that love was on the stage, give yourself to strangers". The track is also perhaps the most Florence-y in style on the album - this will probably mean different things to different people but I stand by it. It hits particularly hard from its first lines because of a treatment that preserved Florence's breathing, giving an impression of a rushed confession, a need to share. Unfortunately, the song feels much longer than its modest 3:34 min and the chorus grows old fast. Hunger doesn't feel ripe for picking, as its emotionally charged verses feel disconnected from the song's musical fabric. Its abrupt ending is particularly satisfying but it might not be that good of a sign. Another retrospective look at how Florence tried filling the void unfolds in South London Forever. She looks back at dizzying nights with brilliant lyrics, re-capturing the ephemeral exaltation of drug-induced euphoria ("It doesn't get better than this / What else could be better than this?"). She sounds grateful for the experience despite its haunting ramifications, celebrating times she "forgot [her] name / And the way back to [her] mother's house". The track rings like a fond reminiscence of a younger Florence's antics, proving that her attempts to fill the screaming void - at least for a short while - were not as futile as she suggested on Hunger. Still, the repetition and gradation of these experiences added up to toxic results, as she suggests on stripped down Sky Full Of Song (at least as stripped as a Florence + The Machine song can be considering their seemingly inexorable tendency to amp up arrangements to dramatic levels). Florence reflects on ways of coping as an artist and the search for temporary refuge in her creativity. The refuge is indeed temporary; the track implies additional self-medication, to the point of "I thought I was flying but maybe I'm dying tonight", on a background of twinkling harp and muffled double-bass. It's not just a problem of filling one's cup with the right elixir but also of not letting it overflow and ravage the tablecloth. In reality, excess is and has always been an obsession for Florence + The Machine. This time around, the band shows more restraint: songs are less obviously flamboyant, less tribal, less cluttered than usual. Turns out Florence has traded out their signature formula for another, pressed for all it's got. In "High As Hope" most tracks begin very stripped, leading with Florence's vocals and what sounds like a poetry reading and followed by awakening instrumentals. June starts off the album crisp and delicate vocals, followed by spaced deep percussion, marking the transition to a more sustained regime. Sizzling synth awaken with the chorus, pressing a call to "Hold on to each other" along with choir background vocals. The song grows into its own, swelling on a backdrop of muffled piano chords until it reaches its apex and hyperventilates a few seconds before ending precipitously. As an introduction to the album, this progression is fresh and exciting. But by the time Patricia begins, the formula feels a bit overused. This track reminds of Florence + The Machine's previous LP "How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful", driving a sound that feels more determined, more aggressive. Patricia is a fine tribute to the legendary Patti Smith but somehow reads more salient than that. I was lucky enough to attend the High As Hope tour Brooklyn show at Barclays Center in September 2018 in the midst of a strange political climate in the US that saw the Kavanaugh hearings unfold before America's eyes. In this context, the words "You told me all doors are open to the believer / I believe her, I believe her, I believe her" took on a new meaning and electrified the arena, people chanting at the top of their lungs, shouting in unison to express what felt like much-needed support for survivors of sexual abuse. Another rush came in as Florence roared one of her angriest verse yet: "Well you're a 'real man', and you do what you can / You only take as much as you can grab with two hands / With your big heart, you praise God above / But how's that working out for you, honey? / Do you feel loved?". I haven't been able to think of Patricia the same ever since. Musically, it swirls and spins so much that it can feel a bit all over the place; there's just too much going on. The song would probably have been better off if its different components had been more spread out, making for a longer track that's easier to follow and take in. Serenity seems at reach when looking to fill the void with connection and love. It moves further away when shying from your responsibility to maintain those connections or blaming something outside of your control for your behavior. In June, Florence sounds like she finds comfort in her loved ones and reminds us to care for one another. In passing, she also alludes to how love seems so overplayed that it's overlooked, and "love became an act of defiance". Grace, dedicated to her sister, sees Florence apologizing for her past destructive habits. She's asking for forgiveness, knowing all too well that apologies are only one step to healing and that it's not for her to decide if she should be forgiven. Her voice carries the melody, commanding the directions instruments should follow; on "High As Hope" Florence is almost always the protagonist in the musical exchanges. Completing the holy trinity of love, family and religion comes Big God. The track mystifies the void and transcends it into a factitious higher power. Mixing the literal and the figurative - which she doesn't do much on other tracks - Florence sighs, "Jesus Christ, it hurts". Big God is heavy and solemn, featuring some exceptional production. As ominous as it can sound, it also radiates a kind of warmth, matching its grand concept with percolating percussions, a trembling bassline and rich horn arrangements. Florence's vocals are raw, breathing heavily to add rhythm and intensity to her delivery. The song's last movement is all waves crashing, horns blaring, drums pounding, before the tempest subdues, leaving tambourine crickets and a guttural sigh from deep within. Curiously, the end flourish manages to sound understated; for all its grandeur, it can't match up to the highest of concepts. "High As Hope" couldn't end on a better note than it does with the pairing ofThe End Of Love and No Choir. The former showcases a heartbreaking yet hopeful melancholia as Florence comes to terms with the end of passion, the retiring of the tides after a brusque flood. Even when the song surges and overflows its bed, it sticks to a simple melody and leaves ample space to swim around its layers. It's particularly effective in conveying a significant breadth of emotions, as demonstrated by the lines: "In a moment of joy and fury I threw myself / From the balcony like my grandmother so many years before me". No Choir's exquisite lyricism ends the album on a sublime note. It's soothing and exciting at the same time. It underscores the creative power of pain and drama, suggesting that on her path to plenitude, Florence will take the time to re-build her relationship with herself. Now that we're mostly stuck inside maybe we should take the time and do the same?
Favorite lyrics
"And I don't know anything Except that green is so green And there's a special kind of sadness that seems to come with spring"
South London Forever "And it's hard to write about being happy 'Cause the older I get I find that happiness is an extremely uneventful subject"
No Choir
留言