Florence and the Machine, Shepherd's Bush Empire, Sept 28th
Florence and the Machine played Shepherd's Bush Empire on Sept 28th
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By Darren Estwick. |  |
Wednesday, 30, Sep 2009 10:25
It began in a Soho toilet with an aspiring singer pouring her voice out to a stranger. The stranger became her manager, taking her to gigs where she would tap and slap her hands on walls - bodily extensions that acted as instruments.
She spent years playing the gig circuit - dingy bars and basement clubs. But, finally, the long-legged hopeful with pre-Raphaelite looks - bleached skin and ketchup coloured hair - found herself nominated for the Mercury Prize this year.
Tipped as the strong favorite, she ultimately lost out to a relative unknown. But watching Florence Welch on stage at Shepherd's Bush, it's clear that this setback hasn't impacted her much.
Eyes rolling, arms flaying, she gives the impression of a woman possessed. The music emanates from her very core, flowing through every inch of her being.
As if in a trance, her physical state gives the impression she's shouting - purging the words, shaking you with both hands so you feel the full weight of their meaning.
But when the sound hits your ears, not a single note is strained. It resonates with perfect clarity and makes you gulp down the sound as your throat catches and your eyes well.
She faultlessly delivers songs from her debut Lungs - an unapologetic recitation of raw, blistering feelings. She manages to show both fearsome confidence as she writhes around the stage, with a vulnerability of the most fragile kind.
Raging about being left alone in the dark, her pain is palpable, but quickly moves to softly spoken words of regret.
She claims to write her best songs when drunk, hungover or in a transient, delirious state. The tiredness strips down her ability to hide from herself, leaving honest - sometimes humiliating - lyrics.
Accordingly, the track Hurricane Drunk is particularly entrancing, as he bawls the lines:
"I hope that you see me, because I'm staring at you.
But when you look over, you look straight through.
And I never felt so alive, and so dead."
Dressed in a billowing floor-length dress, she commands the crowd to dance like Banshees, culminating in a euphoric rendition of her B-side cover, You've Got the Love.
Anyone who questions the longevity and staying power of today's musicians clearly hasn't witnessed the spectacle of Florence and her mighty Machine live.
Laura Holt