Her latest five-piece line-up of the Machine conjured a huge goth-rock sound. But rumbling deep bass and tub-thumping heavy drumming filled the arena, making it sound muddy. This was particularly a problem when Welch sang at the lower part of her range, her wordy lyrics becoming indistinguishable until she rose above the wall of sound with her trademark banshee ululations. Welch has lung power and an otherworldly vibrato, but over a two-hour set, there was not enough dynamic space to let the songs really breathe.
Outstanding moments occurred when arrangements were reined in: a stark piano-led Big God, a tender You Can Have It All, and an acoustic singalong of new crowd favourite Buckle. The latter is a song of downtrodden love that Welch admitted she did not want to include on Everybody Scream. “I thought I’m too old, I’m done complaining about this stuff,” she said, but she was persuaded otherwise, “and then it became everyone’s favourite song and now I’m going to be singing it for f—ing ever.”
Perhaps its popularity might be a hint. It is a song with less hysteria and more melodic movement than most of her recent material, which allows her to sing without sounding like she is either leading troops into battle or lamenting the fallen.
The crowd were not sparing in their adoration. It was striking to see Welch stand with arms wide open, as if absorbing all the energy in the room. She is a bold artist, whose strange, striking songs of fragile yet powerful womanhood mean a great deal to her fans. This was a triumphant return. I just worry that this gothic iteration of the Machine is pushing Welch to sound increasingly one-note. It is an impressive note, for sure, but there is more to her.
Touring the UK until Feb 22 then playing Reading and Leeds Festival in August; florenceandthemachine.net
