Gig Watch : Florence and the Machine

Florence and the Machine

Review by Lisa Dib

It is hard not to fall immediately in love with UK siren Florence Welch. As frontwoman - and, indeed, essence - of Florence and the Machine, she commands, at least, attention; at most, desire and gaping awe.

Florence and her Machine (that is, the band, not a robot...) opened the sold-out show with the substantially light (considering the mostly epic nature of most of their debut album Lungs) My Boy Builds Coffins. 

As they powered through the Lungs tracklist (I believe they played everything from the record bar Girl With One Eye… I am not going to assume it was because it is my least favourite song from the album, but maybe somebody up there likes me), one cannot help go where every journalist, speaking about the band, have been before, and will go.

Welch is the star of the show, make no mistake; flailing about in her winged costume, her shock of crimson locks set the stage aflame. She doesn’t seem to get too caught up in stage semantics, letting the beat and lyrics decide her moves as they come.

The only incongruity I found tonight was Florence's vocal on Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up). I suppose I am being picky. It is my favourite song on the album, so I am no doubt far more precious about it. And considering the breadth of effects no doubt used in studio, it may be hard to replicate live. 

Nevertheless, it is my duty to report, no? 

I felt that Florence’s voice didn't reach that beautiful apex that Rabbit Heart on disc can bring- there, I said it. I still love you, Florence!

Dog Days Are Over really stood out as the genuine crowd-pleaser; those storming-Heaven’s-gate drums, the delicate build up to an almighty chorus. Vigorous tracks like Drumming Song, Kiss with a Fist and an eerie cover of Cold War Kids' Hospital Beds kept Florence insanely active; having interviewed her the afternoon preceding this gig, I noted her mention of her adoration for hands-in-the-air euphoric pop, real heavenly juice.

And this is what Florence and the Machine bring to the Palace tonight; those unafraid to let the music burrow in their person becomes enlightened, ecstatic, exhilarated. 

Florence's killer voice no doubt touches a long-ignored core within many punters tonight.

Brought To You By The Dwarf