Britishes try to capture that VMA thunder once more…
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[6.00]
Katherine St Asaph: Florence and the Machine have no business emulating Ryan Tedder’s “Bleeding Love” technique of crushing organs with percussion, no matter where else he appears on the album. But damned if the Cocteau-ish background vocals on the chorus and sheer size of the thing don’t overwhelm any objections.
[7]
Doug Robertson: Clearly the machine that Florence is currently working with is that of the wind variety, as this seems specifically designed to be performed whilst stood in front of one, wearing a billowing white dress and throwing out your arms as you hit the final chorus. Either that or it wants to be soundtracking as many end of year montages as humanely – or machinely – possible. It soars epically, but not in an organic way, more like someone has looked at the sound desk, found the dials marked “Soar” and “Epic” and turned them up to 100%, and its this disconnect between the supposed and actual emotion on display that ultimately fails to satisfy. She might as well be singing about a carton of orange juice.
[6]
Brad Shoup: Written by Welch as a sort of hangover cure…of course, the exigencies of the morning after call for easily-retrieved thoughts, thus the astounding level of blather about dark before dawn, dead horses, and pounds of flesh. It’s rough when everyone expects you to blow the roof off each time out, surely, and sometimes you’ll find yourself with a tube-tied Bo Diddley beat and an eerie resemblance to Neil Diamond’s “America”.
[4]
Edward Okulicz: I feel like this is about 50% “Bleeding Love” and 30% “Life in a Northern Town”. Which makes it 80% awesome.
[8]
Alfred Soto: Suspicious of this woman but lacking evidence for conviction, I jump eagerly on this “Bleeding Love” simulation, in which Florence’s idea of emotion is to loosen her top button and shout loud enough to shake the citizens of Burkina Faso.
[4]
Jonathan Bradley: “It’s always darkest before the dawn” is the key line here; Florence Welch sings a grim tune assured that this misery will pass. The song is both regretful and hopeful; something is coming to an end, but the spirited march turns the mourning triumphant. It’s breathtaking enough to make epic the incongruous lyrical image of Welch shoving a horse into a hole while Satan rides her shoulders. While she dances.
[7]