In keeping with the witching season, Florence and the Machine released Everybody Scream—the follow-up to 2022’s Dance Fever—on Halloween. Its themes are perfectly suited to autumn: witchcraft, folk horror, mysticism, magic, poetry, and even madness.
The album is deeply informed by the aftermath of frontwoman Florence Welch’s life-saving surgery in 2023. She has called this her most personal work to date, confronting the body’s limits and the process of healing.
Florence and the Machine returned to the studio with founders Florence Welch and Isabella Summers alongside their long-time bandmates. With Welch at the creative helm, the group collaborated with producers and writers Aaron Dessner, James Ford, Mitski Miyawaki, and Mark Bowen. Together, they deliver twelve tracks quintessentially Florence—ethereal yet anthemic, fearless in tone as Welch delves into her psyche and fears.
The album opens with the eponymous Everybody Scream, both meditative and primal. Beginning quietly before erupting into a tribal crescendo, it explores the scream as celebration, catharsis, and emotional release—an impressive, visceral introduction. Welch keeps the momentum with One of the Greats, which nods to her inspirations—Kate Bush, Stevie Nicks, and Joni Mitchell—while reflecting on the pressures faced by women in music to chase success at all costs. There’s a biting irony in her observation, “So like a woman to profit from her madness.” Musically, it’s classic Florence: an epic build leading to a cathartic payoff.
Elements of magic and mysticism thread throughout the record in songs like Witch Dance, Sympathy Magic, Perfume and Milk, Drink Deep, and The Old Religion. On Witch Dance, Welch channels her near-death experience following an ectopic pregnancy, intertwining themes of sexuality, birth, and mortality. Where Witch Dance feels defiant and thunderous, Perfume and Milk is almost prayer-like—an ode to feminine fertility and the sacredness of the body. Drink Deep recalls the fairytale qualities of Dance Fever, a dreamlike hymn to forest spirits and renewal.
Buckle returns to the theme of female artistry, exploring fame’s isolating side. “Loved by thousands but still lonely,” Welch admits, waiting for someone who never calls back. Her confession—“still hanging off the buckle of your belt”—is both self-aware and heartbreaking. Kraken extends this introspection, examining obsessional love within the parasocial relationship between artist and admirer. “Did you know how big I would become and how much I would eat?” she asks—an image as monstrous as it is moving. Both Buckle and Kraken linger long after they end.
The country-tinged acoustic Music by Men offers a stream-of-consciousness reflection on a toxic relationship, balancing raw anger with vulnerability. In contrast, the Zeppelin-esque You Can Have It All tackles the societal pressure on women to “do everything” and “be everything.” Welch lays bare the exhaustion behind ambition, turning it into one of the record’s most striking moments.
The closer, And Love, serves as a luminous coda—a release after the emotional and physical turmoil. With its harp flourishes and calm exhalation, it feels like a spiritual cleansing, transforming pain into grace.
Everybody Scream is Florence and the Machine at their most elemental—haunting, cinematic, and emotionally fearless. Welch embraces imperfection, truth, and transformation, offering an album that feels both raw and refined. Her full-throated vocals are spellbinding as she turns trauma into transcendence, growing a sonic garden from her scars.
Everybody Scream isn’t just a return to form—it’s her most vital work yet. A deeply human, spellbinding triumph.
10/10 album. Her best work in maybe 10 years.