Florence Welch’s Lush Magical World

It's impossible to listen to the rich, baroque, often clanging and thudding music of Florence + the Machine and not feel a little stirring in your heart. With theatrical flourishes like accelerating climaxes and rousing crescendos, which are standard Florence fare, and melancholic lyrics, the band's leader, Florence Welch, creates a heady auditory experience that more closely mirrors a gospel choir's frenzy or a dramatic film's score than radio-friendly pop. Her music is augmented by moody visuals, allowing fans into the introverted singer/songwriter's colorful and magical inner world.

Text: Florence Welch's Magical World of Inspiration by Whitney Teal

There are certain themes that Florence routinely returns to in her music, videos, stage performances and costumes which point to some of her most enduring inspirations: religion, fine art and mental illness. This video will look at each of these themes, attempt to trace their origins among Florence's many, eclectic influences and dig a bit deeper to decipher more of what her music wants us to understand. 

From “How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful” | Florence + the Machine (Island Records, 2015):

Between a crucifix and the Hollywood sign, we decided to get hurt

Now there's a few things we have to burn

Set our hearts ablaze, and every city was a gift

And every skyline was like a kiss upon the lips

And I was making you a wish

In every skyline

How big, how blue, how beautiful

How big, how blue, how beautiful

Religion: 'Christ-Haunted' 

Though Florence has said that she isn't particularly religious, the pageantry and drama of religion, especially Catholicism, routinely make appearances in the band's lyrics and visuals. As America magazine's Mary Grace Mangano wrote,

The sacramental imagination of Catholicism has a deep hold on her psyche. As Flannery O’Connor said of the American South, Welch seems if not 'Christ-centered,' then certainly ‘Christ-haunted.’

And haunted this young woman certainly is. Demons, ghouls and ghosts make frequent appearances in the band's lyrics, standing in for Florence's many afflictions, emotional damage and regrets. Just take the, well, haunting introduction to 2011's "Shake It Out."

From “Shake It Out” | Florence + the Machine (Island Records, 2011): 

Regrets collect like old friends

Here to relive your darkest moments

I can see no way, I can see no way

And all of the ghouls come out to play

And every demon wants his pound of flesh

But I like to keep some things to myself

In Florence's world, things are very clearly good or evil; black or white; either savior or demon. And taking a peek into her background, this starts to make more sense. Florence was raised Catholic and attended Catholic schools. 

If not a source of salvation, Christianity, particularly the Old Testament, allegorical, "man in his eternal struggle against evil"-variety of Christianity, certainly serves as a source of inspiration for Florence, who once told USA Today:

The first songs I remember liking were hymns. I find it’s nice to mix the mundane and the magical, the irrelevant with the huge themes. Sex, love, death, marriage, guilt.

Which is a great way to describe Florence's use of religion in her work — she goes straight for the heavy stuff, the big God. Just see song titles like "Girls Against God," "Dream Girl Evil," "Prayer Factory" and "Heaven is Here" — and that's just from the latest album.

What most interests me about Florence and her relationship to religion as a source of inspiration is how much it differs from many of her peers — fellow millennials and her fellow album-makers alike — who seem to strive to remove all specificity when discussing anything bordering on religion. She's not talking about "spirit" or "energy" or "vibes." She's talking about standing off against the devil; ascending to Heaven (not "the afterlife") and praying to a certain, cisgendered and out-of-vogue God. Juxtaposed against these Dark Age-moral tales are her personal views, which are much less precise. She frequently talks about channeling something when she creates music and performs. 

From BBC Radio 1:

Whatever kind of channel there is or whatever's like going on when you're making music, which often feels like something is working through you rather than you, it was so much clearer and this album just kind of flowed out.

I've had to really give myself over to whatever is in charge of performances for me. It isn't really me out there. I had to just be like, “OK, YOU got this.”

Florence even wrote a book called Useless Magic that is inspired by the other-worldly force she feels is present in her creativity, but these ideas don't seem to be rooted in any particular religion or organized practice of spirituality. 

But, still, Florence's own undefined spirituality and the spirituality of others serves as a constant and consistent pool of inspiration. When speaking about the dance track that changed her life, Florence described The Source's disco-remixed gospel song "You Got the Love," which she also re-made on Florence + the Machine's debut album.

From Rolling Stoke UK:

But really it's the spirituality of that song and, I think, spirituality that's at the core of a lot of dance music because dance is about catharsis and transcendence. You can feel sort of her connection to spirit there and she sings with such reverence. Her performance of that and that song itself changed my life.

This sentiment really seems to be at the core of Florence's use of religion and religious themes in her art: she's emphasizing the idea that change and redemption are possible, no matter what metaphorical demons you may be fighting. 

From “You Got the Love” | Florence + the Machine (Island Records, 2008):

When food is gone you are my daily meal

When friends are gone I know my saviour's love is real

You know it's real

'Cause you've got the love

You've got the love

Fine Art: The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood 

Almost immediately after the band's debut album, fans and critics started to notice that the lithe, willowy bottle-ginger frontwoman of Florence + the Machine seemed to have stepped out of another time with her shaggy, flowing locks — often styled in milkmaid braids or waves set off by long bangs — and her baroque, vintage dresses. Fashion houses took notice too and Florence began a longstanding partnership with Gucci's creative director Alessandro Michele, whose lush, romantic and often nostalgic designs for the Italian brand seem made for a muse like Florence. 

This sense that Florence is a strange relic from another time is really fitting given her background. Her mother was a professor of Renaissance Studies at King's College London for much of her childhood — an association that no doubt inspired the singer's very name, as Florence, Italy was an important cultural center during the Renaissance. Florence was also briefly an art student, studying illustration at Camberwell College of Arts before leaving to pursue music. 

Through her mother or through art school — but probably through her mother — Florence became aware of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, a loose band of 19th century English artists and art critics who promoted a return to classical painting styles that emphasized history and nature through life-like details and color. Believing that artists like Raphael and Michelangelo were crass and pagan, these young painters looked to their Christian faith for inspiration and some of the most famous paintings from this group are read as allegories for Christian morals. Like Florence, they were nostalgic artists who rejected modernity and minimalism for a fancier, retro style. 

From Rolling Stoke UK:

Pre-Raphaelite art is just something I'm never getting away from. I think it's because I've got an old-timey face and I don't really suit modern clothes. I think I look like a haunted painting most of the time.

Oh, there's that word haunted again. Florence does seem to resemble Elizabeth Siddal, an art student and a frequent model for the Pre-Raphaelites. The Tate Museum described Elizabeth as being boyish and not beautiful by Victorian standards. Her long red hair and unique appearance caught the attention of the Pre-Raphaelites and she was featured in some of their most iconic works, including Ophelia by John Everett Millais. Fans and journalists have found easy connections between these artists and Florence's styling and there's even an Insta page dedicated to the similarities between Florence and their work, almost exclusively featuring Elizabeth Siddal. 

Florence has also spoken about other artists and how they've directly inspired her work, particularly her album covers, which were all photographed by Tom Beard. 

From Crown Publishing Group:

We would become fixated on certain groups of artists and explore them. It was like our own art college; we were both art college dropouts but we found a way to still learn about artists and explore them through making record covers. The first album was the Pre-Raphalites, the second we were very into Erté and Klimt and Tamaradin and Peka; the fourth we were looking at James Turrell.

Although she makes popular music, Florence is constantly asking her fans to dig deeper and immerse themselves in her inner world, which has been heavily shaped by literature, music, religion and art from bygone eras. She told Viva magazine that some of her first loves were Victorian ghosts, superheroes and mermaids. She said:

I was sensitive and shy, and felt uncomfortable in myself when I was a kid, so I almost wonder if in this thing that I’ve created, I’ve kind of become my childhood imagination of myself.

With a massive, global audience, Florence also seems to see herself as a conduit who brings aspects of less accessible art forms - like fine art and books - to the masses, people who may not have the time, the money, the education or close proximity to cultural centers like London and therefore can't or don't experience art.

Mental Illness, Faith + Redemption 

Hunger, sadness and regret are persistent themes in Florence + the Machine's lyrics and the general tenor of their music is often remorseful underneath all the jubilant clanging and sonic roughhousing.

Florence styles herself as a tortured artist who fights with the same demons that have doomed many young women before her: anxiety, disordered eating, drugs, and alcohol. Through her sweet serenades of self-destruction and energetic odes to discovering the devil while looking for heaven, though, Florence sets herself apart with unique additions to the sad girl canon that actually feel — on the surface at least — happy! 

Take "Free," from her latest album Dance Fever. This grim tale of unmedicated, unruly anxiety feels more like an anthem than a cry for help.

From “Free” | Florence + the Machine (Island Records, 2021):

I'm always running from something

I push it back, but it keeps on coming

And being clever never got me very far

Because it's all in my head 

And "You're too sensitive", they said

I said, "Okay, but let's discuss this at the hospital"

Or even a song like “Hunger,” from the band's 2018 release High as Hope. Florence's register is more sultry and appropriate for the subject matter, but rousing hooks distract from the darkness of these lyrics, which include disordered eating, drug abuse and loneliness.

From “Hunger” |  Florence + the Machine (Island Records, 2018):

I thought that love was in the drugs

But the more I took, the more it took away

And I could never get enough

On the flip side, while the themes are dark and melancholic, Florence isn't a wallower, lyrically. Whether within the span of a verse, a track, or an entire album, her never-ending hopefulness will come around and wipe the tears away — which is a tendency that I feel must be inspired by her Christian upbringing and love of mythology and fairy tales.

Even as sorrow, hunger, and anxiety front much of Florence's tracks, an undercurrent of hope, forgiveness and regret typically arrives soon after, making those towering and euphoric vocals feel that much more deserved after where we've journeyed in any given song.

These themes aren't passing whims for the lyricist, either— she consistently digs in her heels and explores the darker terrain of her psyche, her dreams and her behavior in every album the band has produced. It's no wonder then, that Florence often turns to fantasy and myths to help her understand her feelings, her actions, and the consequences of them. 

We've talked about the Christian mythology that permeates some of her most famous songs, but she also draws from other myths and fairy tales to describe how she experiences anxiety, sorrow, and even ambition. In that Viva interview, she also said that:

The reason I like fairy tales is that they’re a way to understand things that are unexplainable and random and chaos. It’s a way to understand the human condition in a way that makes sense to me.

This fondness for myth and fairy tales no doubt shows up in Florence's search for forgiveness and redemption in her work. In 2018, she released a remorseful song named after her sister Grace.

From “Grace” | Florence + the Machine (Island Records, 2018): 

And you, you were the one I treated the worst

Only because you loved me the most

We haven't spoken in a long time

I think about it sometimes

I don't know who I was back then

And I hope on hope

I would never treat anyone like that again

Whether Florence is crooning about demons, anxiety, or asking her sister for forgiveness, faith seems to underpin the singer's deepest confessions and beliefs. Although divorced from the Catholicism that raised her and not wed to any sect you could check on a Census form, Florence is obviously strongly guided by her faith, which seems to have been honed by intense studies of the arts and reverence for the power of music. 

And Florence's message around mental illness, faith and redemption doesn't seem to be that different from how she uses Catholic messaging and iconography in her work. For Florence, hope and love are fully present and fully valid currencies with which even the darkest demons may be reformed. 

Florence lures us in with her dizzying world of inspiration that forms cohesive narratives through the band's music, videos, and costumes. These three core themes that Florence has interrogated since the start of her career seem disparate at first glance but lay perfectly in place across this powerhouse musician like a papal frock.

Thank you so much for reading. If you’d prefer to watch the video essay, click the link below. I hope you'll subscribe and I hope to see you in the comments! 

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