Saturday, March 17, 2012

Florence + The Machine, Manchester Arena 15th March 2012 8/10

I love being close enough to a performer to see their body language, the expressions on their face, and instrumental technique. It’s therefore rare for me to attend an arena show: this is only my third (excluding festivals). However, Florence + The Machine has special significance for me: it was the second non-classical act I heard and fell in love with, and I’ve been waiting to see them live ever since. I therefore found myself amongst more than 20,000 fellow music Mancunians, a considerable distance from the stage, trading intimacy for the atmosphere of being part of a powerful, shared experience.

The night started with Spector, a 5 piece indie rock band from London, whose first album is due out next month. Their front man, Fred MacPherson, is an experienced musician, and he commanded the stage confidently, perhaps too much so when he berated audience members for checking social networks during the performance. Their music certainly captured my attention: it was rock with synths, modelled on The Strokes. They were nominated for the BBC Sound of 2012 Poll, and I’m keen to hear them in closer quarters, without the inevitable distractions inherent in watching a support act in a huge venue. I’m afraid I can’t be as positive about the other opener, The Horrors, who totally failed to engage with me emotionally. Many critics disagree: their third album Skying was well received in the UK and won best album prize in the 2012 NME Awards.

Florence opened in spectacular fashion with Only If a Night, from Ceremonials. I prefer the quirky style of Lungs, but her more mainstream second album was surely conceived for a stadium experience. I was reminded of opera, since this was a highly visual show, with a dramatic and beautiful art deco stage set. There was almost an orchestra on stage too: a string section, two keyboard players, guitarist, harpist, and horns (although not the gospel choir she’s adding for her MTV Unplugged album due in April). By far the most prominent part of the instrumental mix were the tribal drums, though, attacked with huge energy. Above all though, her vocals soared, daring in their range, and with staggering power.

The operatic analogy shouldn’t be stretched too far though: her control of pitch wouldn’t be tolerated by the classical establishment. I’ve heard technically concerning live Florence performances; here Between Two Lungs was way off key, but I was sufficiently caught up in the occasion not to be troubled by her tuning elsewhere (I was once a cellist, so I’m fussy about intonation). It also seemed remarkable that she could combine her vocal agility with vigorous, yet graceful dancing across the stage. I was reminded of Zola Jesus’ stagecraft in her carefully choreographed methods of engaging with the vast audience, and Florence too is an intellectual who has chosen to engage with a popular audience. She can’t rival Adele for audience banter (or indeed vocal richness). However, she’s the daughter of a Harvard educated professor of Renaissance Studies, and her work has literary associations, as well as a certain British eccentricity.

My overwhelming impression of this show is one of palpable joy in Florence’s performance style, bounding acrobatically around stage with a huge smile (visible on the video screens either side of the stage). Yet, her earlier material especially appeals to be because of its darkness and depth. After attending one of her mother’s lectures as a teenager she said: "I aspire to something like that but with music. I hope that my music has some of the big themes — sex, death, love, violence — that will still be part of the human story in 200 years' time." Florence has seen darkness in her life, facing depression, the suicide of her grandmother when she was 14, and two relation breakups with her former partner. This show forms part of a two year Ceremonials world tour, and happily I have will be seeing it at Reading and Coachella Festivals too this year. Admittedly the music can be bombastic, but it was a grand occasion to rival the likes of Verdi’s Aida. By Never Let Me Go and No Light No Light which closed the 16 strong set, the audience was euphoric, and went away having experienced a transformative piece of art.

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