There are few musicians with such revealing lives as Florence Welch: she’s a performer who always seems to live through her craft, laying her very soul bare via each subsequent release. Florence + The Machine should obviously need no introduction at this point, as they’ve put out hit after hit over the past 15 years. The anthemic choruses of ‘Dog Days Are Over,’ ‘You’ve Got The Love’ and ‘Shake It Out’ dominated the radio waves in their day, though the band’s music has always run much deeper (and darker) than those standouts might suggest. New record ‘Everybody Scream’ is a haunting meditation on love and purpose, caught in the midst of a worrying health scare— that drama permeates throughout the album, arguably making this the most daring addition to the Florence + The Machine catalogue to date.

The ectopic pregnancy Welch suffered in 2023 hangs over ‘Everybody Scream,’ like a disturbing spectre at the corner of the soundscape: the record was released on Halloween, and carries the darkness to match. The opening title track goes all in on the theatrics, stepping confidently into a grimy bass-driven arrangement, full of the echoing cries and pronounced vocal harmonies you’d expect from a song about performance itself. The sixth Florence + The Machine record sees Welch reflecting on her own art, like her brush with death has led her right back into the spotlight: such a concept requires a musical balance of unease and confidence, and it’s a tightrope the band walk effortlessly. ‘Everybody Scream’ houses a vast array of musical styles, presenting some of the group’s softest and prettiest material, as well as their most frightening— the linchpin that holds this collection of tunes together is the defining experience of our leading woman, who’s dominating presence consumes every song she touches.

“I will come to you in the evening, ragged and reeling

Shaking my gold like a tambourine

A bouquet of brambles, all twisted and tangled

I'll make you sing for me, I'll make you scream”

It should come as no surprise that Florence + The Machine continue to dial in some of the most lush, evocative soundscapes in the genre in 2025: ‘Everybody Scream’ is often not quite as ornate as 2022’s ‘Dance Fever,’ but is no less stupendous. The crackling guitar that presides over ‘One of the Greats’ feels weary, mirroring Welch’s frustrations at the state of the music industry— the way the track builds to include blown out drum hits and climactic string swells is nothing short of miraculous, and we’re only on the second track of the album! Given how powerful of a vocalist Welch is (and believe us when we say she isn’t holding back this time around), it’s no surprise to hear just how massive ‘Everybody Scream’ can sound. ‘Sympathy Magic’ is unfathomably dynamic, covering a hell of a lot of ground between its lush, folksy intro and the pounding synths that close out the cut— ‘Kraken’ pulls off a very similar trick, with the refrains of “do you see me now” almost becoming lost in a sea of vocal layers and triumphant chord changes

You thought we were done praising the record’s bombast? Though Florence + The Machine have always been exceedingly dramatic performers, their new album sees them further off the chain than ever before. ‘The Old Religion’ transitions from warm piano chords into a full orchestral hurricane, in which Welch’s phenomenal singing becomes just another instrument added to the fray: this song may contain some of the best melody writing in the band’s entire catalogue, with many of its contenders also hailing from this same album. ‘Everybody Scream’ is very careful not to trample on the tender, vulnerable emotions at its core in service of these climactic explosions— rather, each one feels like a natural exploration of the inner turmoil being navigated here. This is an album with ‘performance’ as a central theme, making it all the more fitting that Welch and company let loose the full fury of their sound. The thunderous core of ‘You Can Have It All,’ which combines every sound in the Machine’s wheelhouse for one all-consuming blast of volume and intensity, is just about as pivotal and satisfying and anything they’ve ever put together.

‘Intensity’ is a fitting word, as even the quietest moments of ‘Everybody Scream’ carry an underlying heart to them: the record always sounds on the edge of another emotional eruption, which only makes its restraint all the more powerful. ‘Buckle’ is about as by-the-numbers of a love song as you’ve ever heard, but its acoustic guitars and ascending melodies capture a subtle sorrow that draws untold meaning from an otherwise simple tune. For all we’ve praised Florence + The Machine for their theatrical gravitas, perhaps the most interesting passage of the record is its final one, where the cautious optimism of “peace is coming” turns ‘And Love’ into a chilling closer for the project— comparisons to Radiohead’s ‘Motion Picture Soundtrack’ feel inevitable, and that is no complaint. It takes a special kind of band to pull off the meditative melodies of ‘Drink Deep,’ which fully commits to its ritualistic style. Florence + The Machine have attempted similar concepts in the past, such as on a cut like ‘Seven Devils,’ but this rendition feels better integrated into the surrounding record than ever: Welch’s introspection, where she likens performance to a sacrifice of some kind, is chilling.

“My eyes began to hollow

My skin began to fade

What I thought was a night was a thousand years

What I thought was a sip was a thousand tears

But still, they said, ‘drink deep’”

Now, let us not imply that ‘Everybody Screams’ is some perfect record: the band have always had a small issue with trimming the fat from their albums, and this is no exception. The raspy breathing and plucked strings of ‘Witch Dance’ are a wonderful tone-setter that might just give you goosebumps: if anything, the cut feels like it deserved a little more time in the oven, just to better connect those ideas to the ballad at the track’s core. We’d also be remiss to skip over cuts like ‘Perfume and Milk’ and ‘Music by Men,’ which feel underdeveloped and inessential compared to the stunning work that surrounds them— the latter of these is certainly the lowlight, with Welch’s barbed comments at her male contemporaries feeling somewhat unwarranted. Even if none of these songs are bad, or even that mediocre, it’s elsewhere that the album really excels.

Welch perfectly sums up our feelings on ‘Everybody Screams’ on ‘The Old Religion’ when she sings, “it’s your troubled hero, back for season six: when it's at its darkest, it's my favourite bit.” The new record features some of the most powerful and evocative songwriting and arrangement in the entire Florence + The Machine catalogue, blowing us away with the sheer weight of emotion on ‘Buckle,’ ‘Kraken’ and ‘You Can Have It All.’ Even besides that though, this feels like a second-coming for Welch, who explores the interplay between her personal and public lives in shocking poetic detail here. Even a little bloated as it is, this may be the greatest release from the band yet: we are screaming, and you should be too.