Lungs

About

With one 13-song exhalation, British singer-songwriter Florence Welch unleashed her siren-call of a voice—and announced her arrival as one of Britain’s most singular modern-day talents—on 2009’s <i>Lungs</i>. Though the quirkily named Florence + the Machine was very much of the 2000s and became an instant staple of that era’s UK indie scene, the nature-loving mysticism and wordy lyrics throughout <i>Lungs</i> established Welch as more of a modern-day Fiona Apple or Kate Bush. Though released by a major label, <i>Lungs</i> feels curiously DIY—sounding almost like demos by your favorite local songwriter. But Welch was too talented to be playing in dark bar, and too angelic to be busking in her flowing dresse. The supersized emotions found on <i>Lungs</i> were born from the devastation of a breakup, one that’s examined and explored in often roof-raising alt-pop. “The star, the moon, they have all been blown out/You left me in the dark,” Welch wails like a banshee on the monumental “Cosmic Love.” And on the suspicious “I’m Not Calling You a Liar,” as well as the gothic “Howl,” she steeps in the pain of lost love. Everything about <i>Lungs</i> creates an aesthetic, and a world, that feels witchy, dark, and sometimes unhinged, whether it’s the album’s mythic artwork, or the haunting lyrics on “Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up),” one of its biggest singles (“This is a gift, it comes with a price/Who is the lamb, and who is the knife?”). But <i>Lungs</i> is by no means a strictly ethereal record: There’s the bratty indie-rock of “Kiss With a Fist” and the sonically angular and downright lyrically creepy “Girl With One Eye.” What holds all of <i>Lungs</i> together, though, is a quiet femininity paired with a triumphant attitude when you least expect it. .

via Apple Music

The Clerk says

Start your shelf to read the full take →