The process of deconstruction – of values, of style, of established forms, of any number of aesthetics – can be a very salacious thing when done well and with a bit of foresight. Simply ripping shit up arbitrarily before gluing it back together and presenting it with a new coat of paint (see Fluxus art) can at least hold a passing interest because it re-contextualizes the mundane and can be at least momentarily thought provoking, but more lasting impressions can be made by just omitting a key implement and thus forcing more focus be placed on the pieces that are there but may have been previously overshadowed by that now-omitted portion. Such is the design by which Florence + the Machine operates on its debut album, Lungs; it seeks to resurrect the all-soul ghosts of rock majesty – think Linda Perry, Edie Brickell and Sarah McLachlan – and faithfully reproduces songs in the forms those singers made famous, except without the thick rhythm and riff guitars so integral to driving those sounds over the top. Those open gaps where the guitars would go are filled with myriad unusual (in a pop or rock context) textural trappings like piano flourishes, additional percussive playfulness, accentuated and abstract string passages and multi-layered vocals so, instead of the biggest girlie rock album this decade has ever seen, Lungs takes a more dramatic and theatrical stance that's still propulsive, but adheres to none of the conventions that one would expect.
With no rockist dynamics to be found, singer Florence Welch uses other ideas to ensure that these thirteen tracks get inextricably lodged in the minds of listeners. She uses that great, big, earth-quaking voice to stretch every vowel in her lyric sheets with such unique pitch control and power that it ensures listeners stay hypnotized by their headphones and, with that unusual instrumentation behind her, plays the earthy foil to her own orchestrated styling. Such is the way that the first half of the record progresses and it is both unique and captivating between those aforementioned foils, but just to make sure she's clear that all of this is wilful and not a necessity, the Machine shifts gears midstream.
Seemingly for no reason at all (this is not a complaint though), both band and singer revert to rock n' roll conventions for “Howl,” “Kiss With A Fist” and the really cool rockabilly of “Girl With One Eye” just to show they can and, while it's such a simple device to use, but it successfully alters the perception of every song from that point forward so they feel like a set of new rock anthems even if they don't rely on any of the established rules of genre to do so. Re-contextualized as they are, songs like the taut and sinewy “Between Two Lungs,” the inverse electronica of “Cosmic Love” and the sun shower vibes of “Hurricane Drunk” project themselves as unlikely and eerie but undeniable pop anthems of the sort that Bjork might try, but are but are done so well here that she'd have to ask Florence + the Machine for permission to even come close to this.
Artist:
florenceandthemachine.net/
www.myspace.com/florenceandthemachine
Album:
Lungs comes out on October 20, 2009. Pre-order it here on Amazon .
