Ceremonials by Florence and the Machine – Album Review
by Matt Callard
Not for me, these boardroom histrionics, this force-fed big noise, those occasional dips into nu-folk tinkering, just making sure that each and every last bloody box is ticked.
They make albums for stadiums now, not for the home and the soul, because that’s where the moolah is. These massive, layered, all-encompassing fist pumpers that flatten you in a flat field and compete for the ‘best shared experience’ vote.
“Consumed by a desire to create something so epic”
Coldplay, U2, Kasabian, Arcade Fire, Snow Patrol – even poor old Kaiser Chiefs give it a go. But only Elbow manage to pull something connected and, yes, communal from the aural overload.
Course, Florence and the Machine is the worst offender. Annie Lennox-lite (yes, that bad) and totally consumed by a desire to create something so epic, so skyscrapingly bombastic, that Ceremonials simply does not take a single breath before dying, naturally, and only seconds before the listener does, from exhaustion.