\\All the gods have been domesticated. And Heaven is now overrated. And the churches, they all closed their doors. But you can take your complaints straight to the Lord.//
Candid in detail, the ethereal fifth album from Florence Welsh and company, discuss wild trepidation and strike curiosity – as she draws her influence from all those horror films she watched through lockdown.
Charting a path from High Hopes in 2018, Dance Fever is a quell of horrors, facing death in the face and learning to live with it. All the while, it still keeps the bright buoyancy and sparkles of hope that Florence does so so well album to album. Simply put, it’s mysteriously beautiful music and its Florence back to her best. Be it devilish worshippings or wishing to become a vampire..
“A fairytale in fourteen songs”: A matured and seasoned singer, professional in voice and quality, Dance Fever reminds us all that Florence is one of the most exciting artist of our generation.
Like the majority of Florence’s work, the album is close to a perfect synopsis of inward struggling, novelty escapisms and feeling alone in a world stricken with sickness. Welsh – at perhaps her most poignant lyrically – contorts and connives with herself on Dance Fever, as she plays hard ball with her own public image – most grand and alive prior to the pandemic – but now when left alone to her own demons, she questions the very morality of making it through at all.
King to Queen: Monarchy of Tracks //
Despite Choreomonia being squashed in-between in the pre-single majesties of King and Free, it can be seen more as the record’s title track, since it was named directly from a dancing plague that took place in Europe during the middle ages. Ergo, dance fever. The uncountable bouts of dance madness often led to insanity and frenzied death in an exhaustive state. Florence makes a direct relation to this dance fever about the irrationality of her panic attacks, almost as if she has to keep dancing to simply stay alive and keep going.
This self-interrogation battle is present more, as she rasps at the end of Kate Bush- a Capella inspired Heaven Is Here – “Every song I wrote became an escape rope tied around my neck to pull me up to heaven.”
Despite the weepings of dancing being this dangerous drug, Free measures up as a frenetic impulse of wanting it more when consumed – no matter the cost. She contemplates in her luxuriant choral swanning Free, as she questions again, “Is this how it is?/Is this how it’s always been?/To exist in the face of suffering and death/And somehow keep singing?”
The catharsis theme dabbled throughout the album is not just on the thematics of dying gracefully to your own dancing feet. No, but it also tips into being a female and the compromises it comes with it. The opener of King is very much bolshy-classic Welsh + Machine as the flourishes of harp enchant us into an argument of discovering if motherhood can work alongside her artistic mythology.
A worthy moment to simply be in the presence of new music in Florence, her triumphant return has been too long a wait as this unsung (or sung) heroine dazzles us with something that leaves Lungs utterly breathless.