Florence + The Machine
Lungs

When with your friends on one of those typical restaurant evenings you end up talking about music, phrases like "woman," "voice," and "talent" forcefully emerge in the conversation, bringing to light from personal mnemonic corners always the same high-sounding names that, like it or not, have contributed to creating the history of music. If you add an adjective like "red" to these two words, it's automatic to identify the temporary subject of the conversation as the great Tori Amos.

Well, that time it wasn't like that. Because that evening the topic wasn't Tori... it was Florence Welch. A name that at first impact said nothing to me, until one of my friends hummed the chorus of "The Dog Days Are Over" in my ear... and that's when a flash happened. The fragments of memory in my head reassembled, and the image of the MTV Video Music Awards appeared to me... Of a fascinating woman with red hair, very white skin, and a warm, seductive, and incredibly charismatic voice. Damn, I knew who she was!!

And when they asked me what I thought, I could only rely on that wonderful performance, wondering why all my previous commitments had prevented me from delving into everything that voice had sent soaring to the sky until then. And there I was, the day after at the store, with Florence's CD in hand, and shortly after with headphones in my ears....

And welcoming me immediately at the gates of "Lungs" is the song to which I owe my, albeit delayed, imprinting: "The Dog Days Are Over". The rhythm is exceptional, that incessant beat that insinuates itself into my head along with the sound of the Ukulele and harps drags me out of the room... I see myself celebrating in a clearing, dancing and clapping my hands, covered in flower garlands... I don't know what this frenzy is, but it carries me away and I am glad to be its victim because as Florence shouts, the hard days are over, over!

But the festive game that La Rossa allowed me to attend isn't over, because the mechanism repeats with the next "Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up)", which has a more dreamy and enchanting introduction to which powerful background choirs are added, almost veering the authorial line towards the Celtic, preparing me to find myself among fairies and sprites... and then comes the chorus, and it's a party again, even though as her voice loves to shout at us, "Who is the lamb and who the knife?"

And when I think the album is a continuous alternation of these games, of almost Woodstock-style festive atmospheres, La Rossa proves me wrong, bringing out one after another small gems that each refer to different yet complementary styles to those she had proposed a few notes before. "Lungs" is indeed a splendid mix of genres that, although it invents nothing new, manages to be fresh, fulfilling, and often leaves one stunned. Indeed, if the first two tracks, as well as the last, the nevertheless remarkable "You've Got Alone", can be enclosed within the parentheses that delimit the pop realm, albeit authorial and of very fine workmanship, the subsequent tracks set aside ethereal and joyful atmospheres, giving space to anger, insecurity, sadness, and restlessness. Indeed, it is certainly the indie rock component that is almost predominant within this work, although it does not emerge excessively, sometimes hiding in the background to the soundscapes and musical panoramas we encounter, it is impossible not to notice how it gradually enriches itself with references to folk, soul, and even gospel, in musical passages that, if listened to carefully, reveal an absolutely masterful compositional richness. Notable is indeed the splendid blues introduction of "Girl With One", where Florence's interpretation is absolutely SENSATIONAL, the desperate screams of "Drumming Songs" together with her gothic choirs that envelop you in musical textures of emotional intensity that is hard to describe in words, the choleric rock of "Kiss With a Fist", the rarefied musical carpet of "Cosmic Love" or the dark pace of the wonderful "Blinding".

The glue being her voice, this wonderful gift that Florence found between her lungs to which she rightly pays tribute by giving the album its title. A warm and enveloping instrument, but one that the young woman manages to modulate in an incredible way, sometimes falling into the trap of similarities, risking echoing Kate Bush, Pj Harvey, or Amos in some fleeting moment of this wonderful production. And if we want to talk about production, perhaps here we can actually notice the only real flaw of the album. "Lungs" is in my opinion overly meticulously curated. A voice like Florence's is decidedly more organic, more visceral, and these wonderful arrangements perhaps tend to make it lose a bit of charisma. But it's really a trifle compared to all the wonderful packages this album places under the tree.