Florence Welch, charismatic voice and soul of Florence + the Machine, met with Apple Music's Zane Lowe for an intimate interview on the occasion of the release of the new album “Everybody Scream“the sixth chapter of the band's career, out on October 31st.
In the dialogue, the British artist spoke about herself with rare sincerity, revealing the emotional and spiritual journey that accompanied the writing of the album. Between references to mysticism, dreamlike visions and a profound comparison with the occult, Everybody Scream for Welch it becomes not only an artistic exercise, but a true healing rite: a way to transform pain into creative energy and find, once again, one's voice between light and darkness.
THE INTERVIEW
I think there was an urgency behind this record. It came out of me like a furious explosion. And it's one of those albums that, if I hadn't put it out now, it would never have come out, because the way I was feeling is so specific to this moment. This record exploded out of me, and it was born almost as a survival mechanism.
As with all records, there's always that period where you think you're never going to finish it, or you're not going to find the right person to work with, or the producer you had in mind isn't available, and then you think, “Oh God, now who…”
And you find yourself in the middle of a whole infrastructure, with someone else…
Exact. And then you think the record will never happen. And someone would say, “Well, we can postpone it.” But I was like, “No, not this one. Either it comes out now or it never comes out. In a few years I won't feel like this anymore.” So there was really a ferocity to this project. I did it almost in a kind of fog. I think I was still processing what had happened to me, and I had a level of PTSD where, when the record was finished, I found myself thinking, “Wait, what just happened?”
Florence Welch says she entered the studio with the songs already written
Some of them I wrote right in the studio, but yeah, I usually come in with a lot of words. I feel strange if I go into the studio without lyrics. Usually what pushes me to record is the fact that I have a song already written. “One of the Greats,” for example, was a very long poem that I started writing on tour. I had also started sharing a notes file with Mark Bowen from Idles, and we started adding things there. I had “One of the Greats”, “Kraken”, “Buckle” floating around for a while, but “Everybody Scream” was still missing – I just had the title. So I wrote: “Florence + The Machine, Everybody Scream — song coming soon.” I always tend to start from words. Sometimes, however, this can be difficult, because the structure is already so defined that finding the right sound becomes complicated. You find yourself saying, “Okay, the song is ready… but hell, what does it sound like?”
It fascinates me a lot to see those who start from the sound, those who sing meaningless phrases to find the melody. I rarely do it — maybe I've done it once or twice in my entire career. There's usually a story, or a poem that has taken shape, and that's what I bring into the studio. And then, with the music, you have to build the film, create with the sounds the image of what the song is telling.
You said that “One of the Greats” began as a poem while you were on tour. It's an ironic, sharp, rebellious and vulnerable song at the same time — a stream of consciousness that…
An angry stream of consciousness.
Like, “F*** you, f*** you, I'm awesome — but maybe not awesome enough, how can I be?” It's brilliant.
Yes, “hey, why don't you like me?”
Exact! So, what was happening on that tour to make you feel that mixture of insecurity and defiance?
I think the song sums it up well. It's a song that continually self-sabotages. She says “I'm this, I'm that,” and she talks about that cycle of “I'm the best, I'm the worst, I'm the best…” — which is typical of the creative process.
I write a lot on tour, because I like to write when I'm on the move or when I'm daydreaming, in my downtime. I was thinking about “greatness”, and the price it entails. After each album I say to myself: “With this I will be satisfied, this time it will be fine.” And it never happens. Then I reflect on the cost of greatness — the cost to my sanity, to my life, and to the ones I might have had. It's a song about the brutality of ambition, about the violence of the pursuit of greatness: about what you inflict on yourself and those who love you to get there. Every interaction, every moment becomes material for a song. You miss out on familiar moments, and it feels like a never-ending race. Every time you forget how difficult it is, yet after every tour you think: “I'll do it again, and this time it'll be the right one, I'll be happy.”
When you're young and no one takes you seriously, you don't think it's because you're a young woman — you think it's your fault, that you're annoying, that you're too much. And it hurts, especially at first.
Florence Welch tells Apple Music how writing “Everybody Scream” healed her and helped her connect with new audiences
You can't help but absorb the feeling that you're not good enough, or that there's something wrong with you because you're not everyone's taste. When you're young, that stuff gets inside you. But I think I had some sort of revelation by simply continuing to create. Seeing people at my concerts, and now seeing young people discovering my songs and really loving them — has healed me from so much shame I felt at the beginning about how “big”, how expressive, how theatrical I was.
Now I understand that my music is for those who feel it is theirs, and for those who don't feel it… that's okay. I don't have to please everyone. Every time I made a record I said, “I don't care what people think.” But I think this is the first time it's really like this, because it cost me a lot. Now I know who it's for, and that's changed.I have always talked about the “prescience” that sometimes exists in writing. There's a line in “King” — “I didn't know my killer would come from inside me” — and it's a song about motherhood. And then, during the tour, I had an ectopic miscarriage on stage. It was dangerous, I was rushed to hospital, I had internal bleeding and I had to be operated on immediately. I didn't want to visit, I just wanted to keep playing. I said, “I'll make it, I've overcome a lot on stage.” But they forced me to go, and as soon as they examined me, they immediately took me to the operating room. Ten days later I was back on stage singing that same song. I don't know how she did it. I was completely in a fog.
Do you think it was a way to deal with the pain? Return to the stage to survive what had happened?
Yes. I didn't want the tour to end like that. There were only two concerts left, and I felt like something had already been taken away from me that I hadn't chosen. I didn't want to miss the end of the tour too. And the stage has always been the only place where I feel I have control and power. An ectopic abortion is extremely painful. Before the concert I still didn't know what was happening to me, I was in terrible pain, but as soon as I got on stage… everything disappeared. The wind was blowing, I was outside, and it's like something carried me forward. It's strange, isn't it? You think that after a trauma like that you would never want to go back on that stage. But for me it was the opposite. It made me feel even more in awe of the power of music, of performance. I knew I would come back. It was my way of closing that circle.
Florence Welch tells Apple Music she explored mysticism, witchcraft and the occult in writing “Everybody Scream”
I felt completely out of control of my body. So I started exploring the themes of witchcraft and mysticism. Everywhere I looked, in birth stories, I found witch legends, popular myths, folklore horror…
And deeply misunderstood women.
Exact. The first women tried as witches were often midwives. Or landowners — women who had something that others wanted. And then they became “witches”. There were also women who simply lived outside the traditional mold.
Like you said, it would be nice if men found their power safely.
Already. (Laughs) “Do you have too many sheep? Witch!”
So yes, I ended up making real herbal cauldrons for myself. I needed natural ways to heal, in addition to medical ones. I was looking for another kind of strength.
Does music help you connect with those who have experienced trauma?
The gift of going through something terrible is that you can hug someone who's been through it too. And this, for me, is the meaning of writing: creating connection, being able to hug someone even if you are not physically with them.
Florence Welch Tells Apple Music About “Perfume and Milk”
It's interesting, because that song came about two years after the event. It was about the healing process, about watching the seasons change, things grow and then return to the earth — and feeling part of that natural cycle. It's a song that says healing is not linear. As I tried to close the album, the emotions suddenly returned: the fear, the trauma.
This record has healed me a lot, even just being in nature. Aaron's (Dessner) studio is in the Hudson Valley, New York. I stayed in a little house on the edge of the woods — I felt like a witch on the edge of the village. Rereading the first few passages, I tried to understand how they related to what I had ultimately become. I wanted to fill the record with flora and fauna, we also looked at the folk songs of the 70s, that magical period when folk and mysticism were intertwined. All of this brought that song to life.
Florence Welch tells Apple Music about working with Mark Bowen and Aaron Dessner
This record started in South London. Bowen and I recorded the first demos there. But it was a fragmented process: he was on tour, so was I. When he left, someone else would come into the studio — Mitski, for example, stopped by, and Ethel Cain also did backing vocals on “One of the Greats.” At a certain point I could no longer see the forest for the trees. “One of the Greats” destroyed us: it was recorded in one take, but it took us three years to finish it.
In a single take?
Yes, voice and guitar together, the first time I sang it.
The riff was aggressive, a real “f*** you”. Bowen started playing and I started singing. The song just happened. We were supposed to rerecord it, but we never did. And it was a nightmare to produce: it changes tempo, slows down, speeds up, it's all wrong. The hue is wild. Someone wrote to me “I love the key change”, and I thought: “That's not wanted!” But those imperfections were the soul of the song. Every time we tried to “fix” it, it lost something.
We needed a magician — and Aaron Dessner was it. He immediately understood the spirit of the project. There was nothing to redo, just to chisel carefully. He and his engineer, Bella, spent days moving the tracks by just a few millimeters. Some sounds were raw, brutal — but they had to stay. The experience had been like this. To some it was a confusing record, but Aaron got it straight away. So I went to his studio for a month to shut it down. And it all made sense.
THE TOUR
3 JULY 2026 – FLORENCE + THE MACHINE | MILAN @IPPODROMO SNAI LA MAURA
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