Florence + The Machine’s ‘Everybody Scream’ Is a Thrilling Return to Form

It feels almost too perfect that Florence + The Machine released an album called Everybody Scream on Halloween. It is the most Florence move imaginable, leaning into the drama, the mysticism, the ritual of it all. I had a friend who went to her album release show at Pioneer Works in New York City that night, and I was so jealous. After a weekend of listening, it is clear this record is not just a seasonal statement. It is a full-bodied return to form.

It is exactly what you would expect from Florence + The Machine, but that does not make it any less satisfying. For longtime fans, it feels like a reward—the chance to step back into her world for another round of beauty and catharsis. Everybody Scream is Florence Welch doing what she does best: making the dramatic feel deeply human and turning emotion into something physical.

Her sixth studio album feels like a continuation of Dance Fever, holding onto that mystical intensity while reaching for something more classic, I want to say (and I’m sure it has been said): ’70s-rock inspired. Welch is not chasing trends or trying to reinvent herself. She does not need to. She has always existed outside of whatever else is happening in music.

Her collaborators this time push her sound in subtle but exciting ways. Aaron Dessner of The National (who has production credits with Florence-adjacent artists like Taylor Swift and Gracie Abrams), handles most of the production, and his touch is unmistakable. There is that sweeping, melancholic grandeur that turns small moments into something cinematic. “The Old Religion” sounds like it could belong in his universe, with its delicate piano and slow build. Mitski co-writes “Buckle,” one of the album’s highlights—gentle, understated, and quietly devastating. It is an unexpected collaboration that works perfectly.

Danny L Harle, who is known for his work with Charli xcx and Caroline Polachek, adds a different kind of sparkle on the songs “Sympathy Magic” and “Drink Deep.” Known for his hyperpop background, his production here feels lighter and more textured, adding a sense of shimmer without overpowering her. The beginning of “Sympathy Magic” , one of my favorites from the album, is especially striking—moody and pulsing in a way that feels tailor-made for a live set. 

That is the thing about this record: you can imagine the show immediately. Florence’s voice soaring, the band pounding behind her, everyone in the crowd losing it together. The title track, “Everybody Scream,” opens with a rush of energy that makes everything feel larger than life. “One of the Greats” follows with a simple guitar riff that slowly expands into something lush and emotional. And then there is “Witch Dance,” which might be the most Florence + The Machine coded song title imaginable. You can almost see it: drums pounding, hair flying, Florence spinning across the stage like she is conducting the chaos herself.

“Kraken” might be my favorite track on the album. It is haunting but grounded, one of those songs that unfolds slowly and sticks with you long after. The lyric “sometimes my body seems so alien to me, I quiet it down by watching TV” is classic Florence—simple, direct, and cutting in its honesty. “Buckle” carries that same clarity. “Just a buckle on your belt” should not sound heartbreaking, but somehow it does. She has always had a way of making tiny, ordinary details feel massive.

There are softer moments too. “Music By Men” drifts with an almost western strum, co-written with Mark Bowen, guitarist of the British post-punk band Idles, who has recently been composing music for the Darren Aronofsky movie Caught Stealing. “Drink Deep” opens with chimes and layered voices that nod to her early work on Lungs. “You Can Have It All” erupts with her signature power, and “And Love” closes the album on a quieter note. “And love is not what I thought it was,” she sings, and it lands like an exhale.

Everybody Scream feels timeless. It could have come out fifty years ago or five years from now and still feel vital. It is confident, consistent, and unmistakably her. Florence is not chasing reinvention; she is deepening her world, refining it with every record.

The last time I saw Florence live was at Gov Ball in 2019, and it still feels like something sacred. All I can really remember is her barefoot, dancing across the stage while her band absolutely lit the place up. The entire crowd was locked in. Now, several years later, she is heading back on tour, and I already know I will be there. It has been too long, and this new album deserves to be experienced in person.

Everybody Scream is out now.