★★★★☆

It’s no surprise that Florence + The Machine’s Everybody Scream was released on Halloween this year—the album delivers frontwoman Florence Welch’s signature strange, witchy imagery and cathartic themes taken to a new level. But what marks this release is its biographical significance. Everybody Scream is a powerful emotional proclamation of grief and survival, and the brutal reflection that follows.

Created with the help of big names like Mitski and The National’s Aaron Dessner, the album explores Welch’s traumatic experience undergoing life-saving surgery due to an ectopic pregnancy in 2023.

Welch was devastated and gathering the strength to continue performing the festival shows after her miscarriage, and then learned that the fetus had developed in her fallopian tube, which ruptured and caused internal bleeding as she performed on stage.

“The closest I came to making life was the closest I came to death,” Welch told​​ The Guardian.

“And I felt like I had stepped through this door, and it was just full of women, screaming.”

The album opens with just that. In the first few seconds of its titular song, “Everybody Scream,” a chorus of haunting female vocals, almost resembling that of a coven, steadily fades in and is soon joined by wretched screams.

“Everybody dance (yeah) / Everybody sing (ah) / Everybody move (hey) / Everybody scream (ah!),” the voices chant.

Welch attempts to convey the unchained energy of her concerts, at which she leaves her all on the stage. Her tone is commanding, but there’s an undertone of futility: She will never reach perfection in her artistry.

Through deep and poetic lyrics, Welch crafts her own universe, recalling elements of dark mysticism. She exceeds her previous work with this album, embracing an even more eccentric creative vision.

In “Buckle,” Welch strips it back. Accompanied by simple, grounding guitar strums, Welch lets her beautifully and achingly raw lyricism shine through in a confession to a lover.

“‘Cause I’m stupid and I’m damaged, and you’re a disaster / When you walk into the room, oh, none of it matters,” she proclaims.

“Buckle” features a more conventional sound for Florence + The Machine, with a catchy chorus and a strong bridge. It highlights Welch’s strengths in a more accessible format.

“Old for this / I should be over it / I’m much too old for this / But I’m not over it,” sings Welch.

Her heart leaps out at the crest of the song.

In contrast, Welch produces a flood of sound in “You Can Have It All,” which could be considered the precipice of the album. All the topics of grief, inadequacy, and pain that were already touched on explode in Welch’s vocals through the use of intense repetition.

Using sophisticated and compelling storytelling as her tool, Welch narrates her unraveling after almost losing her life and losing her chance at motherhood.    

“Dug a hole in the garden and buried a scream / And from it grew a bright red tree / Shining with jagged leaves / And when the wind blows, you can hear it,” sings Welch. 

Her agony is palpable in the potent metaphors and images.

Everybody Scream is undoubtedly a feat of strength and struggle. In her most intimate work yet, Welch finds a place for herself in the world after enduring an unimaginably heartbreaking experience. The result: fierce vulnerability. 

It’s not for everybody—Everybody Scream departs from the bright, whimsical, and slightly nostalgic sound of Florence + The Machine hits like “Dog Days Are Over” or “Shake It Out.”

But it’s an album worth listening to. Through Everybody Scream, Welch finds supernatural power in the darkest pain. And it’s a real treat to witness.