By a strange coincidence, the albums I’ve acquired lately are all by the British (and Irish) female artists and feature moody black-and-white cover photos. They are however nothing alike musically.
Florence + The Machine – How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful
Every time an artist I really like releases a new album my reaction is half excitement, half trepidation – what if it’s no good? Luckily it’s three for three so far for Florence. The reviews I’ve read billed this as a more subdued, intimate offering, and while that’s somewhat true it only really feels reigned in by comparison to Ceremonials, where the melodrama and bombast were cranked up to 11. That album remains my favourite, but a slight change in direction is a smart move, there’re only so many tribal drums and viking warrior vocals you can do before it becomes repetitive. While for me the new album doesn’t have an individual standout track like Rabbit Heart or What The Water Gave Me, the songs are all strong and Florence’s voice is still marvellous, with a few of the songs displaying a new delicacy. It’s a damn shame I’ll be missing out on her live shows this time around.
I’m only 35 and with luck I’m only halfway or less into my lifespan, but the way time just flies by is sure unnerving sometimes.
I should have had this blog years ago, when I was buying up to five albums a week sometimes and my CD collection ballooned over 900. Since then, I cut down my collection by about a third, and got much more selective about my purchases. By a coincidence, the last two I got are both by Australian artists.
Back in the era of BM (Before Mortgage), I would attend up to 15 live gigs in a year. Ah the days when I thought nothing of forking out $80 to see a band I only mildly liked. And yet somehow I never got to see Peaches even though I’ve been a big fan since the first album. I’ve corrected that wrong on Friday by catching her live show at The Hi-Fi in the city.
yggdrasille.com 