At the right time and in the right context, everything starts to make sense. I remember how Bill Drummond (does anyone remember Bill Drummond?) spoke about the music of The Libertines. At first, it seemed unremarkable. Until one day he heard Pete Doherty play an acoustic set somewhere in the streets of London. And all of a sudden - the music came alive. The tunes stuck their heads out of indie-pop cliches and "What a Waster" sounded like the anthem of the decade.
Last year, it was Saint Etienne whose music started to speak to me in ways that it had not in the past. This year, it is Florence + The Machine. It could be the right setting or it could be Florence Welch's dress in the video clip for "Free". Or, rather, some things just happen.
The three-song punch that opens this album, which is Florence + The Machine's fifth, is as good as you are going to get this year. "King" builds up in a way that is both tense and understated before exploding in a brilliant orchestrated chant and a sexualised crackle of Welch's voice. Then comes the gloriously anthemic single "Free" whose mood is the closest thing to Patrick Wolf's "The Magic Position" I have heard in years. How do you follow that? Well, obviously you follow that with an even better song. "Choreomania" is something of a mini-suite, boasting several different sections piling beautifully on top of each other.
Next up is the quieter piece, the sparse and tastefully intoned "Back In Town" (think Lana del Rey, but with musical depth). Next up is "Girls Against God" which mentions being in the basement with Tom Vek and evokes the atmosphere of Neko Case's seminal Fox Confessor album. "Dream Girl Evil" is powerfully soulful and has a memorable chant-like refrain that will stay with you for days. Finally, the first side is rounded off with the brief "Prayer Factory" which still manages to pack a couple of melodic twists into its one-minute length.
Side two is hardly worse, starting as it does with another powerful three-song run where the menacing and groovy "Daffodil" is the strongest highlight. "My Love", while certainly catchy, is more straightforward than charismatic (I prefer the acoustic version from the deluxe version of Dance Fever). Which is why I would rather take the three downtempo songs at the end of the album. The short "Restraint" is, again, filled with huskiness and oomph. Then comes the ballad "The Bomb" which manages to remain intense without compromising on elegance. Finally, "Morning Elvis" may sound like an overly subdued closer but the melody will soon reveal itself as one of the strongest on the album.
What else is left to say, really? In terms of music, Dance Fever is loosened up and unfettered. In terms of its lyrical content, Dance Fever is very personal. Florence Welch presents herself as someone quite smitten with her own image. This is self-mythologising. Showboating, basically. She knows it. She fully embraces it. And she records a lot of great music in the process.
