I don’t listen to Florence and The Machine. But when I ended up with inexpensive nosebleed tickets in the Capital One Arena, I found myself crying right alongside the thousands of millennials wearing flower crowns surrounding me.
Florence and The Machine is a band that I associate with one song: “The Dog Days Are Over.” Outside of that singular song, which I hadn’t listened to outside of my mom’s car as a young kid, I had zero idea they were still releasing music. They sat in the back of my mind alongside The Black Eyed Peas and Imagine Dragons. When they came to DC, I had no intention of seeing them. But my sister was visiting, and my mom pushed us to go as a fun activity to fill one of our nights. And I am so glad she did. Unfortunately, we missed the opener after being turned away at the door as a consequence of trying to bring a small purse into the venue (negligence of the venue’s rules on our part), so I only have comments about the headliner. When we made it in, we immediately realized we were not the target audience of the tour. Everyone around us had on flowy skirts, flower crowns, and seemed to know exactly what they were signing up for. We had dressed up, but were not aware of the theme that was clearly communicated without our knowledge. Everyone seemed friendly, but there were very few people that seemed younger than 30. Which wasn’t a bad thing. Honestly, it made for a super welcoming environment and some fantastic people watching.
The lead singer, Florence Welch, is a presence to behold. She captivated every single person in the arena, us included. We couldn’t take our eyes off her billowing black dress and the way she went from frolicking across the stage to belting into the audience while kneeling in front of them. There were multiple times where I turned to my sister and told her, “I feel like I’m being pulled into a cult.” Something about the combination of her outfit and the way everyone around us was crying and singing felt like a hivemind of emotion. The tour is titled “Everybody Scream.” At first, I was confused about the contrast it posed between the way everyone around us was dressed and the angry tone of the album. But as she sang, I got it. The cathartic nature of her singing and connection to the audience stopped screaming and crying from being a negative thing. Her fans dressed like her fans. They didn’t try to match the energy of a tour that seemed, at face value, to be frustrated and provocative. Rather, they were whimsical and light. They cried, they yelled, they sang along (except for the high notes, which everyone skipped). I was moved by the way everyone seemed so connected to one another.
Welch was accompanied by four backup dancers, who followed her around the stage with jerky, eccentric movements like something out of a well-directed horror movie. They were barely acknowledged by the singer herself until the end of the show when she hugged them all, but they were insanely talented. Welch herself had an amazing stage presence, but the dancers added something to the performance that I didn’t even know I needed. Taking glances at the middle of the stage throughout each song graced me with spinning, crawling, falling, and waltzing from four people who seemed to be just as tied to the music as Welch herself. Watching them was easily one of my favorite parts of the concert.
I’d never seen a show at Capital One Arena before, and because of its size, I didn’t really expect much crowd interaction. I was sorely mistaken. Towards the end of the show, Welch stepped off of the stage and circled around it in its entirety. She took time to hug or hold hands with every single fan at the barricade during her song “Sympathy Magic” while singing “I can take it.” As the fans at the barricade cried and nodded alongside her voice, I found myself crying too. Something about the release that must have come from being seen like that in such a big space was so touching, and I felt for them as they released whatever raw emotions they had been holding in their hearts. When I moved my gaze to the back of the floor, I cried even harder as I watched other fans pair up to dance, each group or individual spinning into their own world. They didn’t care that they were on the outskirts of their favorite band’s general admission. They were releasing their emotions too. The “Everybody Scream” tour was the beautiful mix of feelings that so many people needed it to be, myself and my sister included.
When they finally came onstage for their encore, it was “The Dog Days Are Over.” Welch told us to keep our phones down and stay in the moment, and I didn’t see a single person around me stray from her request. I’m sure it happened, but the auditorium was filled with dancing and singing regardless. She told us to tell whoever we were with that we loved them, and to acknowledge the presence of the people around us. I saw the effect of her words as the people on the floor danced even harder, and the nosebleeds filled with hugs and more crying. My sister and I shared a tight embrace, the nostalgia of a song from our childhood making us both tear up all over again. I had no idea what I was signing up for when I went to see Florence and The Machine, but it definitely exceeded my expectations. I’d love to see them again, and next time I’ll make sure to learn at least a few of the songs. If her fanbase really is a cult, consider me indoctrinated.
