I Heart Florence
I’ve become obsessed with Florence + the Machine. Not really the Machine, just Florence. Florence Welch. For those of you dear readers who may not know her, she’s the redhead from England with the most AMAZING voice. She pretty much had me at the hello of the song “Heavy in Your Arms”. I have all of her music on my ipod and for the past couple of months, that’s all I listen to. I mean, how can you not think that someone who comes up with lyrics that include “my love’s an iron ball, wrapped around your ankles, over the waterfall” worthy of adoration?
I’ve gone through obsessive periods like this in the past, where I’m intensely into one album for an extended period of time (yes, they used to be called albums in the medieval times of the 1970’s). The Doobie Brothers, Earth Wind and Fire, The Isley Brothers. Then it was the classical years of piano and cello: Glenn Gould and his Bach, anything by Beethoven, lots of Brahms, Elgar’s Nimrod, Jacqueline du Pre. Talk about music worms…at least they were of pretty high quality.
I know all of this comes from my absolutely impossible fantasy of being a lead singer in a band. I know it will never come true, due to the fact that I am completely tone deaf. I have the worst singing voice ever. Honestly, Jan Terri could probably take me in a sing-off. A fantasy can’t recover from the looks of disgust on the faces of your four young children trapped in the car with you while you belt out Journey’s “Open Arms” along with the radio. When your three year old shouts “Mommy, please stop! Please make it stop now”! when you sing, it’s time for a new dream.
The band fantasy is on life support and the message to stop singing in public has been received. Now, I do all of my singing in secret, in the dark, stealthily. I take Florence along and sing in full voice on my nightly walks in the neighborhood. She gets me up the hill and around the blocks. I always end the walk with her song “Spectrum” and include some interpretive dancing to add to my workout. I come home with a bit of a glow, still in my “pretend I’m Florence” mode for a few minutes. It lasts until someone tells me we’re out of milk and I forgot to send in the field trip permission slip. Sigh…
(Side note: This is how every X Factor episode should go. Florence kicking ass and taking names. And maybe some of Paula’s drugged up seat-dance/clapping. Oh wait, she was fired…)
My family is quite aware of this obsession and surprised me with tickets to a Florence + the Machine concert next month. The entire family is going and I’m really excited about it! I’ve only been to orchestra concerts and I don’t quite know what to expect. I’ve got my Mom jeans, sensible shoes, sweater set, fanny pack and helmet hair/mall bangs ready to go. I plan to pre-function with a couple of glasses of a good chardonnay and I’m hoping to get into something the youngsters call a “mosh pit” and see what that’s all about. The kids have already told me that they won’t stand anywhere near me because they know I’m going to sing along, loudly. Why wouldn’t I? I know all the lyrics!
Florence, ready or not, here I come!