The Celestial Vaults
Here at the Florence + the Machine Fan Club, we believe your voice and opinions are extremely important in order to connect with the band on a deeper level. The Flows have always been creative (as described by Florence herself) and this is your space to show that in any from you like.
If you would like to submit any content, analyses, artwork, videos or anything else, feel free to fill out the form to the right of this box with your idea.
NOTE: please do not submit requests (e.g. shout-outs, meet-and-greets, transfer of physical gifts etc., as this page is not designed to be a space for these).
Sparking my inspiration with musical solace
After so many years, I finally attended the show (Chicago Sep 7, 2022). It was cathartic since I lost my mother a day to the month before. But then again I found your music as I was on my way to visit my father in the hospital.
Looking for any kind of relief I scanned the radio band and instantly the sound struck me deep. 'No Light, No Light' was playing and I still feel an echo in my chest from the memory of its impact in that desperate moment. Even with my horrible attention span, I waited for the DJ to tell me the name of this band, praying that the signal would not be distorted.
"Florence----Machine"
'Florence... something machine?' 'AH! the signal must have broke just enough not to get the whole thing! I chanted 'Florence Machine, Florence Machine, Florence Machine!
Even with all the fear of death and pain of possible imminent loss; I made a mantra in my mind as I whispered on my lips the source of this ensorcelled sound, medicine of the mind. When I finally had the chance to look it up, my fate was sealed.
I can not believe the breadth of experiences that I have enjoyed and mourned to your music. To never know those who've impacted you so much is such a strange thing, I am grateful to have taken so much in anonymity.
In honor and honesty of what you've given me. I'd like to share a simple piece that came to me thanks to seeing you in person.
inspired by Florence and the Machine
What’s left to make
What’s left to take
What’s left in hold’n my hand…
No need to fake
No need to brake
It’s all been done before hand…
Your in my eyes
Your in my throat
An empty space in our plan
And In every passing car
Around every body’s back
A part of me longs
to see your face again.
No party comes to call
No flowers petals fall
A ghost of my hope
Still strings me along
Still stilted as I dance
Still beckoned to your call
A shadow of romance
Unrequited as I fall
~ Mark Rajca
Hold On To Each Other - Quarantine Creativity
We’ll be using this space of our ‘Celestial Vaults’ page to post some of your most creative pieces as the world social distances to prevent the spread of coronavirus COVID-19 and save lives.
We’ll be using this space of our ‘Celestial Vaults’ page to post some of your most creative pieces as the world social distances to prevent the spread of coronavirus COVID-19 and save lives.
Submit your contributions to florencemachinefanclub@gmail.com
Florence + the machine fan choir (organised by danielle dennis)
Danielle Dennis, one of the admins to the Florence + the Machine Fan Club group on Facebook, put together this awesome fan-tribute, using the messages behind ‘No Choir’ in a fan-only chorus to provide support and strength to all the self-isolated world-wide.
Jean-Pierre Waksman - Sky Full of Song
Composer Jean-Pierre Waksman puts together an international choir singing ‘Sky Full of Song’, in incredible harmony.
David Ross Lawn
Some beautiful piano covers to Shake it Out, Sky Full of Song, Never Let Me Go, and Cosmic Love.
Florence + the Machine in Athens - Fan Review
It was a story which we were part of, all of us, they were the main role, and in the centre of it all, was she. She stole us from the rest of the world, released our souls and led us through a fairytale.
An account of Florence + the Machine playing at the Herodion Theatre, Athens.
Anticipation filled the arena. We waited for the house lights to dim; we waited for Florence and her machine. They took to the stage one by one like ink filling an empty page, like colours filling an empty canvas. It was a beautiful sight. Each of them dressed as if out of a picture book, taking their place by their instruments, as they have done so many times before. Then from the shadows, behind the stage, she emerged, looking like a pixy, a nymph of the forest. At first, we were taken by the beauty and perfection of the characters before us and when the music started, the drums began to beat and the harp began to strum, but when she began to sing, that is when we were taken in. That is when we transported.
(c) Lillie Eiger
It was a story which we were part of, all of us, they were the main role, and in the centre of it all, was she. She stole us from the rest of the world, released our souls and led us through a fairytale. Through her inspiring music, her positive energy. She freed us and united us. We were united by music. United by a passion for movement, a passion for life. It was captivating to watch her twirling and leaping and seamlessly floating across the stage with endless energy as she illustrated the stories she told us, through her mesmerising and haunting voice. It was enchanting to hear her flawless notes and inspiring to listen to her lyrics from the gentleness of Patricia to the power and strength we felt throughout Dog Days.
(c) Lillie Eiger
In the dim light, surrounded by strangers, we were sent on various journeys, from imagining nymphs in peaceful forests to Celtic warriors galloping on horseback. We were a new race created, a race made up of imperfect people led by the spirit of a child. The spirit of a child, dressed in a purple gown, her feet bare and her flaming hair wild. She asked us if we trusted her and we did, we really did. She healed us by sharing her pain and love and joy. With every touch, with every movement and every note, she gave us strength and she shared her energy. Seeing this British band perform live was something that shall never be forgotten by myself or anybody else in that arena.
For one night everyone present was shown real magic, could feel real magic and for one night everyone believed. Thank you for that Florence and the Machine.
By Kalypso Panagiotou
Assad Abderemane - Spending Money on Experiences After Growing Up Poor
We often receive letters about how Florence + the Machine grounds friendships, relationships, and often whole lifestyles. It’s no different for Assad, who, in his essay, details how Florence + the Machine has influenced his life, set amongst a past of “growing up poor”.
A year before I was born, my mom left the Comoro Islands — an archipelago north-west of Madagascar — and half of my family behind to start a better life in France. My early childhood memories are hazy, but I know we lived at the bottom of the pyramid and had to rely on charities to get the bare minimum — accommodation and food.
Growing up poor, I realized money could solely be spent in three ways:
Accommodation and food. The bare minimum for us to survive, and the thing I was trained to be the most content with.
Comfort. A privilege that could go from a new TV, a video-game console or a bigger fridge, all the way to new bedsheets, a sneaky snack at bedtime or a memory card for a PlayStation 2 that I still don’t know how my mom acquired.
Experiences. Abstract. Intangible. A waste of money. From traveling the world to going to the cinema, spending money on things you couldn’t keep or hold felt pointless.
As a penniless first-generation immigrant, I convinced myself that the value of money lied in the stuff we could buy. Poverty crippled me with tunnel vision that allowed my brain only two options — survival and maybe some other stuff. Eventually, the more stuff we had, the happier we were.
My partner and I took the train to Paris to watch Florence and the Machine perform their second to last show of the “High As Hope” tour in Europe. Barefoot in her pale pink lingerie gown, lead singer Florence Welch walks, spins and leaps across the stage with a fierceness matching that of a spirit possession.
People call her many names, but the one I like the most is ‘kindred spirit’ because it implies that the way she connects with her audience is universal and, at the same time, unique from person to person. I see the same kind of seemingly impossible dichotomy when she talks to her audience — her soft voice clashes with her formidable vocal range, as she goes from vehemently singing about toxic masculinity to timidly twiddling her fingers when she tells us to hold the hand of someone we don’t know and say we love them.
All over the place, a concert with her on stage is a ride I wish was endless.
I met my Slovak partner in a French café where she hosted conversations in English with people from all over Europe. Like me, she didn’t grow up in a wealthy family. Unlike me, she traveled a whole lot.
We bonded over our lack of money, and she assured me that she used every means imaginable to travel at the cheapest price for the best experience — from exchange programs to working abroad to voluntary service to sharing a room with an indecent amount of roommates, she did it all. Still, I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that an impoverished person could afford to spend any amount of money on something she didn’t necessarily need to live at the moment. Why spend time and money on something you might only get once? The subscription to once-in-a-lifetime opportunities was simply overpriced.
My partner cries in the middle of Florence’s first song. Her tears join the corners of her smile and I think, “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here. Thank you.”
The relationship my partner has with music is one of a kind. A former flute player in an orchestra, she performed in countless recitals and rapidly became a highly praised musical talent. Knowing this, it’s no surprise that she cries whenever she is deeply moved by music, it’s an expectation. What came as a surprise — which, in hindsight, shouldn’t have — was her passion for attending live performances. She lives and breathes music festivals, and she’d go to many more concerts if she had the means.
I didn’t understand it. My very cynical mindset around this issue was simple: if you can listen to their songs on Spotify, maybe don’t blow over 200 bucks on train tickets and concert tickets to listen to the same songs.
But Florence and the Machine is her favorite band. And I love her. So I did all of that.
Halfway through “Dog Days Are Over”, Florence warns that she’s about to ask us to do something very scary and vulnerable. “Put your phone away,” she says playfully.
I would normally roll my eyes at this, but already enamored by her music and ethereal persona, I smile the smile where you exhale out your nose in understanding and watch as glowing lights dim out in dozens of people’s hands that were filming her performance. She says if we still see someone with their phone out, we need to kindly ask them to put their phone away, “we’re trying to have an experience”.
For the duration of one song, raw and unrecorded, we live in a pocket universe that is just us and experience something so special I don’t want to give it away. This moment is only ours. This moment is mine. And by the end of the song, I realize that this moment has a worth that transcends the realm of stuff.
“I don’t have that kind of money,” my mom tells my 9-year-old sister when she asks her if they could go to a concert, too. Money comes in different forms, and the ones in her possession can’t pay for a concert. They can pay for hundreds of euros’ worth of grocery shopping to feed a family of four while calmly overlooking the bank account overdraft around halfway through the month. They can pay for rent only affordable thanks to government financial aids. Yet here I am, telling her about my concert.
Three generations in the same room, this situation spurs a conversation about the fleeting aspect of money. My mom reminds me of times where I’d overhear a conversation where she’d mention having a certain amount of money and I would shout, “100 euros?! Mom! You’re so rich!”
We laugh thinking about it now. She tells me she knows I must have another outlook on money now since I moved out over a year ago. I tell her that 100 euros can leave my pocket so quickly I never have time to appreciate the fruits of my labor as a student working 15 to 24h/week shifts. She smiles the smile where you exhale out of your nose in understanding.
“Hey,” my sister interjects from the stool in the corner of the room, “I know I can’t use it but mama says I have 1,000 euros in my bank account. Now that is a lot!” My mom and I look and smile at her the same way she would more than a decade ago at this kind of statement — with love, kindness, and hope that she’ll live better than we do now.
“Funny that she briefly sang about toxic masculinity earlier,” I almost say out loud as my eyes well up with tears when I realize it’s the last song of the show. A moment’s impermanence was always my reason for not spending money on experiences, and here I am, almost crying at a moment’s impermanence. But I feel no sadness — at least not just sadness.
Then the concert really ends, and my partner and I leave only to get attacked by men with the official “High As Hope” tour poster the moment we step out of the arena. “2 euros! 2 euros for a poster! You don’t wanna miss it! Buy it for the memories!”
We stay at a restaurant near the arena to wait for the bus that will drive us back home, and we can still see men walking around with their posters, hunting for awed concert-goers. I realize that we really did live in a pocket universe, because outside of it, daily lives were still unfolding, with a handful of people bracing themselves to profit off of the ones who could afford to press pause on their daily lives. (And yes, we bought the poster. It was 2 euros.)
People say when you make love for the first time, you feel like everyone is staring at you. When you smoke weed and come back to your parents’, you can’t shake off the idea that they must know you’re high. So when I’m back in my hometown the day after the concert, I unconsciously expect everyone to notice I’ve changed.
“No one can see me,” I childishly mumble beside my partner in the dairy aisle of the shop that’s a minute away from our place. She smiles the smile where you exhale out of your nose in understanding. She tells me it feels nice to finally share this feeling with me. And then we take the same bottle of milk we take every time we go grocery shopping.
Hundreds of people pass us by every day, I wonder how many of them had a life-changing experience the day before? I write this in my notebook the night after the concert. In “The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows”, John Koenig coins the word ‘sonder’ — the full realization that each random passerby is living a life just as vivid and complex as your own, and in which you might only appear once, just like they often do in your life. Crossing the path of a stranger in the street, this is who I am — an extra.
Even now, the intimate and cherished thought of the experience I lived in this pocket universe clashes with my apparent need for everyone to know that it exists and that it changed me.
“My mom must think I live a lavish lifestyle now,” I think on my way to class as I listen to “Only If For A Night”. She started her life in Paris with nothing and raised me with a little bit more, and two decades later, I go back there to enjoy a concert. The guilt associated with spending money on things I don’t need at the moment sometimes resurfaces when I think about my mom, but here the feeling is different.
My bank account is in overdraft at the end of the month — something I only managed to reach once, which I freaked out about until I received my paycheck a week later. This time, the sight of my bank account triggers the memory of the experience I lived — happiness becomes the narrative behind the overdraft, not struggle. The thought helps my guilt take a backseat. More importantly, it’s comforting to think that my mom would give me this smile — the same one she and I gave my sister — exactly so that, one day, I could tell her I’m living a slightly better life. The narrative I get to build isn’t that of struggle, but that of happiness.
But when all is said and done, I can’t fully romanticize this lifestyle yet. I still give immeasurable value to the stuff I buy. I obsessively check my bank account multiple times a day — even when I haven’t spent money on anything — just to make sure money is still there. After eating fast food, I sometimes catch myself thinking, “Yep, I really put three hours of work into this, huh?” And when my account is in overdraft, I spiral and find myself thinking the stupidest things — “If I hadn’t bought this video game with the 30 euros my aunt gave me for my birthday when I turned 10, I wouldn’t be here right now.” It’s funny, it’s stupid, but I know a lot of poor people relate to this kind of thought. Growing up in poverty often means opening a door to close another one and inevitably regretting it further down the line.
However, though poverty crippled me with tunnel vision regarding how I spend my money, I now allow myself to contemplate the peripheral, and it doesn’t look so abstract and intangible anymore.
In bed with my partner, playing a game of Scrabble as we listen to Florence, daily life intertwines with the exceptional, and in my heart I know I will never tie regret to the experience I shared with her.
ORIGINAL ARTICLE: https://medium.com/@Doctor_Whodunit/spending-money-on-experiences-after-growing-up-poor-303858d07f57
If you’d like to submit a fan story, artwork or anything else, feel free to get in touch using the form on this page.
How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful - 4 years on
As How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful turns 4 years old this week, we take a look at the way it has shaped, changed and helped fans’ lives across the world.
(c) Tom Beard
Florence + the Machine’s deeply personal, firestorm on an album How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful turns 4 years old this week. It was an album written during one of the lowest points of Florence Welch’s life, detailing a journey of heartbreak, through disbelief and anger, bargaining, and finally to release.
That’s what makes the album to special. The meandering journey of heart-ache and toxicity, and the struggle for something higher is a universal one; one we can all somehow relate to, whether it being experiences with a lover, a friendship, or just a rough patch in one’s life. It’s why this album has undoubtably been one of the best received from the band’s portfolio thus far, and to celebrate its cultural and personal significance to fans across the globe, we asked you to share with us the ways in which it has changed you, and we were moved by all of your stories and revelations. Whilst we couldn’t feature them all, here’s a selection:
“It’s actually pretty difficult to put into words how important HBHBHB is to me. It’s honestly one of the most important things I’ve ever had in my life. It helped me recognize and deal with the trauma of an abusive relationship. Every song on the album matched my experience perfectly. It’s helped me forgive and be more kind to myself. To love myself. To love the fire within me but to also love my sensitivity. It’s gotten me through a lot of loss and heartache. It’s the source of my first tattoo. It’s helped me realize there is something beyond the pain of whatever I’m experiencing at the moment. To survive my circumstance. It made me feel understood and helped me find strength within myself when I thought I had nothing left to give. It gave me hope and determination. Very few things have had as much of an impact on my life as this album. I’ll be forever indebted to Florence for the honesty and wisdom she puts into her songs. I’ve even told my therapist about it, how these particular songs continue to impact my life and teach me valuable lessons. If I could only listen to one record for the rest of my life, HBHBHB would definitely be my choice.”
“It changed me. I was going through a bad breakup and it really spoke to me. I love how third eye finishes with such a positive message. Also, I made my hubby fan of Florence. We danced to one of her songs on our wedding two months ago.”
“This album came when I lost one of my best friends in a car accident (strange when you see the Odyssey movie, isn’t it ?). The mourning took a lot of time and was so painful ... But listening to FATM helped me so much, “various saints and storms” was a great therapy to me. This year I had the chance to see them live, and I heard some songs that helped me during these hard times. So today it only means positive things and love :) <3”
““Make up your mind. Let me leave or let me love you.”
Didn’t think these words would ever mean so much to me.
Prophetic. Beautiful. Painful. Open. Florence.”
(c) Emma Isabella / Vincent Haycock
“I was going through such a chaotic time in my life, all of which stemmed from my depression and my inability to deal with it. This album spoke all of the pain that I could not, and it reminded me of the hope and beauty outside of my sorrow. It’s deeply personal to me.”
“Can we talk for a moment about third eye? this song is one of the reasons why I have tattoed one on my finger; this song means the world to me, it really lifts me up every single time, it basically reminds you how amazing you are no matter the heartache.”
“I found lungs and then ceremonials during a really dark time in my life and the music of those albums spoke to me so much then letting me know I was not alone and other people feel this way too. How big How blue How beautiful then came out and reminded me to celebrate all of the beautiful pieces of this life even through the craziness”
“This will always be on my top albums list. The images that the lyrics & melodies evoke in my mind are ethereal & otherworldly, and opens up my creative channels. Whenever I need to sink into myself, I go to this album. It takes me to another realm. A metaphysical masterpiece.”
“In many ways. This album open my mind to a music that I never imagine can exist. She’s my star. My favourite song in the life is How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful. It’s my hymn.”
“Mother is life affirming. I belong to the ground now and it belongs to me. I love the way it makes me feel. Happy, sad, uplifting and beautiful. It’s a modern hymn celebrating our mother earth and how connected I feel to everything and everyone around me.”
“It’s the album that came out in the year my life started rollercoastering, and it’s been the perfect soundtrack for it then, now and will be for a long time to come. Never knew I was a dancer till Delilah showed me how”
(c) Emma Isabella
“This album got me through the darkest, toughest time in my life. It held me when I had no one to & gave me a safe space to mourn & process, but still feel joy. It made me feel so understood & reminded me I was never alone. I’ll ALWAYS be grateful for HBHBHB.”
“It came at the right moment. I desperately needed someone who was able to put into words what I was going through ‘cause I could not.Some songs hit me harder than others (Mother, VSAS, Third Eye, Ship to Wreck, St Jude) but all of it and also the Odyssey had been cathartic for me”
“I got into FATM last year, and HBHBHB specifically helped me after my ex boyfriend (who was also my best friend) finally went our separate ways. I felt like the album truly related to everything I was going through and it helped me move on and finally feel happy and hopeful again”
“How Big, How Blue cradled me through one of the hardest times of my life, when I received news that turned my world upside down. Sometimes hard to listen now because of that, but so many pieces of that record are deeply important to me 💙 over the glowing hill I will conquer ✨”
“My god words can’t even express, let’s just say that it changed my life forever. In good and bad, terrible ways. But Florence has been my north star since I was 17 and for that I am forever grateful. (God, this album is everything, the peak of her career however, in my opinion)”
“It all started with Wish That You Were Here in 2016.
As a big fan of Tim Burton, I watched one of my most awaited film in 2016. It’s Miss Peregrine’s Home For Peculiar Children. As the end credits goes by, I was definitely captured or hooked by the melody of the ending song credits. I waited it until the rolling credits then I saw the name Florence and The Machine. I searched and played it in Youtubr and it was definitely catchy and beautiful to listen with. Then I decided to download the band’s whole discography for being amazed by Florence’s powerful vocals. From Ceremonials, Lungs, How Big How Blue How Beautiful, Songs from Final Fantasy XV, High As Hope her singles Breath of Life, Over the Love, and some covers like Tiny Dancer, Halo and many more.
What caught me was Welch’s captivating, beautiful, melodious and powerful vocals. And special thanks to HBHBHB full music video. It definitely helped my depression by listening to her songs in the album. Third Eye really helped a lot as one of her most beautifully written, sung and delivered. It helped me to live and continue my life.”
“My mental health has never been 100% but every time I listen I feel 100% because I go to another place where I can just be me and not worry about anything”
Thank you to everyone who wrote in to us, sharing their personal thoughts and stories. Feel free to leave your story in the comments below.
If you’d like to feature in one of our fan-feature posts, simply drop us a line using our submissions form.