Everybody Scream

A tempestuous record, one that stays with you longer than the rage and anguish which, here, is as fleeting, yet deeply magical, as the changing seasons.

If her 2008 debut ‘Lungs’ was the deep breath of plunging into the depths, ‘Everybody Scream’ is the resounding, cathartic exhalation of finally reaching the surface once more.

Welch is often unfairly accused of being too bombastic, but on Everybody Scream she channels that energy into something truly epic.

Welch lays her soul bare, goes into terrifying detail on topics most would run away from, and can emerge from it all with another pop innovation to add to her resume. Everybody Scream is Welch reaching a boiling point and stuffing this world of hurt and confusion into 12 gentle songs that never hold back a punch. The artist pens some of her most honest music to date, and even if the world seems to be crumbling around her, Welch comes out on the other side wiser, more daring.

On Everybody Scream, Welch interrogates herself with newfound specificity and higher stakes, resulting in some of the most honest epiphanies and sharpest writing of her career.

While nothing can compete with catalog classics Lungs or Ceremonials, Everybody Scream does come close, channeling the same energy and offering similar delights and thrills for the first time in a while.

It’s an impressive testament to Welch’s artistic mastery that even though Everybody Scream ends on a quieter note, it’s still a dazzlingly thundering statement of finding catharsis by getting loud.

Those who aren’t invested in live performances may find Everybody Scream less compelling. The deeper the record goes, the more dependent it is on Welch and co’s theatricality that can sometimes only be appreciated by seeing it seep into their stage presence before your eyes. .... Luckily, there are just enough tracks on the album that emanate with such radiant energy even on stream, beckoning you to lose yourself in the restorative and ever-expanding coven.

Everything on this record feels more focused than anything she’s done before.

More rounded musically and emotionally than the caricature version of Florence + the Machine may lead you to expect, Everybody Scream is an album that suggests she’s wearing her hard-earned status rather well.

Even in Everybody Scream’s unwieldiness and inconsistencies, Florence Welch’s reclamation of witchcraft as a vital practice for anyone struggling to cope with loss and trauma makes for a mostly satisfying and compelling listen.

After a strong start, though, her sixth album sags in the middle with a run of ho-hum numbers, until Welch summons the elements again with the orchestral flourish of "You Can't Have It All". [Review of the Year 2025, p.24]

A couple tracks are crowded and rambling, as the theatrical cacophony obscures intention and meaning in a way that bores rather than intrigues. But for the most part, the album's depth and texture are a refreshing contrast to the industry's current hyper-polished pop moment — and the complexity of the arrangements is essential to support the magnitude of Welch's vulnerability and fury.

On an album full of infernos, “One of the Greats” is one of the few songs to stand apart: Its ambition and vulnerability come closest to fulfilling Everybody Scream’s mission to let it all out.