It’s nearly impossible to exaggerate how quickly and widely Florence + the Machine rose to prominence at the end of the 2000s. Even before their debut LP — 2009’s Lungs — came out, the group had made their mark in the UK, having supported several big acts (such as MGMT, Blur, and Duran Duran). Around the same time, they appeared at major events like Glastonbury Festival 2008, Reading and Leeds Festival 2008, and Shockwaves NME Awards Tour 2009.
Those opportunities, coupled with coverage from BBC Introducing and a “Critics’ Choice” win at the 2009 Brit Awards, meant that mastermind Florence Welch and company were already surrounded by a ton of praise and pressure when they began working on their first collection.
Despite the fact that, as she revealed to Billboard in 2011, “huge amounts of media scrutiny” led to her repeatedly “lying, crying on the studio floor,” Lungs was a massive creative and commercial triumph. Its lusciously earnest and multi-stylistic poise rightly earned comparisons to fellow female musicians like Grace Slick, Kate Bush, Tori Amos, Björk, and PJ Harvey (though Welch herself cites “male singers” and local “garage punk bands” as her main influences).
It also sold quite well, reaching No. 1 on the UK Albums Chart and No. 14 on the Billboard 200, while numerous outlets — The A.V. Club, The Guardian, Entertainment Weekly, Spin, and of course, Consequence — celebrated it. Thus, the stage was set for the then-sextet to make an even bigger impression with Lungs’ successor. Thankfully, Ceremonials, released on October 28th, 2011, did just that.
Famously intended to be a “more dark [and] more heavy” venture that “sounded like a whole project rather than a scrapbook of ideas,” the LP is comparatively regal, somber, and unified. Whereas both Lungs and their third sequence — 2015’s How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful — are (to varying degrees) brighter and humbler declarations, Ceremonials is boldly confrontational, fearlessly confessional, and soulfully classical (which means that it’s less guitar-driven, too). Ten years later, it remains Welch’s most thoroughly assertive and tasteful statement, as well as an undeniably classic part of the modern baroque pop movement.
The record’s artwork and title alone showcase its grimmer and grander aesthetic. Originally, Welch wanted to call it Violence — one of her favorite words — due to how it represents humans’ ability to “feel things violently.” It’s also meant to evoke “the classical Shakespearean drama” and “pop and… pulp” of Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet. Ultimately, however, she swapped the term for one that “got stuck in [her] head” after seeing a video art piece called “Ceremonials” several years prior.
That choice was further cemented by the realization that her newest material was “influenced by hymns and poems and sounds of church bells.” As for the look of the LP, and in contrast to the colorful and wild look of Lungs, Ceremonials’ cover, photographed by Tom Beard, conveys an appropriately Great Gatsby-esque air of chic yet subdued style reminiscent of the vintage American Jazz Age.
Although the group’s globe-trotting Lungs tour somewhat delayed the writing of Ceremonials, Welch admitted to Time that by the start of 2011, things were progressing quite swiftly and smoothly. “People say that making the second album is supposed to be more difficult. But nothing could have been harder than that first record. I had no idea what I was doing,” she professed. In fact, she was “pretty surprised at how prolific” the process was since she “wrote a song about every six months” during the making of her debut.
Having officially reached her mid-twenties by 2011, Welch decided to simultaneously scale back her youthful indulgences (partying, drinking, gallivanting, etc.) and double down on more mature and personal, but deeply relatable, explorations. Indeed, Ceremonials’ vast assortment of subject matter — ranging from personal quandaries regarding science, romance, death and adulthood, to a breathtaking nod to Virginia Woolf and Frieda Kahlo — is consistently presented with poetic agency and endearing wisdom. Naturally, part of the credit for that goes to co-writer and lead producer Paul Epworth, who returned from Lungs.