Florence and the Machine Play for Semiconscious Audience.

Brit singer Florence Welch and her Machine rolled into town Saturday night at Kool Haus. My ilk and I attended this show with great anticipation. Florence’s style eludes definition, an amalgamated style of folk, pop and rock. Her voice takes over a room. The new Patti Smith, but fortunately easier on the eyes. Indeed, Florence took the stage looking freshly roused from a hippie commune. A musical anachronism without label, as great music should be.

Now my hard on for the music aside, the show fell short of my lofty expectations. The ginger songstress took the stage and at once broke into Howl, my personal favourite off Lungs, her 2009 release. Her presence on stage was at once reminiscent of a young Steve Nicks. And she killed it like a young Stevie Nicks. Yet all feet remained firmly on the ground for the first song. The crowd seemed unaware that whom they had paid to see had taken the stage. Kiss With a Fist followed. A more popular number than the preceding track. I moved into the crowd and prepared to soak up the crowd’s ambient energy.  No dice.

My first inclination was to blame the youngens of the all ages crowd for the mausoleum style reception that Toronto provided. Perhaps I can in part blame them, but the other end of the spectrum brought their own brand of geriatric apathy to the concert. I can appreciate that Florence’s music reaches a wide crowd and can be enjoyed by many. Truly, it is the mark of a versatile artist.  But to come to her show, which in of itself demonstrates your affinity towards her beats, and then make no effort to partake in concert revelry? For shame, Toronto.

I lend the term ‘mosh pit’ with great trepidation. What technically should have been the mosh pit was not unlike a grade 8 dance. The range of motion was limited to minute swaying, people recoiled at accidental touching and scowls and awkward smiles were the expression of choice. My time here was brief, I relocated to the bar as the set ended. For the first time the crowd raised their voices in the standard bargain for more songs. We pad your ego, you keep playing.

Waiting for encores is like taking the bus. A little piece of me dies each time I do it.

However, like taking the bus, I waited for the encore.

Florence retook the stage. Two more songs followed. It was not until Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up) that the crowd was reminded they were bearing witness to great live music. Despite the somewhat subdued volume when Florence hit the chorus, the crowd was there to help her out. Finally I saw a glimmer of the energy that a concert crowd should have in droves.  I wish this were the feeling from the show’s onset.

I imagine the force of Florence and the Machine’s concerts have elevated audiences in other cities.  Here in Toronto they were met with muddled disinterest. It is my hope that the bitter aftertaste from Saturday’s show does not dissuade the band from returning. Perhaps next time we can distract the douchebags with an Ed Hardy sample sale. That oughta keep ‘em busy.

Words: Darien Campbell