Going with the Flo

The first I heard about Florence and the Machine was an article in the Guardian Guide last year by Sylvia Patterson, who is very good at puff pieces which don't sound like puff pieces. It portrayed Florence Welch as the sort of flighty, bohemian, behold-my-quirkiness type who would completely get on my tits within five minutes of meeting them. This coupled with hearty endorsements from Johnny Borrell and her rather wanky nom de plume did not leave me awaiting her album with drooling anticipation.

Lo and behold, it turns out that Lungs is a rather fine piece of work. Although she's been lumped in with the current crop of 80s-worshipping Next Big Things and covers You've GotThe Love, Florence makes a far more progressive, soul-influenced sound that doesn't slavishly ape the past like, say, La Roux. Welch also has a voice that just when you think it's in danger of becoming one-dimensional will veer off in pleasing new directions. Subjects tackled in the lyrics include boys who make coffins, drinking yourself to death and of course the joys of domestic violence (though Kiss With A Fist isn't really about that. Obviously!).

All this results in an album that's decidedly indie in sensibility, but mainstream and catchy enough to sell plenty of records. It's certainly led me to believe that, however irritating they might be in real life, artists with colourful backgrounds like Florence are far more likely to make decent music. Compare and contrast Lily Allen (famous parents, went to Glastonbury every summer as a kid, got kicked out of hundreds of private schools, cheeky and fun) and Kate Nash (nice normal upbringing, came up through stage school, rubbish). This isn't a dig at art or stage schools per se, but it does seem like the really interesting artists tend to be the ones who got kicked out - cf Winehouse, Amy.

Not really sure why it's taken me so long to figure this out, or why I should be at all wary of pretentiousness in music - especially given that one of my favourite albums has "Dog Man Star took a suck on a pill/And stabbed a cerebellum with a curious quill" as its opening gambit. Ridicule, as some bloke once said, is nothing to be scared of.