It's not often the arrival of the support act on stage will elicit a reception bordering on the equivalent to that of the headliner – but then again, the fervour and hype surrounding King Princess is nigh-on undeniable.
The indie pop tomboy New Yorkian has had a captive audience in Australia from early on in her career – which, although admittedly only a few years ago, has only grown stronger into the 2020s.Flanked by a muscly backing band, it's easy to see exactly why that is. She's a magnetic performer, drawing in the early arrivals with a mix of thrashing guitars and beds of electronic sequencing while also backing up her own breathy vocal delivery with the robotic sheen of vocoders.
She's uncompromising, too – even though she's playing to a crowd that's not hers, with plenty of young kids in attendance, she directs her keyboard player to hammer the sample pad with an incredibly loud "PUSSY" programmed into it to signal the beginning of 'Pussy Is God'. Forget the birds and the bees, King Princess is here to let the youth know everything they need to right here.
Her final cut of the evening, 'Let Us Die', is a bittersweet one. It's a career-best track, but it's also one of the final songs the late Taylor Hawkins ever played on. Nearly a year on from his passing, in a room he played many times over the years, you can feel his spirit radiating as the band rocks out one last time. Long live Taylor, and long live the King.
A long white table, covered in candles and wreathes, is centred on the arena stage. It's an ornate piece of furnishing that's here to let you know one thing and one thing only: You're not in for any average pop show.
Since their first arrival on antipodean shores nearly 13 years ago, Florence + The Machine have never done things by halves. They've traversed theatres, festivals, arenas and open-air concerts with an elaborate and exhaustive live show.
Tonight (13 March), naturally, is no exception – in fact, it ultimately serves as a timely reminder of the band's evergreen status as they morph slowly but steadily into an inter-generational commodity.
The crowd is transfixed in the slow-burn opening suite of 'Heaven Is Here' and 'King', the first of many tracks to be lifted from 2022's 'Dance Fever' throughout the evening.
It comes properly unglued, however, when the immediate strike of 'Ship To Wreck' is dealt out. Florence Welch – the 'Florence' part of the band – leaps skyward with her microphone stuck out, calling for her makeshift choir to bellow out the chorus – as if they needed an invitation.
The audience is so well prepared they already know the hand choreography that goes along with the next track, 'Free' – that's the kind of dedication on offer tonight.
The best part about that passion and energy is that it's fully reciprocated. Welch heads down to the barricade at multiple points throughout the set, dramatically singing directly into the faces of front-row devotees before grabbing their hands to stand tall above the masses, who clamour forward just to touch the hem of her garment.
During 'Choreomania', she quite literally takes this several steps further by running directly into the audience, with a security detail following in hot pursuit like she was a presidential car.
After a full lap of the arena, she arrives back on stage and falls to her knees, breathing heavily into the microphone knowing she's exerted as much of herself as she possibly can in that moment. Then, seconds later, she bounds into the rollicking 'Kiss With A Fist' as if the last few minutes never happened.
It's a combination of power and stamina that feels other-worldly at points, in turn making her a frontwoman you can't bear to look away from. Were you to do so, however, you'd get a glimpse of her bandmates – after all, you can't have Florence without The Machine.
This engine room ensemble bring every song to vivid, colourful life – from the thudding floor toms of 'Cosmic Love' to the creaking southern Gothic blues of 'Big God', the band all know exactly when to pull back and when to absolutely unleash.
They're best on ground during 'Dog Days Are Over', a song they have performed nearly 600 times and yet come at it with the ferocity of playing it for the very first time. From its swelling harp intro through to its percussive undercurrent, all the way down to a simple tambourine and right back up to a full-band surge – it's practically perfect in every way.
The encore brings both tenderness and catharsis. The former comes with a revived 'Never Let Me Go', a piano ballad from second album 'Ceremonials' that was left collecting dust for a decade prior to this tour. It also comes with 'Shake It Out', another beloved single from the same era that remains a sentimental favourite among fans.
The latter, however, comes in the lavish closer of 'Rabbit Heart' – a song from 2009's 'Lungs' that remains one of the most precious jewels in the band's crown. Welch calls for "human sacrifices" to be "offered up" – which is a Florence + The Machine way of asking for people on shoulders – and the song's trumpeting procession serves as the perfect conclusion.
When it comes to gigs like these, you really do get out as much as you put in – and tonight, every single person has left it all out on the floor.
Early on, Welch mocks an imagined bystander having no idea what's taking place. "Is this a cult?" she shrieks in a faux-terrified voice. Not quite – this is too big to be a cult. At this point, Florence + The Machine feels like a registered religion.
