Gig Review: Florist at Union Chapel
At Union Chapel, Florist craft sonic communion out of floaty, fluorescent dream-pop.
The dual-purpose Congregational church and performance venue, known as Union Chapel, feels like a polarising space for performers. While an undeniably holy atmosphere, the overwhelming gravitas of its burgundy dome, elaborate lighting design, and religious iconography must put an immense pressure to live up to its acoustic capabilities. Yet on a calm Monday night in June, it was the perfect host for the talents of Emily Sprague and company as Florist continue to tour their album Jellywish.
As a novice to both the group and the venue, I went in expecting little besides an ethereal soundscape and an ornate environment. It was quite the pleasant surprise to find a band that not only created a dreamy ambiance, but proved themselves as varied, complex songwriters, with their soundwaves and lyrics echoing brilliantly off the chapel’s walls.
It was evident that this would be a special performance from a group of talented artists long before Florist took the stage. Katy Beth Young’s relatively new and absolutely formidable tenderness set a brilliant tone for the night, opening with a haunting folk piece where she declared “I’m a ramblin’ woman, Lord knows!” with a power that felt reminiscent of Sandy Denny or Bridget St. John. While some songs in their set felt like a bit of a mixed bag in their effectiveness, Young’s talent was undeniable. Simple finger-picking and precise vocalisation captivated my attention with each breath and she more than held her own against Florist, with their own, more traditional stylings of atmospheric performance.
As Young took a bow and the sunlight gradually dimmed through the stained glass, anticipation for the main act felt palpable amongst the concertgoers hushed whispers. Some of this may have come from the sheer discomfort of the chapel’s pews, however the wails of my back went blissfully out of mind when the quartet graced the stage and the first triumphant notes of the (aptly named) ‘Levitate’ echoed out. Immediately, I noted the interesting characters from which this gorgeous wall of sound emanated from.
Were it not for her musing on stage on how she’s nearly 30, I would not clock Sprague for much beyond 20, with a shy demeanour and Timmy Turner-esque clothing -- truly embracing a “shoegaze” mentality with little eye contact and pedal mastery. Meanwhile, behind her sits Rick Spataro, who appears many years her senior, but maintains a calm, friendly demeanour while alternating between bass and synths. The remaining members on the other side of the stage (Jonnie Baker and Felix Walworth on guitar and drums, respectively) appear like parallel forces. Stiff and dressed for the hot June day, they look more likely to break into a hardcore set rather than to craft atmospheric dreamscapes.
Yet, as soon as they transition to ‘Have Heaven’, I am sold on them as a perfectly unified front, with Walworth’s drums building a driving rhythm for the others to modulate and bend over. But this song’s power comes more from its DIY songwriting bones than it does its inventive pedal use. Sprague’s delivery is full of pathos and her compelling nature as a performer recalls the innocence of Beat Happening’s Heather Lewis in its gorgeous chorus as she dreams of a heaven she could have. It’s moments like these — where they merge sincerity and a childlike song structure with these lush soundscapes — where they do feel like something particularly unique, set apart from the countless dream-pop bands substituting inspiration for pedals.
These tracks, as well as most of the set, come from their latest album Jellywish: an excellent release built on tender feelings and catharsis. This was especially true of ‘Our Hearts In A Room’, which saw Spataro truly come alive on the keys. Each note echoed the sentiment of honest love throughout the chapel in a moment that had everyone perfectly calm with smiles all around me.
While they played a mix of material from their back catalogue as well, it’s a rare and beautiful thing to hear a band play live and to hear clamour for them to play more of the new stuff. Outside of ‘Sci-Fi Silence’, with its sliding twang and gorgeous movements, I found the older material to be comparatively weaker. While these tracks were still lush and pleasant, they feel more focused on ambiance and tend to do less to achieve Florist’s great strength: combining precise sonic force with true emotionality and clever song structure.
This emotionality extends to Sprague’s addresses to the audience, which, while a tad meandering and without focus, certainly conveyed how fortunate the whole band felt to be able to travel and play their music to a captive audience. Indeed, one could hardly imagine a more attentive crowd than those in attendance that evening. With every sound liable to reverberate around you, people’s lips were sealed for the whole set, save for restrained “woos” amidst applause. Notably, this applause often came several seconds after the songs ended, with all of us all spellbound by the performance that it was often difficult to remember that we were people in bodies who are meant to clap at the end of a good performance.
However, when they came to their final song — the brilliant (and fittingly titled) ‘This Was A Gift — the applause felt endless as people clapped and cheered for minutes to bask in the beautiful moment. Their lyrical motif of a jellyfish was apt as it felt the collective brains of perfect strangers in the pews had transcended into the ocean, floating along peacefully. It’s a misunderstood, incomprehensibly designed creature — and after all, who doesn’t contain a little venom within them that they inadvertently release from time to time? Their set was a reminder to embrace those flaws and our strange designs, to drift along with others through something distinct to our species.