Throughout all of human history, there are two constants that I find especially significant.
First, to be human is to suffer. No matter the time or place, human beings suffer and they're well aware of it. A cruel facet of life, suffering breaks us, bonds us, and dictates much of our time on planet Earth. It's not the same for every person or group, but suffering is universal.
Still, suffering alone doesn't define humanity, which leads me to my second constant: to be human is to create art. At every step of humanity's journey, art has been just around the corner to cement human creativity. Whether it's animal drawings on a cave, mosaics of great battles, or painted landscapes, humans make art. Many times, the art even outlasts the civilizations that spawn it, reflecting how universal the human experience is.
As an artist myself, I've found these constants to be largely impactful, not just because they're unequivocally true, but because they feel especially intertwined. In other words, most of the great art comes from a place of suffering.
Now, I don't mean to suggest that only suffering can create great art, as there are a plethora of other places to find inspiration. However, suffering is one of the strongest wells we can draw from and the best artists know how to revisit them repeatedly.
There have been many suffering artists throughout history who've let their pain seep into their art. For instance, Pablo Picasso's most famous painting, Guernica, depicts an innocent town being bombed during the Spanish Civil War. Similarly, Steven Spielberg captures suffering in his film Schindler's List, a brutally complete depiction of the Holocaust. Despite different mediums and approaches, both of these pieces focus on specific tragedies and present the horrors of human suffering.
Other times, an entire genre can stem from suffering, such as American blues music. One of America's earliest artforms, the blues evolved out of the Black culture in the American South. With the consistent struggle after slavery, the blues became an artistic way to work through suffering and vocalize distaste with the social prejudice. As such, the blues would take off, eventually inspiring the jazz and rock movements that would dominate the 20th century.
Sometimes an artist channels their suffering for an entire career, such as Vincent Van Gogh. His works, such as The Starry Night and Cafe Terrace at Night, are marvelous visions of our world, but come from Van Gogh's personal struggles. Suffering from mental illnesses, Van Gogh found escape in his idyllic paintings, which offer a beautiful respite from life.
No matter how painful the suffering though, great artists find a way to channel it into something beautiful. Whether they come from personal or communal struggle, these art pieces can provoke intense feelings, showcase brutal realities, or offer solace from the cold world. Many artists have found ways to turn their suffering into the art, but one of my personal favorites is Florence Welch.
For those who don't know, Welch is the lead singer of indie rock band Florence + the Machine. The group has been producing stellar music for over a decade, employing a mix of rock and gospel to create a unique sound. Their big break came in 2009, when they released their debut album Lungs. The album not only topped the British charts, but offered a selection of hit songs, including their definitive track "Dog Days Are Over." Florence + the Machine would release many successful albums after, maintaining a large fanbase to this day.
Truthfully, I find Florence + the Machine to be a consistently impressive band. Their sound stands out in this digitized musical landscape, carrying a large amount of soul and emotional vulnerability. Welch's vocals complete this aesthetic, as her contralto voice and strong pair of lungs blow powerfully through each song.
Lyrically, their songs are exciting too, using fanciful language to stir great emotional reactions. Many of their songs explore fantastic topics, such as mermaids, werewolves, and astrological ventures, while others cover religion, strained relationships, or personal freedom. However, many of the best Florence + the Machine songs explore Welch's own suffering.
As Welch herself has publicly stated, she has experienced many hardships in her life. I don't want to dwell on them too much here, but Welch has struggled with both mental health issues and substance abuse. (If you want to read more, here's an article she wrote for British Vogue in 2019).
Despite these struggles, Welch has never shied away from them, especially not in her music. Nearly every Florence + the Machine album has a few songs that explore her struggles, some while they were actively happening to her. Still, none of Welch's songs epitomize the torture of suffering quite like "Morning Elvis."
The album closer from Dance Fever, "Morning Elvis" plays like many other Florence + the Machine songs. It features Welch's striking vocals, as well as the band's typical soulful sound. However, upon diving into the song's content, a deep introspection becomes apparent, one that confesses one of Welch's greatest battles.
The song truly begins with its title though, an allusion to the King of Rock and Roll, Elvis Presley. Now, Welch has stated before that "Morning Elvis" is about the power of rock, as well as performance. This makes sense, as Presley was arguably the greatest performer in rock history. Like the King, Welch has also been lauded for her live performances, which involve a large degree of showmanship and crowd interaction. As such, Presley and Welch are kindred souls, with the latter carrying on rock and roll's torch.
However, there's a darker half to this allusion shaped by a shared suffering between the two. Presley, who was dealing with becoming the first rock star, became addicted to drugs, which directly led to his death. Welch herself has struggled with an addiction to alcohol, especially during the beginning of her career. Thus, Welch doesn't just position herself as Presley's successor of rock, but of the substance abuse issues many musicians face.
As such, "Morning Elvis" is not just about performing, but performing in spite of personal struggles. The music informs this duality, with the choir like sound affirming the power of performance, as well as the salvation people need in times of crisis. Gospel was also one of Presley's favorite genres, further cementing Welch's link to the King.
Yet, it's the lyrics that really sell Welch's suffering. From the first verse, we get a sense of the dire situation Welch finds herself in. She remarks about missing out on a trip to Graceland due to a nasty hangover. Welch then describes this viscerally, with "bathroom tiles" pressed against her head as she "sweats out" the alcohol. It's a grueling hangover, especially since she misses out on seeing Graceland, a Mecca for die hard fans of rock. But Welch knows Elvis will understand, given his own struggles with drugs.
Then, Welch takes us to the chorus, which swells with both hope and desperation. She sings, "If I make it to the stage/ I'll show you what it means/ To be saved." By hinging on "if," Welch truly questions whether she's making it out of this bathroom. She looks to performance as her salvation, but doubts whether it will be enough.
In the next verse, Welch ends up in New Orleans, another legendary musical place. But instead of enjoying the culture, she's trapped in a bathroom again, "pinned" to the stall. The imagery likens her to Christ, further showing she's in desperate need of salvation. She then implores the band to leave, saying that she'll see them with Elvis if she doesn't survive the night. In one of the song's darkest moments, Welch begins to feel like a burden to her own band. By telling them to leave, she's basically admitting that performing probably won't save her this time. As such, she's prepared to meet Elvis in rock and roll heaven.
The chorus replays, with Welch projecting her voice in a frightened way. The urgency feels far more real now, especially when compared to the gentle singing she starts the song off with.
Welch follows this up with a bridge that clarifies the consistent battle she's been facing. She repeatedly promises herself she'll quit, but never follows through. Instead, the "call" returns to Welch so she can pen the "songs beggin' to be born." As such, Welch's desire to keep performing her songs overpowers her will to quit the alcohol she needs to do so. She knows that her music must be given to the world, but it might cost her her life.
Lastly, Welch sings the chorus again, more emphatically than she has before. The pleading becomes a relentless cry for help, as she admits she's afraid for her life. She belts out a provocative cry "to be saved," which feels ethereal in its delivery, before repeating it softly and letting the song end.
When the near gospel like music combines with Welch's viscerally jarring lyrics, we get this complex yearning for salvation. Welch sings about religion a lot, but has never described herself as religious. For her, the stage is her church and rock and roll is the only thing that can save her.
However, it's also what's killing her. Her compulsion to write great songs and perform before thousands of fans is admirable, but her reliance on alcohol to do so cripples her. While Welch might be immortalized in rock history, she could join Elvis far sooner than she wants to.
As previously established, Welch is a stark reflection of Presley. Like Welch, Presley's strenuous touring schedule led him to the unhealthy coping habits that killed him. Although Presley's fame has immortalized him, it comes with a heavy price, one Welch is now familiar with.
But this shared suffering isn't limited to Welch and Presley. Just about every rock and roll performer has felt the strain of touring, many of whom became heinously addicted to something. Some of the most notable inheritors of Presley's suffering include Jimi Hendrix, John Lennon, Kurt Cobain, David Bowie, and Jim Morrison. While they didn't all die from substance abuse, the burden of being a performer led them down tragic routes.
As such, Welch belongs to a community of suffering, as many of these artists also struggled to deliver masterpieces while keeping themselves alive. Even though Welch only focuses on Presley, the lineage of suffering features many fallen performers in between.
Fortunately for Welch, she has triumphed over her addiction, a fact she proudly attests to. The song even acknowledges this, with the sound of a cheering crowd playing after the final chorus, confirming that Welch has made it to the stage.
Despite the gross details of her suffering, Welch's performance just saves her. Her art, as well as the connections she forms through it, proves to be more powerful than her addiction. "Morning Elvis" doesn't tell us what happens next, but Welch's life confirms that she stays clean, showing that spots of hope can defeat suffering.
However, not every piece of art does this. Many artists simply let their pain seep through, offering viscerally disturbing looks at what humans suffer through. Even worse, many artists succumb to their sufferings, giving in to their illnesses or addictions until they're dead.
What we can take away though, from any art piece about suffering, is that we are not alone. Just as Welch finds a common struggle with Presley, we can take solace knowing that we're not the only ones going through the storm. Moreover, knowing that many of these struggles can be defeated should inspire hope. If Welch can bounce back from bathroom after bathroom, we can too.
However, if we can't find hope in suffering then we should at least see the beauty in it. Despite Welch's years of alcohol abuse, it inspired one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard. From the choir like backing music to Welch's bellowing vocals, the song is pure bliss in spite of its brutal inspiration.
I'll end with a quote by Van Gogh, an artist all too familiar with suffering. He said, "Art is to console those who are broken by life," and I can't think of a better way to put it. These days, we all seem to be broken by life in one way or another. It's nothing to be ashamed of, it just happens. But instead of letting life beat us down, let us take to art to share our feelings, to bond over the brutality of living, and to be consoled by the indomitable beauty of the human spirit.
