I mean, what more can a modern witch say about her absolute love and veneration of Florence Welch? The music of Florence + The Machine hits me on all cylinders—I want to dance to it, play along with it, get lost in the finding the meaning of the words.
Useless Magic is certainly a perfect companion for the last of those pursuits. Since lyrics and poetry are such dear companions, it makes perfect sense to me to seek out favourite songwriters as poets.
In addition to lyrics, Useless Magic also contains Florence’s poetry and other scribbled notes. As someone who is somewhat obsessed with people’s individual handwriting, this is holds a particular fascination for me. Her writing and scribbles on random pieces of paper remind me so much of my own writing desk and the fact that creativity often looks the same from the biggest icons to the ardent enthusiasts.
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“Songs can be inherently prophetic, like subconscious warnings or messages to myself, but I often don’t know what I’m trying to say until years later. Or a prediction comes true and I couldn’t do anything to stop it, so it seems like a kind of useless magic.”
Also similar to Florence, I have had a few recent moments of stark realization of deep truths about myself that I had hidden from myself in my fiction. (If 40,000 words firmly in the hurt/comfort trope come pouring out of you in one month, maybe consider reaching out to someone to come hold your hand or stroke your hair or something—advice from my personal experience.)
Useless, perhaps. But worthless? Never.
Now if anyone needs me, I’ll be continuing to choreograph my epic contemporary solo to “Jenny of Oldstones” in my head.
Birch, Bone & Hook 