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You'll never believe me, but I'll tell you anyway. I went to see Florence and the Machine live in Auckland. A friend had told me via some sort of Facebook link that they were coming back to New Zealand. After much to-ing and fro-ing, another friend and I decided to invest. It is the best $220 I have ever spent. Ever.

Apparently, Critic credentials actually do count for something and I was able to arrange a fifteen-minute phone interview with Florence the afternoon before her concert, thanks to a very accommodating woman at Universal.
   But I am getting ahead of myself. We arrived in Auckland having flown out of Christchurch that afternoon. Brunch at Ponsonby's Bambina ensued and thrift store shopping on K(arangahape) road quickly followed. Some leather shoes in St Kevin's arcade were in the process of convincing me to take them to a good home when we had our first encounter. I am always amazed at how a foreign accent can immediately set someone apart from the rest, let alone the head of flaming red hair that accompanied it when I turned around. 
   After a nervous, polite nod of acknowledgement, my friend and I escaped from K Road by bus like a couple of love-struck Justin Bieber fans and found the only possible distraction in Newmarket's fashionable alleyways. My interview was scheduled for 1.45pm that afternoon and I planned to go back to use the office to conduct the interview. Alas, Ruby, Workshop, Kate Sylvester, and Moochi were too fun to ignore and it soon got to one o'clock. What were we to do? The decision was made to use a toilet, but to do so would require an entirely separate cubicle, one that was immune to the sound of flushing toilets and gossiping women. It was a commodity we soon discovered was in short supply as we evaluated our options in the Newmarket mall and Zarbo's delicatessen. With heightened stress levels, we walked away from the main streets and encountered a polite rather austere bar and restaurant called Market Kitchen. The toilet, though dark and brooding, was perfect and within two minutes my phone was ringing. I set it down next to the flush button, put it on loud speaker and pressed record on the dictaphone.
   Florence Welch has a soft, polite, rather shy South London accent. She sounded a little tired and understandably so after I discovered that the previous day's schedule had involved interviews from 7am to 5pm. Today had been less hectic and she had been able to enjoy Auckland a little.
    “I have had a really nice time actually. I have been mooching around, hung out on Kay Street [sic] and trawled through the vintage stores. I am going to go over to Ponsonby [later] to see if I can find anything.” Let it be known that before each concert Florence goes to vintage stores to buy a costume for her performance. During this interview she reflected that she had “picked up a big black hat while I was there this morning.”
   Florence and the Machine arrived in New Zealand from a sell-out tour in Europe and its surrounds. Last month, they performed at Glastonbury on the other stage to the biggest crowd on record. “While I was up there I couldn't see, there were just so many people and the sun was so bright. It's really fun, but at the same time a lot of pressure ... I came off stage and had a kind of nervous breakdown.” 
   Florence, whose voice has become a distinctive presence on our iPods and radios in recent months, describes her style as the result of experimentation: “I think I am a bit of a parrot. I grew up imitating musicals and lots of different styles so it took me a while to find out what sort of style was really me. It is still a work in progress.” 
   But how did the opportunity to perform Candi Stratton's dance number 'You've Got the Love' come about? “I think about two years ago when we were playing in a dance tent at a festival. We're not a dance band so I thought on a whim in a friend's kitchen that it might be fun to cover a dance song. 'You've Got the Love' was one of my favourite songs anyway so I called up my guitarist and said let's see if we can do it. I remember when we played it as the last song in the rain-soaked festival in the dance tent, the feeling of the crowd was completely euphoric. But we only really thought we'd play it once and then it got a life of its own.” A life that has led to collaborations with fellow British band The XX. “We performed it with them at Glastonbury this year. It was interesting because I had to learn how to sing my vocals as if they were remixed.” 
   And then, as if in a fairytale, my list of questions peters out and our conversation comes to an end. She hangs up; I turn off my Dictaphone and sit, feeling somewhat surreal, on the lid of the toilet. 
   It is on the way to the concert that we see her again. True to her word she is crossing Ponsonby Road wearing the dark black hat she bought earlier that day, her flaming red hair (née Auburney-brown) blowing furiously in the wind. 
   The concert, though somewhat impeded by a long ticket collection line, goes off with a bang. The sound is excellent and Florence's voice and accompanying band are as good live as they are in the recording studio. The rather polite crowd gets more excited as the numbers build and we soon bear witness to one of their new songs, 'Strangeness and Charm'. Florence had explained earlier on in the day when asked what she was drawing on in creating her much anticipated second album that “One of the things I was inspired by were these two subatomic particles called Strangeness and Charm, I just thought that was a really human and sweet thing to call something so small. You can't see them but you know that they exist because you can feel their effects.” A rocky number, it is sure to be a hit when it reaches the radio. 'You've got the Love' lived up to and exceeded even the highest expectations, while the show itself climaxed with an extended version of 'Dog Days Are Over'. 
   Town and a little bar called Cassette on Vulcan Lane soon followed. When we walked in, they were blasting Aretha and many a person was wearing op shop attire. Ordering a drink at the bar, my companion was the first to see her and it was only when she was ushered by a security guard or two into the VIP room that I myself encountered Florence Welch in the flesh. 
   One or two polite enquiries made it known that a white wrist band was required to get into the VIP area. This proved to be a problem as we had few credentials on which to operate. The bar staff had no power and no authority and our hopes were dwindling. She was but a wall away ... then, somebody grabbed my shoulder and twisted me around. All was explained as we rocketed down the stairs: “I told her you were supposed to go backstage to take a photo but that they left before you could get there and that if I brought you down to her, could she give you a white band and she said, 'YES! ' Come on!” Before I knew it I was introduced to Grace on the door and was being pushed back up the stairs towards the bouncer on the VIP room. He gave me a wry smile and let me pass. 
   I don't know what I was expecting to be behind the curtain, I just know that it wasn't the sliver of a hallway cut through by tables that greeted me. A bottle of champagne sat in the middle of the table with four or five undrunken glasses bordering it. There were no more than ten, maybe fourteen people sitting on the elongated booth. Florence was in the middle wearing that same black hat; two British friends sat beside her, while a bunch of New Zealand who-g-whatsits flittered excitedly around her. 
   The chat from the little gay man to Florence's immediate left was a little crass: “If I wasn't gay I would fuck your cunt.” Squeal, clap. But all was interrupted with the arrival of Isabella Summers, keyboardist and songwriter extraordinaire and the equally outstanding and gentile drummer, Chris Hayden. Admittedly, I failed to recognise Mr. Hayden until he asked whether I was all right for a drink. 
   “Yep, no, fine, all good,” I think was my reply, glass of champagne in hand. 
   Florence had described her band earlier on in the day. “Yeah, they're cool. They are pretty upbeat. They're pretty relaxed people, all up for a good time, really friendly and yeah, they are up for exploring and wanting the best of everything.” She was right. 
   Cue an Almost Famous moment as I found myself trying to make interesting chat with Summers and regarding, as if a fly on the wall, the happenings of a touring internationally-recognised rock group who have performed with the likes of Dizzie, David Byrne, and Fat Boy Slim. I'm no name dropper, what? Dancing on seats, rounds of Jager shots, shrieks of excitement and enthusiasm abound – this is what takes place behind velvet curtains. 
   In amongst these boisterous travelling companions and groupies, I was soon craving the presence of my own friends. A want of shared experience or something such like. There was no way I was leaving without introducing myself, however. And on the way out, I said goodbye to both Isa of Florence Robot/ Isa Machine (the band's previous title) and Florence herself. She smiled graciously as I extrapolated my fandom, something she has probably heard far too many times before. 
   “Big fan, loved the concert, thanks for the interview this afternoon, lovely to meet you, bye.” And with a quick shake of the hand, I was out. 
   Naturally, we swapped the wristband around the three of us and the others took a turn in the VIP room, none of us knowing what to say. Silenced by our own feelings of awe. It was only an hour later that we also realised that the band also gave us access to the bar. Three lemon, lime and vodkas, four coronas and three gin and tonics later and we were having a great time.
   Cheers Florence for a great night!