During the songwriting process, she steeped herself in the horror canon, studying occultism at the Warburg Institute and reading books such as Rob Young’s “Electric Eden,” which traces how British folk music in the sixties and seventies began to cross over with mysticism. “Doing the work and sleeping alone / downloading Revelations of Divine Love on my phone,” she sings wryly, on “Perfume and Milk.” There was an endearing camp to the rollout of “Everyone Scream,” which was released on Halloween: the teaser trailer, which was also directed by de Wilde, shows Welch yelling like a final girl into a deep hole. She even took screaming lessons to prepare. Welch has always brought musical-theatre instincts to her work, but these witchy references feel particularly well suited to an album that charts the sacrifices that she has made to have her work taken seriously. “Here I don’t have to be quiet / Here I don’t have to be kind, extraordinary, normal all at the same time,” Welch sings, of the power she finds while performing, on “Everybody Scream.” “But look at me run myself ragged, blood on the stage / But how can I leave you when you’re screaming my name?”journey-inline-newsletterinline-newsletter