When Florence + the Machine take the main stage at Outside Lands on Saturday, Aug. 11, it will mark the first time a female-fronted act has headlined the festival in its 11-year run.

The promoters couldn’t have picked a more fitting outfit to break the barrier.

Since releasing its debut album, 2009’s “Lungs,” the British rock band led by the fiery-haired singer and songwriter Florence Welch has become known for its spectacular live shows — big on histrionics, thunderous noise and rapturous melodies.

In June, Florence + the Machine released their fourth and latest studio album, “High as Hope,” which finds 31-year-old Welch opening up on her struggles with sobriety, self-image and finding true love. It is a raw, rowdy piece of work that will no doubt ignite in front of a crowd of 75,000.

Those feelings are further amplified in “Useless Magic” a book of her lyrics, poetry and drawings that came out in July.

The Chronicle caught up with Welch at her home in South London.

More Information Florence + the Machine at Outside Lands: 8:25 p.m. Saturday, Aug. 11. Lands End Stage, Golden Gate Park, S.F. www.sfoutsidelands.com www.youtube.com/watch?v=5GHXEGz3PJg

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Q: From the first time I saw you onstage, it appeared like you were born to be there. Did you ever go through an awkward phase as a performer?

A: When did you see me last?

Q: I don’t remember the venue, but I remember what you were wearing — a bright yellow flowing dress.

A: I remember outfits as well. I’m like, “Oh, the yellow dress!”

I don’t know, performing is such a funny thing. I guess people come to shows to say, “It was good” or “It was not good.” It’s like putting yourself out there to be judged, or for people to comment on it. But actually, when I’m doing it I feel like there’s not judgment. I feel like this is a space where nothing matters. It’s really interesting.

Q: I think you have it all wrong. Nobody is coming to judge — they’re coming for catharsis.

A: It’s funny when you’re doing a show, because there will be someone from a paper to review it or whatever. But I agree in terms of the crowd. I think in my head, even though it is a space where people are thinking about what you’re doing, I’m not really thinking about it.

Q: You have to do that. Otherwise, it’s such an absurd situation to be in, singing about your most personal things in front of thousands of people while you twirl around barefoot.

A: It’s really weird. There’s a strange moment of disappearance that happens. I think it’s because you’re the most seen that you can be. You’re literally in front of so many people, but you totally disappear as well. You’re kind of on this solitary journey, but there’s this idea that you have to take everyone with you as well.

I feel like people are counting on this transcendent feeling from you and whatever you can do to encourage people, whether they put their phones away for a little bit or even if they jump up and down, you can encourage everyone to be present.

Q: I just got a copy of “Useless Magic” and it’s weird that ...

A: It’s a weird book.

Q: No, it’s not. It’s weird that out of the context of the music your words are so vulnerable. You sing with so much ferocity that no one would ever see you as having these moments of weakness.

A: I know. I was thinking about “Useless Magic” today. I have these weird whiplash feelings when I release work where I’m like, “Oh my God, do you know people are going to read that?!”

I don’t think about it when I’m writing a poem or a song. It’s a strange trick I’m playing on myself just to see how it feels to write something down. I’m colluding with myself that I’ll never show it to anybody or sing it. And then, bit and by bit, it makes its way into the world.

Q: Which is a good thing, because it shows you are a real person.

A: I really appreciate you saying that. It’s interesting to be able to tell your truth and to have it received with love by people. It’s one of the most moving things that has ever happened to me in my life. It’s so encouraging to be able to put stuff in a song like “Hunger,” that was perhaps a source of shame for me when I was younger. Now I just put everything out there — bloody and bruised and broken — and to have it received is strengthening. That’s something that goes back into the performance. It goes back into me a as person. I’m so grateful.

Q: I particularly love the line in “Sky Full of Song”: “I can hear the sirens, but I cannot walk away.” It’s such a universal feeling.

A: I know. You know when you meet this person and you look at them and you can hear the sirens going off in your head and you’re like, “OK, this is going to be fun, but ultimately it’s going to be a disaster”? What is interesting is that I started to understand that it was more about me than these people, or the fact that I was attracted to self-destructive situations.

As you get older, there’s a kind of like, “I know this isn’t about you. This is my stuff.” You start to understand that the myths you’re creating are your myths. You don’t quite know this person, but you can meet somebody and have made a movie about them. I started to understand the mythology you apply to people, which is really more of an expression of your imagination than something that would be real.

Q: And you have quite the imagination.

A: It’s really interesting. I’ve struggled with anxiety. I’ve been depressed in my life. I’ve read all the books about it and tried to figure it out, and I was reading this book that said if you’re highly imaginative then you’re going to be highly anxious because your brain is going to have a thousand different outcomes at once — and never the logical one. If you’re thinking all the time, you’re going to construct.

One of my friends who I grew up with said, “It’s cool being you but then you also have to be you, so that must suck. ... You have to be in your head all the time.”

Q: I’m sure it’s not such a bad place to be.

A: I found a way to manage it.

Q: You’re the first female-fronted act to headline Outside Lands. Do you feel like you would have had a completely different career path if you were in a band like, say, Arctic Monkeys?

A: I don’t know. I was thinking about my identity as a performer and I understand obviously that I’m a woman. But when I’m in performance mode, it’s a genderless state for me. Even creativity is a fluid place.

When I’m performing I can be very masculine, and then there are moments when I can be very feminine. It’s hard to explain how I feel about being a female front woman. I don’t even know what that is. It’s a space that is entirely free from the definition of man or woman.

Aidin Vaziri is The San Francisco Chronicle’s pop music critic. Email: avaziri@sfchronicle.com Twitter: @MusicSF