Hey there, music enthusiasts! Picture this: an album that drags you into a vortex of unrelenting sorrow, only to lift you with moments of breathtaking beauty that make you crave the plunge all over again. That's the paradoxical allure of Clouds' 2025 release, Desprins – a soundscape that might just redefine how you experience emotional turmoil in metal. But here's where it gets intriguing: if you're new to this genre, stick around, because I'm about to break down why this record could either haunt your dreams or leave you indifferent. And trust me, this is the part most folks miss – the subtle genius behind its polarizing charm.
For those who've been tuning in closely, you might recall that Clouds' 2021 masterpiece Despǎrțire was my inaugural review right here on Angry Metal Guy (check it out at https://www.angrymetalguy.com/clouds-despartire-review/). Back then, in my wide-eyed newbie days, I slapped a 4.5 rating on it, and you know what? I stand by that choice without a shred of regret. The name Clouds had started to blur in my memory until, out of the blue, Desprins dropped in January without any fanfare, instantly reigniting those bittersweet memories. That signature cloak of flute-infused gloom enveloped me right away, catapulting me back to that chilly November night when I first spun their tunes, peering into the inky void through a train window.
What makes Desprins so evocative isn't just its role as a sequel in Clouds' ongoing odyssey of hopelessness; it's an evolution that amplifies their unmistakable style. Drawing from their roots in black-tinged funeral doom – think slow, crushing riffs and mournful melodies that evoke a grand funeral procession – this album layers on extra weight while inviting deeper introspection. It's shrouded in expansive synth textures reminiscent of their debut works, but executed with a newfound assurance and immersive depth. The push-pull between the album's most brutal heaviness and its tenderest whispers is heightened, creating a sharper contrast. The raw crunch of the guitars, the aching vulnerability in the vocals, and the airy elegance of acoustic elements stand out more vividly, yet they harmonize to orchestrate waves of emotional buildup and cathartic release. In this suspended realm of ambiance, frontman Daniel Neagoe shifts seamlessly from hushed, reverent murmurs to anguished screams and primal growls. Powerful riffs surge before ceding to delicate piano solos, and soft melodies build gradually, often led by a flute, each element dissolving naturally into the next like tides in a stormy sea.
But here's where it gets controversial – and this is the twist that sparks endless debate among fans: One might contend that the stunning cohesion of Desprins' seemingly mismatched components stems directly from the achingly gorgeous melodies they produce. No matter if a track kicks off with a flute (as in "Disguise"), a piano ("Unanswered"), synth ("Life Becomes Lifeless"), or guitar ("Chain Me" and "Chasing Ghosts"), these instruments soon intertwine in a unified theme. The gaping voids formed by blending guitar harmonies with flute lines (think "Life Becomes Lifeless" or "Forge Another Nightmare") open up into minimalist synth washes and detached clean singing, where every key press and drum strike resonates with piercing clarity. These moments are crafted for lost-in-thought gazes into emptiness, their emotional punch so intense it feels almost cruel. Tracks like "Life Becomes Lifeless," "Chain Me," and the closing of "Chasing Ghosts" hit especially hard. Even with a leaner sonic palette, Clouds achieve the same epic sorrow that bands like Shape of Despair deliver on a larger scale. Full disclosure, I'm a total softie when it comes to this stuff – Clouds' knack for stirring tears in a deeply melancholic way is something I deeply admire and cherish.
Yet, perhaps more than ever, Clouds' current sound is a love-it-or-hate-it proposition. I'm firmly in the adoration camp, of course. Similar to other funeral doom outfits or similarly somber genres (like post-metal or even classical requiems), the gateway to their world of grief only opens if it draws you in completely. Desprins intensifies all the elements that might make it tough to endure – the pervasive anguish, the stark swings from oppressive might to ethereal uplift – but this bold approach only cements its originality and magnetic pull. For beginners dipping into funeral doom, which often feels like a slow-motion elegy mourning life's cruelties, this album serves as a perfect entry point: it balances the genre's weight without overwhelming, while teaching you to appreciate how beauty emerges from darkness. Think of it as a guided tour through sorrow that rewards patience with profound rewards.
Tracks to Check Out: "Disguise," "Life Becomes Lifeless," "Forge Another Nightmare," "Chasing Ghosts."
So, what do you think? Is immersing yourself in such intense sadness a form of emotional therapy, or does it risk dragging you into unnecessary despair? And here's a provocative angle: Could this album's polarizing nature actually be its greatest strength, forcing listeners to confront their own vulnerabilities in a way mainstream music shies away from? I'd love to hear your take – agree, disagree, or share a similar experience in the comments below!
