Words by Greg Walker
OUT NOW via Sold State Records
Sometimes the universe works in a profound way. I hadn’t written for a little while when I was presented the opportunity to review The Devil Wears Prada’s new album Flowers. Really only coming into the band’s fold on their preceding stellar full-length Color Decay, I felt underqualified to critique this end result of the band’s 20-year journey through the Metalcore scene and beyond, however I felt a pull. And during the absorption process, taking in what they’ve offered this time round, the reason the universe extended this album to me was revealed.
One of my people has been struggling. Fourth single Wave stopped me in my tracks, describing that struggle in graphic detail, so much so it feels almost voyeuristic, and left me in tears after I first heard it. In the words of vocalist Mike Hranica and guitarist Jeremy DePoyster,
‘We like to map out our lives, but you’ve got to be able to relinquish control…I try to be positive and think, ‘Ride the wave, man,’, I believe there’s a true path you’re supposed to be on. If you fight against, it can be hard.’
Musically stripped back, Wave is gently stepped, additional elements gradually introduced as if being cautiously suggested to someone on the brink. The underlying hum in the chorus massages the heart. Quite simply put, this song is beautiful. And after all the turmoil, self-motivation, and supposed victory: a tragic ending? I’ll be haunted by not knowing the nature of the barely audible noise in the last two seconds after the music has died.
As introduced in Wave, TDWP’s Metalcore DNA is used sparingly throughout the album, Flowers’ overall sound almost indistinguishable from their earliest releases, even more accessible than Color Decay which was jam packed with lethal hooks that snagged me pretty much instantly. Poised to open this band to an ever-expanding audience, Flowers relies heavily on delicate fragility and verbose rock moments, some would say to the detriment of older fans and years of material they’ve become accustomed to. It’s made for an aural departure purpose-built to cater to the grandeur of arena pageantry.
Setting up the album’s sweeping cinematics, opening track Where The Flowers Never Grow doesn’t kick in nearly as hard as album intro That Same Place might suggest, the tone a theatrical production on a grand scale rather than the polished grit of Color Decay. The third single’s heavy bridge and crushing outro are welcome, but very brief. TDWP are obviously supremely confident in their new material, otherwise so many pre-released songs could be misconstrued as oversaturation. 7th advance single Everybody Knows reminds of Don Broco, drenched in mainstream personality backed by a reasonably big guitar wall. It’s not a bad song, and an appropriate representation of what can be found on the rest Flowers, but it makes me want to go back to Don Broco’s Amazing Things album. So Low is also sprinkled with Don Broco tendencies, until the tease of gigantic chugs mid song. I’m picturing it performed live backed by an overzealous pyro display and other such modern distractions.
So far, the side step is apparent, so much so that when the heavy moments kick in, they’re much more illuminated, but sadly for me are too few and far between. For You is track 5, and this deep into the album there’s been no muscular tune yet. This is such a softening of their sound that when screams hit in certain areas they often seem out of place. That is, until All Out, which delivers just that: the first song that goes all out, guitars, drums, banshee screams, the whole kit and kaboodle. A bouncy chunk resplendent with bass drops and sprinkled with a tasteful amount of melody, a meeting of the past and the present, this one feels like an appeasement, the only bone on the album thrown to loyal fans of old.
And after the promising All Out we’re back to the new sound with Ritual, neck deep in the up-tempo, hand clapping, sing-along chorus. Even the breakdown despite being guitar driven doesn’t feel brawny. As if to illustrate just how far TDWP have removed themselves from their Metalcore roots, The Silence pumps into being with an 80s New Wave beat. Unfortunately, it distracted me too much, coupled with the trickly keyboard line in the chorus I found myself daydreaming of Split Enz! This one was a step too far even for me, sorry. My Paradise puts a stamp on this album’s spreading of the creative wings, with all the rock clichés intact.
I get that bands evolve, expand their repertoire to encompass growing tastes, attempt to capture the focus of otherwise casual fans. I didn’t expect more of the same, and it was always going to be hard to back up after as fantastic an album as Color Decay. However, in spite of my opined shortcomings and considered on its own merits, Flowers is musically a decent effort and an easy listen showcasing rock melodics alongside pop attributes, with scattered metal moments. Perhaps I’m wrong in thinking this even bolder leap may further alienate older fans, but I also understand taking the chance to capitalise and reach for larger audiences with an even more accessible approach. More power to The Devil Wears Prada when they pull it off.
