The Devil Wears Prada “Flowers” Album Review
Flowers marks the ninth studio album from The Devil Wears Prada, a band I first came across about five years ago, before diving deep into their discography. Since then, I’ve always admired how they balance heaviness with emotion, never seeming afraid to change things up, and this record proceeds that legacy well.
Photo Credit: Wyatt Clough
The opening track That Same Place feels less like a song and more like the sound of a memory fading in and out. A woman’s voice quietly admits, “I used to believe that if I got everything I wanted, maybe then I’d finally be happy.” Her words linger as a delicate piano melody begins to play, and when the strings rise over it, there’s a strange beauty that sends a chill through you, as if the music itself is grieving what she’s saying. Then, without warning, the moment collapses as you hear the distinct click and whir of a tape recorder being ejected, cutting the sound off completely and leaving only her final words: “It’s over”. It’s an eerie, cinematic opening that pulls you straight into the heart of Flowers.
Where the Flowers Never Grow blooms directly out of That Same Place, written to complete it with intent and precision. Released to the public on August 21, it’s easily one of my favourite tracks on the album, maybe even across their entire discography. The melodies between the two pieces mirror each other in a way that makes the transition feel effortless. It took me a second to put two and two together, but when I realised that the titles themselves combine into the lyric “that same place where the flowers never grow,” it all made sense, making both tracks feel like one thought unfolding across two movements.
Everybody Knows and So Low capture everything I love about the group's vocal dynamic. The same lyrics seemingly carry two meanings depending on who delivers it: DePoyster taking the clean vocals with a quiet ache that feels deeply human, while still executed with a certain kind of rage. Hranica, on the other hand, cuts through with a sudden burst of intensity that shifts everything, whether it be echoed words like an inner voice that won’t quiet down, or a complete slice of raw desperation. In a scene where repetition is easy, The Devil Wears Prada prove they’re still capable of creating something that feels alive and unpredictable.
For You is one of the most emotional moments on Flowers, where love and pain bleed into each other. Lines like “You can bury me and I’ll leave flowers for you at my tomb” carry a quiet devastation that feels even heavier live. When I saw it performed, the entire crowd sang every word with raw conviction, voices cracking under the weight of it. In that room, the song became something bigger, a moment of release that pulled everyone into the same heartbeat.
All Out bursts open with a thick, chugging riff and rapid blast beats that hit like a shockwave. Amid the chaos, strings slip into the mix, adding an unexpected elegance to the aggression. The song builds with intensity before collapsing into a crushing final breakdown that feels both destructive and cathartic, closing the track with pure release.
Photo Credit: Wyatt Clough
Ritual has been a staple since its release in March 2024, quickly becoming a fan favourite with millions of streams. The song explores the exhaustion of routine and the strange comfort we find in it. Through lines like “How do you hope when everyone lies?” and “Let’s live for the ritual,” The Devil Wears Prada captures that feeling of being trapped in repetition yet unwilling to let it go. It’s a song about surrendering to the cycle, knowing it might be destructive, but finding meaning in it anyway.
When You’re Gone carries the same thread of connection found earlier in the album. The lyric “I can’t see the sky behind the rain” hints at what’s coming, tying the songs together with care. Hranica’s voice grows more strained as the track builds toward its breakdown, every word pulled tight with emotion. As the final notes fade, faint cell phone interference crackles through the mix, like someone trying to reach out but never quite connecting.
That call is answered in The Sky Behind the Rain, a brief but powerful interlude that lasts just over a minute. Through the static, a voice says softly, “Hi babe, I miss you. Just wanted to hear your voice... I’m just starting to feel really empty.” It sounds distant and ghostly, the same riff from the previous track replaying cleanly beneath electronic drums. Minimal yet heavy with feeling, it captures a moment of loneliness suspended in time, a voice reaching across the void, hoping to be heard.
The Silence blends retro synths with modern metalcore, standing out as a distinct track off the album. “Leave me with the silence, I don’t wanna be found” floats over pulsing electronics, while Hranica’s screams layer behind DePoyster’s cleans. It’s brief, experimental, and refreshingly different.
Eyes feels like the point where everything unravels and begins to make sense all at once. Hranica’s voice carries a desperate need to see clearly, to understand what’s real as he repeats, “It’s all happening again and again.” The song spirals between revelation and chaos, blurring the lines between heaven and hell, system and surrender.
In the video, Mike and Jeremy move through a maze as puppets, lost but searching. They pause at flowers growing through the cracks, a fragile beauty amid confusion. A devil puppet watches from afar, menacing but detached, following throughout the maze. Amidst the panic, the pair are separated, navigating the dark corners and fleeing an inevitable evil, until they’re reunited and the tone shifts. Mike is lifted into the air, strings tightening as Jeremy looks on in disbelief. Then, the camera tilts upward. A pair of eyes stares down, the true puppeteer revealed. Even the devil looks confused, powerless under the same gaze.
It’s a haunting image, a reminder that what we fear isn’t always the thing pulling the strings. Sometimes the truth was there all along, waiting for us to finally open our eyes.
Cure Me is a gritty, emotional anthem with a fast beat facade that collides with devastating lyrics. Punchy drums combined with more luscious synths allow space for the breathy vocals that plead “I’ll take a dose of clarity, you can have your make believe. Blinded by a remedy, but there's no cure for me”. Wave rolls in with an airy, shimmering riff, pulling back on the energy and trading it for more docile nature. The strings punched me in the gut as they ring true in the bridge, easing out the song tenderly as the tears threaten to fall.
But before you can get too comfortable with the melancholy, the final track, My Paradise, picks you back up with a synth drenched melody. The synth begins by playing in reverse for the first half of the song, before slamming the other way gutturally as the bridge begins. This emotional winding paired with Depoyster singing “I’ll just sit back, let this life pass me by, cause there’s something about waiting that makes me feel alive. I’m done searching for things I’ll never find, maybe this mediocrity is my paradise,” is an overwhelmingly beautiful conclusion to this body of work.
“Maybe happiness is just what you get when you stop trying to be happy.”
— Atticus Poetry
That line captures both My Paradise and the heart of Flowers. It is an album about letting go and finding peace in imperfection, about learning to breathe within the weight of it all. This record feels like a true reflection of that journey: mature, raw and deeply human. I’ve listened to it more times than I can count, not to take notes or analyse anything, but simply because I wanted to; It reminds me why I fell in love with heavy music in the first place.