With Flowers, The Devil Wears Prada step further than ever from their metalcore origins, embracing a sound that is atmospheric, melancholic, emotionally heavy, and — at times — startlingly gentle. The shift is unmistakable from the opening minutes of “That Same Place.” A tape-recorded monologue drifts in like a memory you’re afraid to revisit, joined by soft piano notes and slow-blooming violin lines. Instead of the explosive breakdowns that once defined the band, the album opens with longing, fragility, and carefully restrained emotion. It’s a clear sign that Prada are no longer chasing brutality — they’re chasing resonance.

That transformation becomes fully realized on “Where The Flowers Never Grow,” a massive, alt-rock anthem that feels built for arenas. Bouncy guitar lines, groovy bass, and muted, almost airy screams give the track a buoyancy reminiscent of Bring Me The Horizon’s Sempiternal-era evolution. It’s catchy without being shallow, big without being bloated, and polished in a way that still feels heartfelt. Only near the end does Prada unleash a taste of their earlier identity — harsher vocals and a breakdown that crashes in like a reminder of who they used to be — but the journey there is unmistakably rock-forward.

That balancing act—old instincts versus new ambitions—defines the entire record. “Everybody Knows” embraces full-on radio-rock gloss, its clean vocals soaring above wide-open production. “So Low” strips things down even further, leaning on deep synth swells, minimalist drumming, and a slow emotional burn that’s beautiful but sometimes too restrained to leave a lasting mark.

Throughout the album, Prada repeatedly return to a softer, more atmospheric palette. “For You,” “Ritual,” “The Silence,” and “Cure Me” float on gentle builds, airy synths, and washed-out vocal layers. At their best, these tracks feel dreamlike and vulnerable — but at their weakest, they blend into each other, the softness becoming predictable rather than impactful. The exploration of quietness is admirable, but the middle stretch of the album occasionally sinks into a sameness that lacks the urgency that once made Prada so commanding.

When the band taps into the emotional core of this new sound, however, the payoff is huge. “When You’re Gone” delivers one of the album’s heaviest emotional punches, its simplicity allowing the lyrics and vocal performance to breathe. “The Sky Behind The Rain” brings a warm, dreamy ’90s interlude vibe that feels like a gentle exhale after a long, tense buildup. These moments prove that Prada’s softer direction can land with incredible weight when the songwriting is sharp.

Thankfully, the band hasn’t abandoned heaviness altogether. “All Out” bursts with refreshed energy — tighter drumming, thick guitar accents, and a sense of momentum largely missing from the album’s softer tracks. “Eyes” finally offers the balance the record keeps reaching for: soft introspection blooming into a bold, swelling chorus supported by strong bass presence and textured synth work. “Wave” quietly builds into something emotionally resonant and feels like a smaller, more personal climax.

The album closes with “My Paradise,” one of the strangest and most distinct tracks here, driven by a techno-influenced beat and cinematic synth lifts. It ends the record with scale and drama, though the screamed vocals feel more obligatory than organically earned — as if Prada felt compelled to remind listeners they can still scream, even when the song’s emotional arc doesn’t quite call for it.

Across Flowers, The Devil Wears Prada experiment with softness, sadness, patience, and atmosphere more boldly than ever. At its strongest, the album delivers beautiful, stadium-ready rock songs and deeply emotional reflections that mark genuine growth. At its weakest, it drifts into repetitive softness and loses the edge that once made them electrifying.

Flowers is ambitious, expressive, and full of emotional gravity — but also uneven. When Prada bloom, they bloom with real beauty and depth. When they wilt, they fade into a blur of similar tones. It’s a thoughtful, sometimes stunning, sometimes frustrating chapter in the band’s evolving story — one that proves they are still searching, still transforming, and still willing to risk comfort for honesty.