In "Sometimes," Omo Cloud carves out a gorgeously haunting space between memory and release. The track, from their debut album "Mausoleum," is an emotional aftershock. Channeling the raw poignancy of indie rock alongside the hazy textures of trip-hop and the weighty emotional atmospherics of alternative rock, Omo Cloud (the moniker of non-binary musician Cole De La Isla) offers a slow-burning meditation on the ache of moving on.
Constructed like a ghost in motion, the song floats on faraway vocals, eerie guitar loops, and a rhythm that never quite lands, a thought that keeps returning no matter how many times you try to swat it away. There's a beautiful disorientation here, the feeling of leafing through the pages of a diary that is not your own and at the same time is. It feels intimate and expansive at once, a rare emotional tension that drags you in even before you consent.
Omo Cloud's youth in a musical family is one that wasn't just raised on studio sessions, but also on Radiohead, Wilco, and David Bowie playing in the background. This is evident not only in sound but also in instinct. There's a reserved mastery in how this track withholds, then lays bare. It's patient, it listens to itself, and it dares to endure discomfort until it comes to catharsis.
"Sometimes" arises from the ashes of something intensely personal, such as pandemic isolation, deep therapy, or the slow crawl of healing. It provides you with a soft landing. It's the hour of that title, of demise and adieu, just as its title implies. "Mausoleum" is about preservation. This is about respecting the past without being beholden to it. For anyone who has ever felt fractured, faded, or forgotten, "Sometimes" is for you. It does not purport to fix anything, but it will sit with you, echoing the pain, the peace, and the possibility of what comes next.