“Black Clouds” begins as if from nowhere, a murmur rising out of darkness before finding its slow, deliberate rhythm. Bastien Pons constructs sound as though he were shaping clay, compressing texture and tone until they become something nearly tangible. The collaboration with Frank Zozky brings a fragile humanity to the work. His voice is faint, yet it hovers in the air like a breath that refuses to fade.
The track does not follow a conventional path. Instead of movement, there is suspension. Instead of melody, there is gravity. Pons allows noise to bloom into quiet, building a sense of pressure that feels both comforting and uncertain. The electronic layers crackle softly, while deeper tones hum beneath, giving the impression of an unseen landscape moving just beyond reach.
Every second feels deliberate, guided by the same patience that defines his photography. Light and shadow translate into sound here, and the result is cinematic in its intimacy. The absence of rhythm becomes its own pulse, a kind of inner heartbeat that carries the listener forward.
When it fades, you are left with an awareness of space and breath. It is not an ending but a dissolving, as if the sound continues somewhere beyond the speakers. “Black Clouds” is less a song to hear than an experience to enter, one that lingers quietly long after the last note evaporates.