Broken melodies and off-cuts of R&B are fed through syrup-y effects chains in this cloud folk release

Listening to Forever Young, the enigmatic release from Betty Hammerschlag, might be one of the first times we encounter “cloud folk”, a burgeoning online genre. It’s a sound where Yung Sherman sampling meets Daniel Johnston guitar, and emotional tell-alls glide through messy autotune.

Though Forever Young in its entirety is instructive, Tell U Truth and Real are two tracks that showcase one side of this genre at its clearest. Riding the waves of echoing acoustics are fascinating samples, syrup-y trap vocals and lilting guitar collide, forming a hypnotic sound palette. Creating the vibes from new age folk music, complemented by the inclusion of modern R&B samples.

Through the effects, there is a personal story being told. The soul of it, though, is packaged so intriguingly in off-cut trappy vocals and pitch-perfect crooning. Painting the memory about this plaintive, yet personal meeting between friends. Switching through locations and moments that occurred in Betty’s mind. This, more personal iteration of cloud folk is most audible in opener Sweet Pills. Heartachingly personal, but fed through a saccharine chain of DAW manipulation.

Setting the stage for those clear moments with friends that she has met, solidifying memories in a cloudy amber. The release is a perfect example of an interesting new genre, but it’s a delicate personal diary too, to be handled with care.

Soft folk atmospherics fill the dense space of Just*** and Charlotte & Pia. Pillowy melodies put the listener into a dreamy daze, yet the blurry autotuned moans keep them awake. Disorienting effects push a strange hyper-modern humanity to the forefront as angsty instruments play into swirling soundscapes.

Trasher Fun is a title feels apt in describing how Betty Hammerschlag creates the core of cloud folk. Plugins and sample are dumped into the DAW carrying a poignant acoustic track, forming this cloud of sad musing around every strum and cadence that’s being performed. It’s homespun and charming while the voice feels artificially enhanced. Musically noodly, but emotionally attentive.

On My Wayyy, the album closer, reverbed guitars are heard coasting around faded singing. It’s the fitting final soundtrack to the overall story. Cutting from the early friendly hangout to a late swim in the warm lake. It’s a flash of a moment before it turns to a dreamy lilac, now fading into the scene on the bus ride, watching a video of a man living his undisturbed, idyllic life. The still finality of this sequence of events. The vocals are a drifting memory that Betty Hammerschlag is laying within this repetitive guitar riff. A shroud of folky trills as pure emotion breaches a digitally-heavy soundscape.