Cloud Cult
The Meaning Of 8

THE REVIEW

In summary: a band from Minneapolis, Minnesota, led by Craig Minowa, on their fifth album. Nineteen tracks, American indie-rock style, between Modest Mouse, Beck, The Broken Family Band, Flaming Lips, Neutral Milk Hotel. Great variety, a rich array of instruments, use of synths and electronic drums, although sharp Modest Mouse-like riffs predominate (as in the pleasant "Please Remain Calm"), occasionally softened by bells, choirs, and Minowa's childlike voice ("Chemicals Collide"). Songs are often short, very quirky, which sometimes seem to slip out of the band's hands like balloons, with inspiration wandering elsewhere. But the moments of stagnation, on balance, are scarce, and even the tracks that seem more confused and tangled regularly find their redemption.

It is clear that this is a band from the extreme underground, so much so that if you order their CD at a store with imported material, you still have to wait for some gray hairs of resignation to grow before you can enjoy the satisfaction of touching it. You will find, however, a colorful and woody object, since Cloud Cult supports an ecological label with commendable commitment. It is also clear that the meaning of 'eight' remains unattainable, as the essence of the album, revolving around philosophical and religious themes, then ends up struggling with unsettling regularity over the theme of loss: Minowa lost his two-year-old son in 2002 for inexplicable reasons, at night; this led to an immediate divorce from his wife.

Every album by Cloud Cult is an obsessive attempt to reconstruct meaning around things, from the most domestic to, as here, the most symbolic. This is why their indie-rock often takes on, perhaps even for just ten seconds, a chilling and disturbed aura, like when something resurfaces in the mind that you immediately try to push away. Listen to "2×2×2", for instance, when the drums suddenly thicken, becoming monolithic, like the distortion of a nightmare. Or the spectacular "A Girl Underground", where a flute accompanies a fleeting tale about love between the living and the dead.

The last track on the album, "Song Of The Deaf Girl", consists of a minute and a half of silence; the first time you hear it, if someone hasn't already told you (as I've done) that it's a minute and a half of silence, you remain constantly expecting something to happen at some point, because in all the other tracks there's a hidden surprise, a mutation, a deviation, in a very Arcade Fire style (see "Pretty Voice"). You expect the deaf girl to miraculously hear something (or to produce something? Is the song written by or listened to by the deaf girl? Or does it talk about her?). When you hear that annoying sound of the CD reaching its end and getting angry with the stereo (pss), expectations collapse. Nothing ever happens. For a moment, you think the album is made up of eighteen songs. But then you think, no, the songs are nineteen. There's always the final twist. The meaning of 8.

Beyond any philosophy: an original album.

Freddy fell in love with a girl underground
He was only 8 years old when he started digging down
Singing "I love you more than you know"