Cloud Cult - Advice From the Happy Hippopotamus

Ah yes, the Happy Hippo. What a mystical creature. One so filled with tales of mortality and confusion, and yet, so optimistic. At first, the Happy Hippo is a little intimidating, but once you get to know him, you realize that you want to just live inside of it for awhile (probably kind of like this Time article about a man being eaten by a hippo). And I'm here to say this: Yes. Let the Happy Hippo devour you. You might end up with a few broken ribs and some internal bleeding, but in the end, you'll realize that the Hippo has loved you all along.

My metaphor might be a little over the top, but that's just how Cloud Cult's Advice from the Happy Hippopotamus is, and that might be why I love it. Actually, "over the top" might just be the best way to describe Cloud Cult as a band. They're the band with live painting on stage during their shows. They're the band that records on an organic farm run by geothermal heating. They're the band that makes an album with 25 tracks and hides three of them in long sets of silence. That album happens to be Advice from the Hippopotamus, an album that blends death and longing with optimism in a way that is... well... pretty amazing, in my honest opinion. And if there's a band qualified to write music like this, it's Cloud Cult.

On the surface, Hippopotamus is a collection of gritty indie rock songs with eccentric instrumentation and sappy lyrics. Underneath, it's pretty much the same, but with a slight variation on the second part, depending on the listener. If you can dig a good indie rock album, then you've probably become accustomed to the kind of quirky lyrics that weave in and out of this album. Having said that, comparing the lyricism on Advice from the Happy Hippopotamus to your average indie anthem would be a huge disservice to anyone that might read this. 

Lead singer Craig Minowa adds a sense of grandiosity to the aspects of humanity that seem trivial or even negative. It's an exploration of mortality, from the years of your childhood to the moments of your death, or, possibly more accurately, the death of the people around you. But this exploration doesn't take place on the deathbed, it takes place in the bike rides and early loves of your childhood. "I have sailed through hurricanes with just a wooden plank and a smiley face," sings Minowa on "Clip-Clop," "and it took me somewhere that I don't know. And I'll not be stranded here this time, 'cause I've found escape is a state of mind."  It's a reminder to appreciate love and a reminder to appreciate rejection. It's a lesson in enjoying life and a lesson in embracing tragedy.

I won't try to pretend that I know a thing about mortality, but at the very least I'd like to think that I learned something from this album. 

-Kane