The road to the new Minowa homestead near Viroqua, Wis., winds out of town and weaves between green valley bluffs with all the elegance and drama of a Cloud Cult string arrangement. The house sits on the bed of a former rock quarry, under a cliff that cuts into the hillside with all the abruptness of the band's rocky rhythms. The path behind the home splits off into two distinct destinations: a thick, dark, shadowy forest and an open meadow aglow with wildflowers and sunlight.
Cloud Cult leader Craig Minowa regularly walked his 15 acres during the making of his band's most meticulously crafted album. You can easily guess which path he most often took just by the title of the record, "Light Chasers," which finally hit stores this week.
"It'd have been pretty hard to sound depressed with all this," Minowa said.
Part outdoor retreat, band camp and family reunion, the idyllic scene at Cloud Cult HQ during a visit in late July was as revealing as it was rejuvenating. And that was despite the band's struggles that day with its new, futuristic, in-ear sound system, which would lead to an awkward 10-minute delay during its set the following weekend at St. Paul's Lowertown Music Fest.
All eight members of the truly cult-loved, gender-balanced, environmentally pioneering orchestral rock band met up before the fest for two days of rehearsals in the Minowa garage and its adjoining studio, both of which open up to views of the cliff and flowers. The same view greeted the musicians as they reunited from a possible band-ending hiatus to make "Light Chasers" over the winter and spring.
Describing those sessions, bassist Shawn Neary feigned boredom as if it were every band's normal process: "I drove down, recorded, hiked around, took in the grandeur."
In July, the grandest sight of all was Nova, the bright-eyed and ridiculously laid-back son of Craig and his wife/bandmate Connie. Nova's birth in October figured as heavily in the writing of "Light Chasers" as did the death of his older brother, Kaidin, in Cloud Cult's five previous albums.
"This is the first record I can listen to and only cry a little bit," Connie Minowa said, one of the few moments at the Viroqua meet-up that didn't end in laughter. "[It's] the first one I can listen to in the car and rock out, instead of having to set aside a day to listen to it and grieve afterward."