If I could go back to this show and change one thing, I'd simply cut out the second band. Ice Palace, the first group, were clearly friends of Cloud Cult: they play melodic pop with plenty of instruments from the orchestra pit. Gleeful and engaging, Ice Palace managed their elements in such a way that highlighted their songs’ complexities without losing sight of needed structure. Perhaps all that needs to be said is that I bought their album after their set. The youngest portion of the room shrieked as soon as band #2 Margot and the Nuclear So & So’s took the stage. After a couple songs, I couldn’t understand why. The only energy they exerted was a result of the sheer number of instruments onstage, which left songs sounding messy and confusing. This band plays self-serious pop, and it didn’t work. My friend, in his infinite wisdom, decided the only thing worthwhile about MNS&S was their “really hot keyboard player.”
Cloud Cult’s set started off rocky, with some sound malfunctions stemming from a cable that didn’t connect to anything, but as frontman Craig Minowa said, “I can feel this is going to be a great show. They’re always great when the beginning doesn’t work.” The band soon proved him right. After a couple songs, they were swooped into a fantastic energy flow, reinforiced by the audience’s rapturous attention and enthusiastic singing. They played songs exclusively from their last three albums and focused particularly on their latest, 2008’s Feel Good Ghosts. They've clearly tightened up their live chops since the last time I saw them (TMT Interview) -- strings took an appropriately prominent role and each member was attuned to every other, the perfect formula for doing justice to their profoundly humanizing music.
As we walked outside, my friend said he was pretty sure he saw God during the final minutes. I wouldn’t go that far, but I would agree that Cloud Cult’s set was nothing short of breathtaking. I rode the Metro home feeling proud to be alive, which is probably the best thing a show can leave you with.
