Review by Allie LaRoe
Alchemy Creek feels like a conversation—the kind that starts a few hours into a road trip and becomes a core memory in a lifelong friendship. With meaningful observations delivered between stretches of sonic scenery, Cloud Cult’s latest release explores optimism in a reality thick with disappointment and uncertainty.
The opening track, “Got Your Backpack Open That Backdoor,” invites listeners to experience an altered perception. Layers of acoustic guitar, piano, and strings spiral, dynamically ascending and swooping. The melody circles like an observant hawk before perching on a rhythmic guitar line.
“We don’t have to do this anymore / though the beginning looks a whole lot like the end,” sings Craig Minowa. There is a sense of relief in the realization, even as it remains unclear what is ending or beginning. His songwriting is both confessional and relatable, with a vocal delivery that is often hushed unless the content demands more. However, the emotional impact transcends the lyrics, with instrumentally dominant tracks scattered throughout the list, leaving space to process and feel.
Some of the songs, like “The Universe Woke Up As You,” grapple with the responsibilities of adulthood in a world that is far from what you imagined. Lyrics such as “Try to feel like everything’s okay even though so much isn’t right” resonate even more deeply given the challenges presented under this new administration. This sentiment is familiar to Cloud Cult’s Millennial and Gen X listeners. It’s hard to believe how different the future appeared less than a decade ago. Much of the lyrical narrative delves into the connection between personal development and collective pressures. There exists a sense of acceptance alongside a burgeoning transformation.
In “One Human Being,” the tension between inner experience and the outer world is particularly clear as Minowa sings, “I don’t care if you call me a fool for hoping for more than I am seeing/but something tells me we are made for more than we are being,” before returning to a chorus that concludes, “but I can only love you / if I first learn to love me and / this whole thing’s out of my control / except one human being.”
“Tonight I Run Away” and “Let It All Out” both feature limited vocal lines that function more as chants. These songs serve as a rest stop, allowing listeners to simply experience the emotions evoked without the need to think in words or engage with a deeper message. It’s these instrumental expanses that prevent Alchemy Creek from feeling like eavesdropping on someone else’s therapy session. This highlights a common challenge in sincere songwriting: how to draw from personal experience while still creating space for listeners to hear themselves within the music.
“Something In Me Is Changing” drops the philosophical pretense and bares its teeth. It is a plainspoken hymn to the agony of transformation. The song starts with a fluttering arrangement of gently plucked guitar strings and chittering rim clicks before a layered vocal states, “Did you know it doesn’t take much gasoline to burn this f***** down / And I know it hurts like hell, but the new you is ready to break out.” The delivery is refreshingly blunt—a needle that quickly pops the temptation to try to step around the mucky reality that change (and life) doesn’t have to feel good in order to BE good.
The one I have on repeat is the third track, “I Am A Force Field.” Dynamically potent despite its simple instrumental arrangement, the vocal hooks you in from the opening line: “Call me Christopher Robin/ going to solve all of my problems/ with imaginary friends / who are there when I need them…” The chorus beckons with increasing urgency: “There’s a little kid inside me / Trying to remind me / That I am a force field.” If you find yourself driving a deserted mountain road after dark, this song is perfect for screaming along to.
Cloud Cult’s Alchemy Creek guides you through an emotional journey without getting tangled in self-importance or navel-gazing. Its power lies, in part, in the willingness to explore the wilderness of grief, anger, and disappointment—feelings we’ve learned to hide, even from ourselves. However, it doesn’t dwell there. Instead, it transmutes that ache into something beautiful that can be treasured for decades to come. As the final tones of “Different Kind of Day” drift into silence, it feels as if you’ve turned the bend into a delicate dawn, alive with possibility.
Comments