Published in the Quad-City Times on Aug. 7, 2024

Minnehaha Park in Minneapolis is one of my favorite places in America. It’s serene, speckled with emerald oak trees and gravel pathways, centered around a hole-in-the-ground waterfall.

It’s also an anomaly. How could a park so lush and organically overgrown exist two miles from an international airport? Five miles from an NFL football stadium? Six miles from the nation’s biggest shopping mall?

An urban jungle surrounds this real one. Old railroad tracks loom over the top of the Minnehaha walkways. Metal and moss merge into one. This duality defines the Twin Cities, so it feels like no coincidence that it also aligns with the sound of St. Paul-born band Hippo Campus, a pop-rock group who exploded to indie fame with 2017’s “Landmark.”

The four-piece act has songs that are equal parts aspen and asphalt. The inspiration often comes from their hometown, Hippo Campus guitarist Nathan Stocker said in a Friday interview from a 62-degree media trailer, at the piping hot Hinterland Music Festival in Saint Charles, Iowa.

“For me, that’s really important in those moments where I’m looking for jumping-off points of inspiration,” he said, speaking with calculated pauses before each word. 

Hippo Campus is releasing their fourth full-length album, “Flood,” on Sept. 20. The album’s press release calls it Hippo Campus’ best one yet, and the killer singles “Everything At Once” and “Paranoid” make a compelling case.

But lead singer Jake Luppen disagrees with the tagline.

“I think the idea of best anything is ridiculous,” he said, sitting across from Stocker, looking his bandmate’s way for a nod or a laugh.

This is not Hippo Campus’ best album, he says. But it is the best Hippo Campus. That matters even more.

Ahead of “Flood,” the band got sober together, processed the grief of a close friend together, and went to group therapy together. Asked about that last part, the band’s disconnect with the “Flood” public relations push becomes apparent once more.

“Did that make it in the press release?” Luppen asked, with a frustrated chuckle. “That’s unfortunate.”

But still, the two were candid in their answers. Luppen said the group has performed in a state of “arrested development,” since they’ve been on stage together since they were teens. Stocker said the therapy was necessary, because the last few years have had some “not so flattering moments.” 

That’s when Luppen corrected him, asserting they are no Metallica. There is no drama. This is just a group of friends figuring out how to grow together after the warm glow of inception has worn off. 

It’s working.

“We’re the healthiest that we’ve been,” Luppen said. “And I could see us going a lot longer, having done the work we’ve put in now. I couldn’t when we were 23 and just running off of sheer adrenaline, fear and excitement.”

Longevity is the goal now for Hippo Campus. There is no tier above their current level of fame that they want to reach, so they now measure success in moments.

“There’s a space that we tap into when we’re playing music together that is very unique to this group of people, that fulfills us in a very deep way,” Luppen said.

“There’s been moments when (that feeling) has dwindled and felt low, but I think success for us is preserving that.”

You could see it on stage at Hinterland, when Stocker and Luppen pushed each other around during opener “Yippie Ki Yay,” stumbling like kids on a playground. While playing “Flood” single “Tooth Fairy,” Stocker’s tatted arms bounced like an antsy teenager’s tapping on a wooden desk.

Toward the end of my interview with Hippo Campus, we talked about those tattoos — both Luppen and Stocker have sporadic sleeves of trees, vases and faces. But they also have one piece of ink in common: a zip code on their side that everyone in Hippo Campus got inked.

“That one means a lot for sentimental reasons,” Luppen said.

The five digits almost certainly harken to their Twin Cities roots, but Hippo Campus won’t confirm it. I ask anyway, looking for the stuff you can’t find on a press release, and Stocker declines.

“That’s all you get to know.”

While playing “South,” one of the band’s earliest hits, there was a huge crowd reaction at Hinterland on Friday. There was also a complacency in Luppen’s eyes, and I can’t blame him. He’s played this one many times. He’ll play it again at Lollapalooza the next day.

Underneath that look, though, was a certain satisfaction, a sort of permanent smirk. That must be the feeling, the home they sing of in “The Halocline.” The best Hippo Campus yet.