Perched on the quiet bluffs above Wisconsin's Apple River, the iconic Rapson “Glass Cube” recently played host to a collaborative invasion by the Minneapolis-based band “Greycoats”, videographer Nate Matson, and numerous roadies. The event was part of Nate’s recent project “Spaces”, a series of music videos highlighting popular bands within their creative process; this was a foray out of the studio and into a visual and radical sound box.

Not only were the resident eagles soaring close for a curious look, a passing thunderstorm layered in some serious sound effects sure to please. We hope the sound man found its rumbling as opportune as we did, as we thought they added wonderfully to Greycoat’s engaging style that City Pages writer Rob Van Alstyne said shows an “appetite for the unusual”.

Ralph Rapson would have been intrigued by the use of what he considered his place of retreat. For over 30 years he welcomed others to share in its beauty and experience the tangible influence the rolling hills and his “cube” within those hills impart on the consciousness.  Adding in a little great music was a wonderful new twist. The fact that Greycoats are effectively the in-house band for high-energy Rapson retailer Forage Modern Workshop made the whole idea of the recorded jam session just too cool to pass up.

Lead singer Jon Reine appears contemplative and content while “taking five” in the Rapson Cave Chair by Loll Designs.      

The Rapson family has a new-found appreciation for the amount of equipment necessary to record, film, light, and create beautiful music. In turn, I hope the crew is appreciative of the clapping (for the great music) and slapping (as a result of the mosquito invasion that took place after hauling in and out said equipment). I fondly remember Ralph harping—“quick, close the screen doors before the local population joins us”. Thanks, Greycoats (Jon, Titus, Mike, and Matt) for an interesting day, and of course, thanks to Ralph for providing a great hang-out.

Nate Matson and the Greycoats setting up.