| It's
All About Semisonic Power chords and pop hooks alone do not a band make. It takes that intangible something known as chemistry – which happens to be the title and the topic of Semisonic's new single, from the Minneapolis band's newest release, All About Chemistry. Though he's singing about a different kind of chemical reaction – a sexual one – front man Dan Wilson certainly knows the value of the musical version. In his previous band incarnation as a member of Trip Shakespeare, the elements were there, but that all-important catalyst to success – record-buyers – wasn't. With Semisonic, Wilson, bassist John Munson (another Trip Shakespeare alum) and drummer Jacob Slichter devised a stronger formula, one that's proving irresistible. Their sonic compound – tuneful pop combined with inventive musicianship and a little studio wizardly here and there – was revealed on 1996's Great Divide, which contains the seductive cuts “F.N.T.” and “Delicious.” With their next effort, Feeling Strangely Fine, the band found the heat necessary to achieve fusion with the public. It came in the form of two hits: “Secret Smile” and the Grammy-nominated late-night bar anthem “Closing Time,” and pushed Semisonic to double-platinum status. All About Chemistry is poised to trigger another reaction, though Wilson hesitates to offer theories about its prospects. “It's impossible for me to predict,” he said via telephone from New York City, where the band had just performed at Irving Plaza after a brief U.K. tour. “I thought that Great Divide was chock full of hits and it became a kind of a critics' pick. I thought then that I should sort of suspend all thought of hits and singles and whatnot, and so we did Feeling Strangely Fine, which became, like, a 2-million-selling, crazily-change-everything album. So now Chemistry is done and … I've been so wrong in the past about (what) the stature of these things might be that I don't even have a guess. I do think it's got a couple of things that are the best (songs) we've ever done.” Though he regards “Act Naturally,” “Bed” and "Follow,” as possible singles, his personal favorites, in addition to “Naturally,” include “She's Got My Number” and “I Wish,” However, early fan response to the disc, as discussed on the band's Web site bulletin board, indicates the slyly humorous “Get A Grip” is the popular pick. Harvard graduate Wilson, a husband and father of a 3-year-old, told a UK magazine, “My dream is for it to be hailed as one of the greatest songs about wanking ever written.” In what might be considered a sequel to “Closing Time,” he sings, “When the lights come on and the party's through, there are always a few with nobody to do.” “Chemistry” is filled with sexual references; besides the sort-of-title tune and “Grip,” there's “Sunshine and Chocolate” and “Bed.” Songwriter Wilson demurs, “Everybody's talking about how sexy this new album (is), but the last album had ‘I want to see you come, come completely pleased.'” He says he thinks because the new album is more “groovy,” with more of a good-time vibe and less introspection, its sexiness might be more obvious. That could be true, but this disc also has a slightly less subtle lyrical bent than the band's previous releases. Still, it's certainly not done in the lowest-common-denominator vein some bands use. “I just can't deliver a song like, you know, ‘Back that ass up' or whatever,” Wilson says. “… Although I think getting hit over the head seems to be what people really want.” Well, maybe some people. Others, like songwriting legend Carole King, can appreciate a clever twist of phrase. She liked the band's work enough to engage in some collaboration with Wilson, which resulted in the tune, “One True Love,” on which King also contributed electric piano and vocals to Wilson's own high voice. Wilson says that effort was the result of his attempt to climb “way outside of the modern rock box.” He put the word out that he wanted to try writing with someone else, and a music publisher suggested his friend King. “He said, ‘Are you interested, Dan?' Like I told somebody recently, that's like saying, ‘Well, we have a goddess coming down from Mount Olympus. Do you want to meet her or not?' Duh. Of course I do!” Wilson claims their experiment went very well. “I would come up with something and she'd know exactly where I was going, and vice-versa,” he explains. “… I thought we had a real – what's the word? – a real rapport musically.” Hey Dan, that word? It also could be … well, you know. - Lynne Margolis March 6, 2001 original article at http://virginmega.com/default.asp?aid=3CA |
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| Muse
Press Online Jake Slichter from Semisonic explains his love for Stevie Wonder and John Lennon. "I have two heroes, John Lennon and Stevie Wonder. Asking me where I heard of them first is like asking me where I heard about oxygen. They're just there. As far as my world is concerned they are two of the elements which make up the physical universe. Of all The Beatles stuff my favourite is "Sergeant Pepper". I'm a big fan of "Plastic Ono Band" as well. I love "Double Fantasy" as well, although I can't listen to the record without feeling really sad and thinking of all that happened. I didn't know he'd been shot until the next day. I'd spent all night working at my piano in the basement. My friend made some reference to it. I turned on the radio and all I heard for the next week was Beatles and Lennon records. It was like a family member had been shot. It's amazing how someone you've never met or seen in person can be such an influence. "My favourite Stevie Wonder album is "Fulfillingness First Finale". It's a really introspective spiritual record. I saw him once in San Francisco. It's one of those shows where you go 'how many great songs can one guy write?' What a voice. You hear a lot of people on the radio today who sound like Stevie Wonder, but they sound like a certain vintage of Stevie Wonder whereas he sounds like all those voices." Semisonic support Texas at the Point, Dublin, on 16 February. original article at http://www.muse.ie/160201/interview/semi.html |
Live: Semisonic
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SEMISONIC: Mercury Lounge, New York, March 4, 1998 So you're Semisonic, an unassuming rock trio from Minneapolis whose major label debut, 1996's Great Divide, showcased a dozen potential breakthrough hit singles which connected with critics and a small following of enlightened fans, but really didn't do squat commercially. A lesser band might hang up the guitars and hit the classifieds, but because you're Semisonic and can't walk two feet without stubbing your toes on another perfect pop song, you give a collective shrug, kick up a dozen more brilliant, just- add-radio singles Noel Gallagher would sell his brother for and polish off the appropriately titled Feeling Strangely Fine. Very strangely fine indeed. The album, due March 24, is a marvel; and judging from Semisonic's phenomenal performance tonight before a packed crowd of early believers, 1998 will indubitably be their year. At least it damn well better be, because if it isn't we can go ahead and hammer that last nail into the fast-sinking coffin of American rock worth believing in. Granted, that's just the sort of hyperbolic, next-big-thing b.s. that singer/guitarist Dan Wilson seemed to slyly address in the set opening "f.n.t.," the deliriously giddy Great Divide love song spiked with the lines "Fascinating |
new
thing/The scene-makin'/Want a temporary savior ... I'm surprised that you'venever
been told before/That you're lovely and you're perfect ... even when you
are not new." Point taken, although Wilson could bait anything imaginable
on that hook and odds are it would be swallowed just as quickly. And the hooks kept coming, as sharp and immediate on their new songs as on last year's modest radio hit, "If I Run." "Closing Time," "Singing in My Sleep," and "DND" were the obvious standouts, although the best-of-show ribbon went to the piano-driven "Never You Mind," a bizarre amalgam of classic Beatles, Beach Boys, Elton John, Queen, and an old Star Trek episode in which -- to loosely paraphrase Wilson's pre-song explanation -- "Spock's mind falls apart and Dr. McCoy can't remember how to fix him." This ties in, somehow, to the song's theme of old feuds petering out long after the original argument is forgotten. In truth, the Spock reference is so obscure it seems like a superfluous afterthought, and yet, true to the casual genius which runs through virtually all of Semisonic's work, that afterthought becomes the song's crowning glory. No less impressive than the songs themselves was the band'snatural stage finesse. Drummer Jacob Slichter, grinning |
goonishly
throughout the entire set, dexterously tapped out the keyboard line to "Singing
in My Sleep" with his right hand while keeping time on his snare with his
left. He also manned the loops and canned effects, the liberal use of which
might have been disturbing had it not complemented the band's sound so well.
Bassist John Munson displayed a deft hand at both slinky melodic lines and
fat, Godzilla-sized classic rock grooves, and turned on the funk full blast
to lead the band on a loose but inspired romp through Prince's "Erotic City."
And in Wilson, Semisonic boasts a frontman who conveys both the shy, geeky
charm of Buddy Holly and the foppish, exaggerated mannerisms of the Kinks'
Ray Davies. When his announcement of the forthcoming new album was answered
with an "It's great!" from an audience member, Wilson seemed genuinely taken
aback for a second before grinning happily and nodding, "Well, I have to
admit ...." Quibbles? Only that the too-short set left no room for either "Down in Flames" or "Across the Great Divide," two minor pop masterpieces that most bands would no doubt kill for. Semisonic, on the other hand, probably just forgot about them. |
| RICHARD
SKANSE (March 9,1998) take me up |
This Will Be Their Year
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Semisonic has a not-so-subliminal message for romantics with a penchant
for making mix tapes for their objects of desire: include "Singing in My
Sleep." The song, from the band's sophomore release, Feeling Strangely Fine,
is about a guy who falls madly in love with a girl (well, *presumably* a
girl, considering frontman Dan Wilson is married to one), based on a compilation
of seductive songs she made for him. "A lot of things that you think of
somebody aren't really easy to put into words and make it sound right,"
says Wilson, "but you can use a couple of songs that someone else made and
really say it right. It's a new way of standing under the balcony trying
to lure someone out of the bushes." He's actually paraphrasing his own lyrics -- "I've been living in your cassette/It's the modern equivalent/Singing up to a Capulet/On a balcony in your mind." And though Wilson confesses he's a "terrible mix tape maker," mostly because of his gnat-like attention span, |
he
certainly can't be accused of not understanding music's magnetic power.
"I get distracted halfway through," he says. "I think of some unrelated
but undeniably great piece of music, and then I lose the thread." Hopeless romantic mixmeisters with paltry CD collections can load up on songs from Feeling Strangely Fine, a melt-in-your-mouth collection of instantly accessible pop songs. While Semisonic's 1996 debut, Great Divide, sounds like '70s rock with pop harmonies and the occasional twisted riff, its production doesn't have the sheen of Fine. The new record's first single, "Closing Time" -- written specifically because the band needed a show closer -- is now burning up the modern rock charts. "Have you ever heard the phrase 'po' mouthing?'" asks Wilson rhetorically. "It's like pretending you have nothing when you have something." Without embellishing, it's obvious Wilson believes Semisonic has *something* but doesn't want to jinx it by flat out saying it. |
For one thing, in addition to a sterling set of recorded material, he has
a drummer who can walk, chew gum and whistle at the same time. In concert,
Jacob Slichter miraculously manages to keep the beat on drums with one hand
and use the other to provide carnival-like hooks on a Wurlitzer. "There
are a lot of things in life that are beckoning all the time," Wilson says
somewhat cryptically, "and for Jake to figure out pretty tangly ways to
cover bases on these songs, it's pretty astonishing." Take that, Def Leppard.
In fact, Slichter, Wilson and bassist John Munson all take turns on instruments during the band's live show, perhaps a hint that maybe the group needs a fourth member. Yeah, right. "It would be one more guy to argue with and figure out what roadside we're gonna stop at," laughs Wilson. |
| BLAIR
R. FISCHER (March 27,1998) take me up |
Semisonic
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They toured and pushed the damn thing to death, but Semisonic's second album,
Feeling Strangely Fine, has pretty much crested by now. And while the Minneapolis
trio is still on the road, the band can take it a little easier now that
the specter of mainstream promotion no longer hangs over them. They did
it, they have nothing left to prove. But though they didn't have to drive
any points home, Semisonic can't be accused of taking it easy. Irving Plaza
was full of attractive young adults who seemed to truly enjoy the music.
As such, they were spared most of the bullshit. A few months ago, lead singer/songwriter
Dan Wilson delivered the same requisite explanatory speech before each performance
of "Never You Mind," the Star-Trek-referencing Beatlesque tune from the
latest record. This time, Wilson left it at "Anyone who knows our new album
knows what this is all about." Their first record, 1996's Great Divide,
was heavily featured in the set list, and Wilson's typically excessive banter
was kept to a modest minimum. Indeed, music took center stage. They came charging out of the gate with a pair of solid rockers, "F.N.T.," a hook-laden singalong, immediately followed by their latest single, "Singing In My Sleep." The power that this band expresses live is not to be underestimated; Wilson and bass player John Munson deliver a two-fisted attack of volume and aggression, steel-cold guitar noise tempered by a shimmering tunefulness in nearly every song. |
Drummer Jacob Slichter follows a similar style, powerful yet precise. The
kicker with Semisonic is the keyboard, played by all three of them at one
point or another, but mostly by Slichter, whose one-handed parts (most notably
the hypnotic recurring figure in "Singing In My Sleep") are colorful without
being obtrusive. The band displayed its greatest cohesion during "Down In
Flames," the rarely-performed standout track from Great Divide, full of
lyrical bile and screaming guitar solo testosterone. "What about the plan?"
Wilson shouted during a break in the lyrics. "I guess we can forget about
the fucking plan." Lighter numbers like "Delicious" (a silly, sensual singalong) and "Secret Smile" (their soothing Hall and Oates sound-alike) attested to the band's breadth and versatility. "Delicious" featured extensive audience participation, with Wilson coaxing the crowd into the "woo hoo, woo hoo, yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah" refrain while a bubble machine pumped behind him. He posed and preened with an average-guy nonchalance while a thousand women swooned. "That was the best one yet," he said when the song was over. "But don't think you're taking over the show." Also on the oddball tip were a pair of covers: Prince's "Erotic City" (their old standby) and "I Got You" by Split Enz, which came complete with authentic, feathered-haired, space-age love song synthesizer chords. |
All
the while, Wilson's nice-guy charm gave the band personality and a face,
something that doggedly eludes most bands like this. Even the spectacular
light show -- white-hot beams during guitar solos, a tongue-in-cheek disco
ball -- tended to underline, not cover up, the band's razorblade aggression
and suitable charisma. The missteps laid elsewhere: Munson has increased his prominence as a back-up vocalist (and, on a few songs, lead singer), a role to which his dry voice doesn't seem best suited. He cooed through "Erotic City" effectively enough, but it was a good thing that it was Wilson interpreting His Royal Badness' slinky high notes. "If I Run," chugged back and forth from placid to explosive, but the explosive moments often veered out of control; the extended power-chord jam that finished off the song stood on some really shaky legs for a few moments there. But if anything, these blemishes only stood to reinforce Semisonic's authenticity, the rough-edges that characterize any genuine pub-reared rock band. Too slick, and it's just no fun. And what of "Closing Time," their inescapable mega-hit that has conquered much of the Western world by now? They played it all right, and it was incredible, but somehow it felt like they didn't have to. |
| NOAH
TARNOW (October 19,1998) take me up |
Semisonic: How to Construct a Pop MasterpieceBy George A. Paul Semisonic Singer/guitarist Dan Wilson and bassist/singer John Munson spent five years honing their craft in the quirky folk/pop outfit Trip Shakespeare, which released four albums in the late '80s/early '90s. When that group dissolved, Wilson and Munson recruited drummer Jacob Slichter and formed Semisonic in 1993. They released an EP and a full length album but failed to make much of an impression on the masses. Not so with Semisonic's sophomore opus Feeling Strangely Fine, which has just been certified gold on the strength of the hit "Closing Time" and next single "Singing In My Sleep." We recently caught up with Wilson, who was enjoying a brief respite before heading out on the summer Matchbox 20/Soul Asylum tour. "There's no drug dealers around, so I guess things are OK," he joked, from a phone booth in a rough area of Semisonic's hometown of Minneapolis. SunsetCruise:
"Closing Time" has done extremely well on the radio. It really doesn't
sound like anything else out there at the moment.
Dan Wilson:
That's interesting to me because I don't understand how [record companies]
chooses singles, but it does seem to be out of left field. To me, that's
better than the stuff that's so familiar you don't even notice it -- which
seems to be the other pop record formula of the day.
SunsetCruise:
To me, it doesn't seem to have the burnout effect other songs do.
Wilson: I
was in a mall the other day and on the Muzak, they were playing this song
that caught my ear and it was Louis Armstrong's "It Don't Mean A Thing
(If It Ain't Got That Swing)." It made me realize something about "Closing
Time" - that it has this really great swinging groove, which was always
our goal in making rock music; to do something that showed our love for
R&B and soul. I think one reason people are into the song is it has that
swing.
SunsetCruise:
Maybe it's the piano that makes it sound so timeless.
Wilson: The
piano we used for that track we actually discovered under a pile of lumber
in our rehearsal space. We rented this antique store two doors down from
the main studio we were using because I had this notion we should have
an experimental space for cheap, on-the-fly type recording of samples
and turning things backwards and upside down and doing stuff with loops.
So we set up this situation in the abandoned antique store. But halfway
through the process of setting it up, we were rehearsing and we uncovered
this incredible old piano. We found out later the antique store used to
be a tavern. We found the bar too, underneath some dangerous looking insulated
board. We found a big stained glass window. It was really amazing. Found
out later the place had a short unsuccessful life as a tavern. We had
a guy come in and tune it up, it was upright with no frontpiece - you
could see the strings and hammers. Three-fourths of the keys worked. Luckily,
the ones on the song, John ran over and started playing the piano when
we were jamming the song. The part was so perfect, we put it on our digital
recorder right then and there. Nick [Launay, producer] is such a genius
at flying things around on tape, we brought it in and said, 'Let's use
this on the song.' He just flew it in later.
SunsetCruise:
I've heard that some of your diehard fans back in Minneapolis have been
crying "sell out" because you've been getting so much airplay now.
Wilson: Fuck
them. I say that in the kindest possible way. Not to be glib. I understand
what they're thinking. I would've shouted "sell out" at our last record
because we were trying to make stuff that sounded like singles. Not that
we wanted to sound like the radio, because heaven knows we didn't sound
like what's on the radio then either. We were trying to do stuff that
was real tightly packaged. Every song a complete package of its own. I
thought that record - I'm not a racehorse betting man - but I thought,
"People are gonna dig this and this has some singles on it." It turned
into the cult favorite/critic's darling album. And that was our effort
to something that seemed to our weird ears really commercial. So this
time, I announced to everyone, "We're not gonna do demos. I'm not gonna
do anything to reassure the label there's anything commercial on this."
We're gonna totally waste a lot of time. We're gonna do it in Minneapolis,
so it's cheap. So we don't have to cry if we waste a day on a song that
turns out not to be on the record. Gonna have a long song list. Gonna
make stuff up on the fly. Just experiment. A lot of time in the studio
I'm working on a guitar thing or writing a song and John and Jake have
all this energy they want to apply. That's why we set up the B-room idea
where they could do stuff like all the crazy sounds on the song "California,"
which has all these explosive sound effects. I told John and Jake, 'I
want this song to sound like a disaster movie about a bunch of teenagers
in California. They have this dream of moving out and becoming stars,
but instead the Earth opens up and there's all this molten lava.' I said,
'Whaddaya think?' So they went off and did this incredibly powerful weird
stuff. The fans heard the new album and some of them got really excited
right away and others could tell that other people were gonna like it.
They got really bummed out. We got a lot of email that said, "Oh, it's
over now." I'm not sure what to think about it, because if we're backstage
after a show and some fan comes up to me and says, "I think you sold out
on this record," my response is, "Well, fuck you." That's because I don't
think anyone can listen to my music and tell what my financial intentions
were for my life. I don't want to struggle with a day job so I can rehearse
at night. I want to be able to buy a new guitar if I need one. I wanna
have a car and pay insurance. If being a musician means you have to give
those things up, it becomes impossible to be a musician.
SunsetCruise:
You'd mentioned your goal of taking a more relaxed approach this time
around. Was that a reaction against what you'd done on your debut, Great
Divide, with Paul Fox (XTC, Sugarcubes, 10,000 Maniacs)?
Wilson: It
totally was. I felt we tried that. I didn't really like it that much.
I like Paul a lot and think he's a brilliant musician. He's a big talent.
But his approach is very brisk. You get all the drums done so you can
send the rental drum set back to the store. If you don't get all the drums
done in the first week, you're outta luck. You put layers on the songs.
I know most records are done like that, so who am I to complain? It makes
me feel like I'm popping a rivet of the same model of car over and over
again as it goes by me. It's a methodical approach. I really wanted some
chaos [for Feeling Strangely Fine]. My life was chaotic. I was having
a lot of problems this past year and having a lot of things happen that
just can't be expressed in a brisk, efficient way. I wanted the record
to be as amazing as it could possibly be and I wanted us to have as much
room to experiment and throw things away as we could possibly need. Then
I felt what I was expressing in the songs was not gonna be served best
by an efficient approach of knocking down layer after layer and then boom
boom boom you're done. That was partly a response to the record before,
partly just a wild notion I had in my head.
SunsetCruise:
Was it your idea to work with Nick Launay?
Wilson: Several
years before, a friend of ours introduced us to Nick and said, "You have
to work with him someday." He was really weird. He's a great guy, really
intense. But during our first chat with Nick, he never took his eyes off
me. I interpreted that to mean he was intense and figured I was the leader
of the band. I think John and Jake might've felt this isn't a one-man-band...
We met him again a year and a half later and I told him, "We're a band.
This isn't just Dan and his songs. You've gotta deal with us as a group."
SunsetCruise:
So you brought him over here from his home in Australia for several months?
Wilson: I
said, "You can't hear any of the songs. You gotta fly blind. Come to Minneapolis.
I don't know when we're gonna be done." He said, "Can we shoot for five
weeks?" I said, "We'll never be done, but sure." He said, "You'd be surprised."
And two and a half months into it, he was going, "I should've listened
to you Dan. I'm going crazy." He's used to working fast, but he's also
like me. When something's not done, he's not willing to put it out.
SunsetCruise:
What did you learn from his approach?
Wilson: Think
about "Completely Pleased" for a second. It's got these sections where
the drums appear and disappear. There's a drum loop, then Jake playing
live drums. I told Nick, "Let's use the mute buttons to turn on and off
the drum set." Nick said, [adopts Aussie accent] "No, let's just erase
the drums where they don't want them." I said, "What if we erase too much?"
He said, "We'll try again." He went in and erased sections of drums and
we were excited because it was an amazing drum performance from Jake and
if Nick went over a beat too long, it would screw up the whole section.
It was so exciting that he was doing it in this irreversible way. Then
we actually erased some good stuff. It wasn't a bummer. It was a thrill.
Then Jake ran out and tried other things. Just the violence of erasing
stuff with buttons that are not precise led to a better result than doing
it a careful way and automating it on the computer...He was completely
right to violently chop in there with a crude but completely convincing
method.
SunsetCruise:
I heard there's a story behind those clothesline strips pictured on back
of the disc. Was that Nick's way of keeping track of the songs?
Wilson: I
teasingly called it his database, because he is totally not into computers
and technology despite all the records he's made. He'd put the strips
along the bottom of the mixing console and each strip referred to a different
song. He hung them all on the clothesline as sort of his ongoing art project.
A photographer in Minneapolis was visiting the studio, took a bunch of
pictures and also took some funny pictures of Nick's little art projects
and one of them was this database.
SunsetCruise:
Didn't you have something like 50 songs to choose from for this album?
Was that the first time you'd had so much material?
Wilson: Oh
yeah. I used to be really painstaking about songwriting. It would take
me a month to write one song. Then, I just had this explosion of songs.
I had a lot to say. I figured out how I wanted to say it. I actually wrote
20 more than that. But those really sucked, so I didn't count those among
the number I'd written. It just sort of happened. Suddenly, I had this
huge pile of songs. John had a half dozen and Jake had eight to 10.
SunsetCruise:
There's a distinct romantic feel to many of them.
Wilson: I
wanted that to be the only criterion we worked with. I don't care where
the budget's at, or how something sounds, as far as being pristine or
distorted. On the last record, we were very excited about making stuff
that would make other musicians freak out. We were interested in making
textures and sounds where people would say, 'How'd the fuck they do that?'
The thing is, I didn't realize it would be a love/relationship type album.
When in fact, a lot of those songs didn't really start out feeling that
way. They just sort of took this turn and the album. It was a time when
I was really needing love to carry me through a lot of trouble. I was
really wondering what the meaning of life was and I think the expression
of looking for and wanting and finding love as a meaning for living really
affected the way the album sounds.
Wilson: They're brilliant but I never would've thought we'd compare to them. "This Could Be My Year," "California," "All Worked Out," all have a real sarcastic edge to them. That's sort of my humor. "This Could Be My Year" is Jake's lyrics. That's just the way we mess with each other. I think [Pavement's Stephen Malkmus] has an amazing way with sarcastic, throwaway lines. SunsetCruise:
When you got your brother Matt into the studio to play on "Never You Mind,"
did it recall your old days together in Trip Shakespeare?
Wilson: Not
at all. Matt came in with this idea he'd do some background vocals. He
sang this thing that didn't sound good as a background vocal. I wasn't
into counter-melody ideas on this album, so I said to Nick, "This sounds
more like a guitar line." So Nick ran helter skelter into the other room
and said, [adopts Aussie voice] "Matt, just try that on a guitar." He
sort of forced Matt to wing it. That's not at all how Trip Shakespeare
did anything. Live, we winged it all the time. But in the studio, it was
all controlled and planned out.
SunsetCruise:
In past interviews, you've cited Matt as one of your biggest influences.
Wilson: Huge.
I learned to write songs from him; watched him at work, paying attention
to lyrics. I saw him taking chances with lyrics. Risking people making
fun 'cause it was too extreme. Something I think bands like Pavement are
in error about. They make sure to couch everything in this unassailable
mystery. I was very convinced that Matt's way was totally the way to go.
SunsetCruise:
Was he the reason you initially stopped classical piano lessons and picked
up the guitar?
Wilson: Yeah,
he asked me to learn how to play guitar so I could play in Trip Shakespeare.
SunsetCruise:
I read one review of Feeling Strangely Fine that compared "Secret Smile"
to a Hall & Oates song. How does that sit with you?
Wilson: That's
bullshit.
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| Semisonic Feeling Strangely Fine
Minneapolis three-piece release astute, quietly glorious second album. World forgets to quake. Semisonic are based around singer/songwriter/guitarist Dan Wilson, who was formerly the fulcrum of US college radio favourites Trip Shakespeare. Semisonic's debut album, Great Divide, was critically well-received two years ago, but Feeling Strangely Fine is a creative quantum leap, 12 evocative, spectral minor-key guitar anthems which are clearly on more than nodding terms with R.E.M. but also reminiscent of Replacements and the solo work of Paul Westerberg, that group's leader. The poignant opening track, Closing Time, is an infectious joy blessed with an unforgettable hook, and with the exception of the worryingly Electric Light Orchestra-esque Never You Mind, the rest of Feeling Strangely Fine is excellent. Ian Gittins |