Semisonic
Feeling Strangely Fine

THE REVIEW

In my very personal selection of nineties bands forgotten by man and God, there's room for this trio of really good guys, with clean faces, wearing leather jackets, yes, but suede, with brown shoes, with good intentions. From the moniker, Semisonic seem to want to tell you "come on, don't overdo it". When pop-rock is made by people who get ahead of themselves, the danger is making albums like the latest Coldplay or Richard Ashcroft ones, or worse, like the Zwan's album, so keeping your feet on the ground and not taking yourself too seriously seems like a happy idea.

Their second album, from 1998, is an example of how well you can do by adding modesty and simplicity to the ever-present dream of glory that everyone experiences when picking up an electric guitar. Tracks that tear the radio in two, and ballads a bit too much like good kids, but with the right progression, without overdosing on pathos, not overproduced but above all not over-arranged. And, of course, with not too many pretensions.

The verse-rhyme of the famous "Closing Time" immediately sticks in your head, even if it's hard to accept it when, from time to time, it restarts after the pleasant guitar strumming of the chorus; "Singing In My Sleep" is the perfect blend of sustained rock and endless melody, and that slight but wise use of studio techniques extends the stride of the song, starting from that recurring, slightly offbeat loop.

"Never You Mind" is excellent pop, with that charleston-like progression in the verses, and a slow special from a '70s hair rock band. In the superb "All Worked Out", it seems certain tropes of the best grunge have ended up in the hands of pope boys and their haphazardly tuned guitars. "California" is graceful and hot: it will arrive after a hundred songs on the theme, but always before Phantom Planet. Here I open a window and ask: is there still room in pop-rock for songs about California?

Then there are ballads made with the hands of the good and honest craftsman who votes Lega, not overly self-satisfied, which maybe, at the right time, even get a little bit angry. "Made To Last" is the best, melancholic but not resigned; followed by the delicate, delightful "Secret Smile". "This Will Be My Year" is halfway between the ballad and the mid-tempo, with bursts played loudly and the significant contribution of keyboards. To seal it off, the icy "Gone To The Movies".

A great little record by an author, Dan Wilson, who had the merit of taking certain things of his time, first among them the structure of the songs, and trapping them inside a next-door-neighbor's boy outlook-philosophy. So take your favorite pseudo-doomed anti-hero from the nineties, trim their split ends, clean them up (even from drugs), dress them not like a poser but at least not how they're usually dressed, looking like a Moscow subway janitor. And maybe even put a pair of glasses on them. But above all, try to convince them that life can be beautiful even if you like rock, and not techno. Surely, in this new version, they won't go down in history, won't become an adolescent legend, and will probably disappear shortly thereafter, but how many survived grunge even in commercial terms? How many, that is, in 2008 still sell like they used to?

Success or not, are we sure they would have inevitably written worse songs?