More Semisonic

When Rolling Stone critic David Fricke named Semisonic's debut Great Divide one of the best of 1996, he wrote enthusiastically that it was "simple and sparkling" with a "luminous guitar-vocal glaze." Lead singer, guitarist and songwriter Dan Wilson recalls being flattered -- but also aware that great sound alone wasn't the band's only asset. He knows that no matter how seductive the sound, the heart of the track is in its lyrical depth.

Semisonic's gutsy, erotic and intimate take on songs that seduce both sonically and verbally is now brilliantly fulfilled on its latest release Feeling Strangely Fine. A sharp but shimmering rock record that takes the listener on a twisted Romeo's road trip of half-empty bars and fevered embraces, Feeling Strangely Fine is probably the loudest (and loveliest) come-on record in recent memory.

"I wanted this to be a bedroom record," confesses Wilson. "I imagine singing to one person, that I'm whispering in one ear."

But Feeling Strangely Fine is hardly a mellow space age bachelor pad album. The Minneapolis-based trio mixes a Nineties nightcap of vibrant and visceral rock and roll. John Munson's reverberating bass lines and Dan Wilson's edgy guitar licks resurrect the spirit of a grungier past while creating more melodic textures. The pulse of Jacob Slichter's drumming underscores his bandmates with a slinky, soulful rhythm. Matching Semisonic's hard-edged rock-meets-funk sensibility is the band's instinctive feel for lyrical songcraft, the knack of knowing when to sigh ... and when to roar.

After the 1996 release of Great Divide, an album which allowed Semisonic to unleash their joyful penchant for gleaming guitar riffs and studio experimentation, the band members saw a need for a rougher, less polished finish to complement the vitality of their new project. They found a kindred spirit in Australian producer Nick Launay (Midnight Oil, Public Image Ltd., Girls Against Boys) whose punkish sensibility met the adventurous desires of the band.

"A lot of rock music these days has a certain assembly-line mentality," say Wilson. "What we wanted to do is subvert that in any way we could."

With that in mind, Launay and Semisonic walked into Minneapolis's spanking new studio Seedy Underbelly with no demos and a small group of songs (cut down from nearly sixty possibilities) that were virtually untested. Wilson shied from overexposing new material, determined that as recorded, the infant songs would define themselves. The brash approach worked -- Feeling Strangely Fine possesses a shattering intimacy, resonating with songs that jump from the speakers with bumps and bruises. One of the masters of auditory artistry, Bob Clearmountain, was chosen to mix down the final product.

The album opens with "Closing Time," a freeflying rocker that places the listener on a barstool staring at the woman across the room staring back at him. "At first I thought I needed the kind of song that was great to close a set," said Wilson, "but the more I thought about it I realized that when a show ends, when a bar closes, it's really the beginning of another part of the night. Closing time is when you open the doors and send everyone out ... and then something else happens."

With an empty highway ahead, Semisonic coaxes the listener on a sultry late night ride. "Singing in My Sleep" is about a long distance relationship kept seductively alive by the back and forth exchange of a cassette of love songs. It's a contemporary spin on the romantic notion of troubadours and lusty serenades. The faraway desire of the track breathes with a driving beat dictated by drummer Jacob Slichter. "Part of the energy of that performance came from the fact that Jake played the Rhodes piano line and the drums at the same time," adds Wilson.

The cryptic "Made to Last" is a gritty tribute to the band's fans and "Never You Mind" is dangerously catchy, making the most of John Munson's growling bass and trembly guitar (and featuring Wilson's brother Matt on lead guitar).

The next three songs might be the seductive heart of Feeling Strangely Fine. In "Secret Smile" Wilson's vocals plead with reedy longing, wrapping wickedly around an edgy r&b-inspired backbeat, smooth strings and the retro-gurgle of a Rhodes piano. "DND' is the sentimental beauty of the album A leave-us-alone lullaby of carnal knowledge in a motel room, "DND" trembles with a desperate edge awash in painterly strokes of acoustic and slide guitars and strings Wilson doesn't hesitate to call the track one of his favorites

"Completely Pleased" is a snaky little sex groove with tongue-in-cheek macho bravado --undoubtedly a song that women will thank Dan for writing. "I hope so!" he laughs. "I wanted it to be sexy and intimate, but also funny. And it's also one of those songs that has all of Semisonic's tricks packed into three minutes. Funk meets rock meets singsong melodies."

Jacob Slichter penned "This Will Be My Year," a freshly cynical turn on New Year's Eve that crackles with dark humor. "All Worked Out," is a warped tribute to male helplessness in the face of female perseverance, arranged with the weird buoyancy of a Beach Boys track on ecstasy Wilson has christened it his "dysfunction anthem".

"California" also has its share of personal chaos, set appropriately in the land of tattered dreams and palm trees. When writing the track, Wilson imagined its musical backbone to have all the nuances of a disaster movie with the hapless hero (and aspiring rock star) swallowed alive - sonically-- by earthquakes and volcanoes, both real and more psychologically generated. It is a trippy iceberg of a song Wilson anticipates people to misunderstand it in a really great way."

Following the ominous groan of "California," is John Munson's "She Spreads Her Wings." The track, which Munson plays and sings himself, is as acoustically vulnerable and unnerving as John Lennon's "Julia." "When you're listening to it you feel as if you're in a movie," says Wilson. "You can almost feel yourself flying."

The track ends with a whisper of wind ... which is followed by Wilson's "Gone To The Movies," a spare song of lament and loneliness made sweeter with a string quartet. It is a striking coda to an album of alluring contradictions.

Feeling Strangely Fine is an artistic explosion from a band that consistently elevates itself from the modern rock milieu. For Wilson, Munson and Slichter the band's innovation is based in their potent individuality as musicians, their fierce belief in rubbing against the grain to find a deeper, more visceral groove and a real need to capture "life, mood and essence."

"The band wanted this record to be an intimate message from the singer to the listener," says Wilson. "Love is sacred and life is sacred and no matter how much bullshit you have to go through, we all possess a well of hope inside of us that can't be killed. And I can't imagine that's a meaningless thing."