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've never 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's natural 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.