Monday, April 27, 1998
Semisonic’s sonorous, but short, show charms fans
MUSIC: Rising Minnesota band blends honesty, personality to pop
performance at Troubadour
Trinh Bui
Daily Bruin Contributor
Rolling in from places unknown, the trio Semisonic played a
brilliantly laid-back performance at the Troubadour Wednesday.
Their show apparently points to a band already crossing over the
line separating obscurity and fame. The band’s big single, "Closing
Time," with the catchy chorus about picking up a chick for some
sweet lovin’ has done a slow burn up on radio playlists all over
America. Semisonic’s gig captured their Minnesota charm – if there
is such a thing – nicely. The band rocked like they were in some
midwestern bar as opposed to a legendary L.A. club and added a
refreshingly quirky wit.
Booked before Sonic became a relatively successful group, the
small club could not accommodate the fair-weather fans roaming the
entrance. Inside, the Troubadour entertained a gathering of
not-so-usual L.A. club goers: normal people. Most spectators
appeared to be mid-20s middle America-type folks sporting
turtlenecks, overalls, jeans, and T-shirts. Lycra, tiny tank tops,
and fuck-me pants were absent at this concert.
Mingling about while the stage crew prepped equipment during
sound check, the audience anticipation grew as the time wound down
to Sonic’s onstage appearance. With a casual flow to their strut,
Sonic walked out onto the tiny, elevated cement stage to the
approving claps from the crowd. Mixing the songs between their
debut disc, "The Great Divide," and sophomore release, "Feeling
Strangely Fine," front man Dan Wilson, led his flock of adoring
fans through a lively set pumped with super-extended guitar
heroics. Wilson’s angular features and lanky build pleased the
female contingency; their faces bore the evidence, with hypnotized
eyes and fantasy induced smiles stretching cheek to cheek.
Sonic’s catchy brand of pop grabs the attentive audience by
laying down literate, honest lyrics to hooky melodies that stick to
the brain and cause involuntary humming. "Never You Mind," is a
prime example, a maddeningly infectious piano measure connected to
equally effective guitars that forces people to dance.
Though Sonic’s music ranges in tempo and intensity, the band is
really good with the sappy girlfriend songs. If it’s about the
break-up, making up or pangs and joys of the relationship, anything
involving commitment is a song waiting to happen for Wilson’s band.
Wilson’s lyrics take more depth when he sings about the delicate
intricacies of being involved; "Singing in My Sleep," and "Secret
Smile," seems like personal accounts set to touching and uplifting
music.
Unlike the album’s tight placement and length of instrument-play
within songs, Sonic’s live performance rags the edges of each song
with long, winding guitar choruses and jams. Wilson and bassist
John Munson traded licks during these guitar festivities while
drummer Jacob Slichter banged his kit unnoticed.
In between songs, Wilson decided to have fun with the audience.
As part stand-up comic and natural nerd, Wilson told stories about
some songs or about his insight about California and Minnesota. On
one occasion Wilson turned the audience into back-up singers for
"Made to Last," giving the song a homely, intimate curve. During
the musical portions of the show, Wilson played the part of rock
star with lip curls and deliberately bad dancing on stage. Paying
tribute to fellow Minnesota native Prince, Sonic covered "Raspberry
Beret," to the delight of the club.
The only misgiving was the shortness of their set. After what
felt like only 40 minutes of work, Sonic closed out the show
appropriately with a great live rendition of "Closing Time." Not
completely satisfied, people demanded more, and Sonic delivered
with not one but two encores that quelled the restless souls.