Genius, unfortunately, is not.
Their favourite REM song
is ‘Everybody Hurts’, they’re on support band terms with Stereophonics and they wrote the music for [I]American Pie[/I]. If these aren’t reasons enough to swerve Semisonic’s third album like you would an out-of-control plague-cart, then one listen to the musical delights within should prove toxic enough. Unless, of course, you think Crowded House were way too experimental.
Semisonic are the lambswool jumper pulled over the eyes of people who have an irresistible soft spot for ‘classic’ songwriting. Fail to give their songs full attention – and God knows, that’s easy enough – you could almost believe this is literate radio-friendly pop; just the thing for those blustery rides through an imaginary Santa Monica freeway. Fair enough, singer Dan Wilson does come up with the line
“Our brains were impounded by our hearts” but on rhyming “uncertain” with “hurtin'”, judgement is quickly reversed.
‘El Matador’ and ‘She’s Got My Number’ are – sit yourself down – at least as good as Deep Blue Something’s ‘Breakfast At Tiffany’s’ but otherwise, Chris de Burgh cashing in on Coldplay evil is here. Genius, unfortunately,