Song of the Day: Semisonic - "Singing in My Sleep" (1998)

A fresh song, and an update on the rest of my Dodgers championship tribute pieces.

Good week to you all, Marshall Artists, wherever you may be. 

First, I’ve officially decided the remainder of my Dodgers championship reflection/celebration posts are going to be fairly spread out. As I acknowledged in my Dave Roberts forgiveness piece, I figured it was imperative to get them out ASAP with the World Series clincher over a week in the rearview mirror. However, the deciding factor was that the National League MVP won’t be announced until November 21 (my 35th birthday, no less!), which puts a binding factor on a very specific piece that I’m already proud of. There is no doubt in my mind, and anyone’s mind (outside of Flushing, NY, at least), that Shohei Ohtani will win it over Francisco Lindor. That said, I don’t want to get ahead of myself in deifying Shohei for the sake of said article. 

Now, on to Song of the Day. When I started Marshall Arts last year, I had a burst of creative prescience where I drafted a bunch of Google Docs for songs I wanted to pay tribute to. Today, I’m going to fill out one of those preordained songs to celebrate: “Singing in My Sleep” by Semisonic. Released as a single in August 1998, this tune was the second track from the band’s sophomore album Feeling Strangely Fine, and was released as the second single after the perennial hit “Closing Time.” 

To begin, I highlight this song because I believe 1998-99 is a deeply underappreciated golden age of rock. I honestly didn’t realize this until my friend Vinnie Guidera (whose own music you need to check out) pointed out to me that the late ‘90s was a fertile period where alternative rock and power pop evolved in subtle, yet distinct, ways. So much is written about the early half of the decade, when grunge and Britpop dominated the charts and arenas. Yet power pop, a subgenre that took hold in the ‘70s, was every bit as vital thanks to the likes of Sloan, Velvet Crush, Weezer, and Matthew Sweet. Semisonic married the sensibilities of pure power pop with the more literary ideals of grunge/alternative. 

Even a cursory glance at the tail end of the ‘90s reveals an abundance of rock gems that stand the test of time. Consider the following:

• “You Get What You Give” by New Radicals

• “Money City Maniacs” by Sloan

• “The Way” by Fastball

• “Inside Out” by Eve 6 

• “Circles” by Soul Coughing 

• “Got You (Where I Want You)” by The Flys 

• “In the Aeroplane Over the Sea” by Neutral Milk Hotel

• “My Own Worst Enemy” by Lit

On March 24, 1998, Semisonic made their mark in shaping this muscular span with Feeling Strangely Fine. The second album by the Minnesota trio of Dan Wilson, John Munson and Jacob Slichter is a delightful showcase of seemingly every characteristic that defined late ‘90s alternative. From ‘70’s-tinged rave-ups (the ELO-esque piano and flange of “Never You Mind”) to that one hit everyone knows (“Closing Time,” your graduation song), it’s an audial delight through and through. 

There’s no question “Closing Time” is a great song, an epochal ‘90s cultural moment that has persisted in a way that fortunately hasn’t worn it out or aged poorly. But “Singing in My Sleep” is the superior tune, and the standout track of the entire album. Riding a cushy Wurlitzer electric piano, Wilson earnestly sings of the power of a mixtape providing a conduit of deep human connection:

Got your tape and it changed my mind
Heard your voice in between the lines
Come around from another time
When nobody ever goes

Even deeper than the rumination of “Closing Time,” this song connects even deeper in exploring how music bonds humanity. If I had to search for anything approaching a caveat in extolling the virtues of “Singing in My Sleep,” it’s that its romanticism may not quite hit home with Gen Z and younger audiences of today. In the day and age where almost the entirety of recorded music is available with the touch of a finger, the idea of having to cull a limited number of songs for a plastic case of tape seems like cuneiform. 

But the true essence of the song, the transcendence of bonding with other people through the magic of music, remains eternal and relatable. Nothing in life can equal the atavistic glee of connecting with another through the music you cherish. Whether digested through vinyl, tape, CD, streaming, or whatever other means, forging a bond with someone through the music that means the most to you is unlike anything else in life. Semisonic captured that better than perhaps anyone else.