Welcome to day 2 of Minnesota Week here at Another Flavor!

Minnesota Week has really started rolling here and we (Who is we? I am.) couldn’t be happier. Today we’ll be looking at a video by Trip Shakespeare. Today they are known primarily as the band that 2 out of 3 members of Semisonic were in before they got famous, but they actually released two albums on a major label. Neither of the albums did well, though, and today no one outside Minnesota remembers them fondly or remembers them at all. In Minnesota, though, they are thought of as a seminal influence whose jangly pop sound and vaguely experimental psychedelia was directly responsible for the work of Josh Hartnett.

Thank you, Trip Shakespeare.

Anyways, Minnesotans are not prone to being demonstrative. Let’s say you are having fun. For the sake of argument, let’s say you are not drunk. If you are Minnesotan, you might do the following things:
1. Laugh through your nose a little bit.
2. Look away from people and smile.
3. Mention to your spouse a few weeks after the fact that you “had a pretty good time.”

These kinds of things, which are commonplace in Minnesota, do not play well in other parts of the country. People would think that the Minnesotans were somber. It comes from our Scandinavian blood. Many non-Scandinavians don’t realize that Ingmar Bergman’s film Cries and Whispers is a hilarious comedy. It is just a bit reserved. Bergman doesn’t want to show off.

So, what do you do if you are trying to become a nationally famous band and you are a Minnesotan with a fun song? Let’s take a look:

Oh god, it’s horrifying.

The answer to my question is, apparently, that you fake it. You look at some pictures and videos of non-Minnesotans having fun and you do your best to pretend. The members of Trip Shakespeare are clearly not good actors. Like alcoholics whose slow, careful walk is designed to hide their drunkenness, Trip Shakespeare’s carefully choreographed revelry is designed to hide just how uncomfortable they are with the whole thing.

Look at this picture:

Each member of the band is carefully posed to indicate fun.

Here is a sexy woman:

No one in Minnesota appreciates that kind of clothing. It’s just not practical. We prefer a nice, skin-tight sweater. It’s both hot and hot.

The singer, who grows up to be the milquetoast lead singer of Semisonic, has long hair, but we aren’t fooled.

The whole band uses some sort of technology to make themselves extremely large and shoves their faces through the curtain.

It’s possible that the bass player (he’s on the left) is having a little bit of fun. The guy on the right is in pain, though.

None of them knows how to dance.

They think that sharing a microphone might give them a carefree, Beatles-ish vibe. Once again it is forced.

This guy is the worst actor of them all.

I think if you wrote a text book about body language you could use this shot as a perfect example of being uncomfortable. His shoulders are hunched. His whole body is tight. The expression on his face is pained. This guy is not having anything even similar to fun.

It’s time to quit, guys.

The band seems to agree so they give us another shot of a long-haired Dan Wilson.

And then end the song. At this point someone from the label must have shown up with a whip. Because even though the song has ended they start playing again.

They are whipped into a frenzy!

Then the song mercifully fades out.

Here’s some advice: When you stop playing, you have made an agreement with the audience that the song is over. Do not breach their trust. They will be angry. This is the same reason that encores are terrible. When a band walks off- stage, the show is over. I leave. You should too. Jesus, people. Get your shit together.

I don’t want to sound like I hate this video. I don’t. I’m obligated not too because I’m from Minnesota. This is what I found to like:

I like all the cheerleaders or whatever they are. Are they supposed to be bachelorettes?

She also seems pretty uncomfortable, though.

This person has a lot of self-confidence.

I also like that they put a Minnesota reference in the video. If you were paying attention, you noticed this shot:

Any Minnesotan music fan recognizes that brick painted black with white stars on it. That is First Avenue, made famous in Purple Rain. This is good. Trip Shakespeare know who they can count on so they threw that in for us.

Join me tomorrow when I talk about a band you actually care about.

-PTD

Yesterday we looked at a [classic ‘80’s power ballad](/posts/dropping-glass- slipper-from-helicopter/). It had all the themes that were important in the ‘80’s. Power. Ballads. Scarves. Cowboys. Today I want to talk about a song from the ‘90’s. The band would probably not admit it, but it is definitely also a power ballad.

“Closing Time” by Semisonic:

It has quiet, sensitive verses and a rockin’ chorus. I’m pretty sure that’s what Dr. Johnson included as the definition of a power ballad in his original dictionary. Of course, later scholars edited out that entry along with those for Oldsmobile, internet cafe, and Craisins. That guy was really ahead of his time.

This video is a [live without an audience video](/posts/excitement-mismatch- with-jet-and-vines/) that [includes a subplot](/posts/ridiculous-hairstyles- on-beach-what/). This is usually a good choice for a video because you get to see the band up close and personal but you don’t get bored because they only make two different faces while playing. Semisonic’s twist on this format is pretty smart. They do a split screen where half the screen is the rocking and the other half is the subplot.

Here the woman goes about her tasks closing up a restaurant or coffee shop or something while the bass player plays a piano sensitively.

The band goes about setting up as an inverse of the woman’s putting away. The woman makes a phone call.

I feel like this shot is some sort of cultural artifact. The woman is on a pay phone. The phone she is calling is a rotary telephone (when you are talking about a rotary you can’t just say phone, it is always telephone). The telephone is attached to an answering machine and that answering machine takes cassette tapes. One day we’ll have to explain all of this to our kids.

The singer misses the call. Luckily he has the answering machine so he gets still gets the message that they should meet at 10 PM. Based on the clock in the background that should be in 15 minutes.

The chorus comes around and it is time to rock out. Since Semisonic is pretty white bread they don’t rock out too hard, but this is the power part of the power ballad.

In the second verse it is closing time. Hey, that’s the name of the song!

It’s a little subtle, so let me break that down for you. Closing:

Time:

Guys, we can all hear the words to the song. There’s no need to beat our heads in with it. Closing time. Closing time. Closing time.

At this point the singer puts down his guitar.

I love that he removed the “hall” from his Marshall amp so it just says “Mars”. I don’t know if that’s like a thing , but if it isn’t then it’s definitely cool. Probably the coolest thing about the dorky singer in this video.

Now that the singer has left the performance, he appears on the left side of the screen in the subplot. Man, they really are having fun with this concept!

The singer walks over to the restaurant or coffee shop or whatever to meet the woman.

But it is closed! Because it was closing time! Didn’t he look at his watch earlier and see that it was time to close? This is a major continuity error in this video.

Meanwhile, the woman traveled to the performance to meet the singer, but he is not there.

During the bridge the music is just strings, piano, and drums (possibly a drum machine). They decide to represent this in the performance section of the screen as a record playing. That is pretty cool! It keeps the video small scale rather than all of the sudden having a quartet there, playing their hearts out.

Having missed each other at their respective workplaces, both the singer and the woman just decide to go to the party.

They search for each other.

All of the sudden the singer appears on the left side of the screen. The woman was just there!

After approximately 15 seconds of searching the singer just gives up. “I don’t know, dudes,” he says. “I don’t see her anywhere.”

On the face of it, this seems like a failed date. You have to remember, though, that Semisonic is from Minnesota. And while I was not born in Minnesota and do not live there currently, I am also from Minnesota so I can interpret this video correctly.

Minnesotans don’t look people in the eye. They don’t like talking about how they feel. Ideally, they have essentially no interaction with other human beings. Every time a Minnesotan sees someone they recognize they are filled with anxiety because they know they have to say something to that person. Minnesotans don’t have anything to say to anyone, so they hope the person is satisfied with a vague reference to the weather. “Some weather we’re having!” the Minnesotan will say, trying to walk briskly past the person they’re addressing. If the other person is also a Minnesotan they will say, “You betcha!” That will be the end of it. But what if the other person doesn’t understand Minnesotan social rules? What if they talk at length about how the weather is affecting them personally? Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat imagining just that situation. It’s best to never see anyone.

As a result, this video depicts the perfect Minnesotan date. The singer and the woman communicate via a recorded message and then never see each other, yet they can say that they were at the party together. They don’t have to look at each other or speak to each other and that’s just about perfect. Later, their moms might ask, “How was that date?” They will say, “Pretty good. We went to a party.” And that will be the end of it.

-PTD