“Closing time. Open all the doors and let you out into the world.”
That Semisonic single was released in March of 1998, spring of my senior year in college. From the first time those introductory piano notes trickled through my dorm room stereo I knew what the song was about: me and my impending graduation.
“Closing time. Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”
How could it not be? For 20 years now that song has conjured vivid recollections both of that dorm room and of that supercharged feeling of anxiety mixed with anticipation that visits you in threshold seasons of life change.
“Closing time. Time for you to go out to the places you will be from.”
Except yesterday I heard the songwriter, Dan Wilson, explain its composition, and, of course, a 22 year old undergrad features nowhere in that explanation. I texted a friend: “He doesn’t seem to realize that his song is actually about college graduation.” In fact, compared to what’s really behind the words and the production, my private meaning feels petty and insignificant. It’s really lovely. You should listen to it.
“Closing time. You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.”
A reminder for anyone who makes things of meaning for an audience: people are making their own meaning out of your work.