SomeAngryIndian

I recently found a band called The Dismemberment Plan, a DC outfit that broke up half a decade ago. I proceeded to do what the cool kids call getting into them. They are, how you say, good.

I have been (religiously) listening their last two albums: 1999’s Emergency & I and 2001’s Change. They are both incredibly delicious indie rock but so different from the norm that it’s refreshing to hear. Because though I’ve thrown out the “indie” label, DP really defies categorization or any sort of menial nomenclature. Their albums lack one defining sound. Are they defined by the undulating guitar of The City or the (intentionally) droll techno beat opening You Are Invited? By the eastern tinged guitar buzz of Face of the Earth or the laconic acoustic guitar of Automatic.

The only threads connecting these songs that I see are the rhythm section and the lyrics. Travis Morrison knows how to write thoughtful, emotional, intelligent lyrics. Emergency & I is ripe with creative and unique vignettes of ordinary life that isn’t so ordinary after all. A Life of Possibilities is about escaping from the world and resurfacing eventually (”to come up for air”) only to find that nobody remembers you or simply doesn’t want to. Memory Machine is a Matrix-y song about machines doing us the “favor” of taking care of our heartaches. The next song, What Do You Want Me To Say? is a standout track about someone frustrated with having to prove themself to their lover. Later in the album, The City (my personal favorite) is about a lonely guy telling some that “the city’s been dead since you’ve been gone”. It breaks down at the end, ups the temp, and explodes with the lines:

oh i never had just whatever it is
you want baby
and i really tried i tried and troubled my mind
it made my crazy
to try and figure out what it is
i’ve done wrong every time when
everything i love everything i hold dear
heads out sometime
all i ever say now is goodbye.

It’s simply a glorious moment. And Change doesn’t skimp on the great lyrics. The first song is Sentimental Man, again about a man trying to prove himself, that though he doesn’t believe in an afterlife he still has genuine emotions. That he is still human. Later on we get Secret Curse, about a man down on his luck trying to implore whatever force that’s been cursing him that he’s sorry. There’s the story of Ellen and Ben, who “made a date expecting the worst”, ended up laying around in bed “having sex again and again”, then breaking up at a wedding and never seeing each other again. But the clincher on this album is Time Bomb. This is a song. This is, pure and simple, some of the best poetry in music I’ve had the pleasure of hearing. Morrison plays with words ending in “-ine” or “-ime” to great effect. The song is crushing, crescendoes, and then suddenly hushes. Morrison then utters the infinitely quotable line: I am a time bomb and I only live in that one moment in which you die. And you realize: fuck this is some powerful shit.

Dismemberment Plan is a rhythm band. The drummer is fiercely talented. He is the anti-Ringo, unpredictable and key in driving the songs forward. I’ve said this with Radiohead and the same applies here (the comparison to Radiohead is, of course, a good thing), if you can’t get into one of their songs, listen to the drums. Life of Possibilities opens Emergency & I with absolutely no guitar. Just a wonking bass line and stiff drums. The vocals are a light falsetto and sound a bit like the guy from Maroon 5 (don’t worry, no other songs sound like this and even then, it fades as the songs continues, and also I’ve grown to like it). It’s weird, naturally. But that’s Dismemberment Plan. Don’t expect to be washed in guitars.

But that’s not to say there aren’t any guitars. The guitars are used sparingly, but to an amazing effect. A few seconds into LoP a guitar strums unexpectedly (very Pavement-esque) but after a while it makes perfect sense for it to be there. What Do You Want Me To Say has one persistent, shrill note from the guitar until it finally explodes in the chorus to Morrison’s screams. It feels good, it feels right, and it moves you.

But no song on Emergency uses guitars to such perfection as You Are Invited. As I mentioned, this song starts off giving you the finger. It’s a shitty little Casio keyboard drumbeat and bleep bloop you’d expect from some Squarepusher wannabe. But listen, again, to the lyrics. And it tells the story of a guy who gets a universal invite to anything and anywhere. And when the chorus comes in (You are invited by anyone to do anything…) you hear a guitar strum up and it’s like honey in a sea of bitter salt. It fades away as he goes to a disco that he normally wouldn’t get into but where nobody’s having any fun. So he leaves, goes to a friend’s party where he sees his ex. He apologizes for coming but she starts to sing the chorus and the guitars explode. It’s fucking gorgeous. It’s pounding against the walls and after that techno shit you remember why you love Rock ‘n’ Fucking Roll. You Are Invited is an art piece. After a while, you don’t mean the periods between the guitars but it still makes you jump in jubilation everytime you hear them. It’s smart and clever and sorely missing from music.

There’s so much to say about this band that I could write pages. But I’ll make a long story a little less long and say this is one of my new favorite bands. It’s a shame they’re broken up, sure, but I’m into them as hard as I was into Neutral Milk Hotel. There’s just so much energy in Emergency & I. Change is great too, thought less universal, more internalized. Each one fits a separate mood. I’d recommend Emergency & I to anyone. It’s tough to get through, at first. But there’s so many high points you can easily devour like pop. I haven’t even discussed Spider in the Snow or Back and Forth. Oh well. There’s only so much you can give a reader in an album review, and that’s good. If you want to, there’s plenty more to discover in here. So go. Go listen.