Truly Great

I've listened to a lot of records in my time. A lot. And I'm still pretty young. But in my entire history of indie rock obsession, no single first listening experience was as exciting, eye-opening or confusing as the first time I heard the Dismemberment Plan's Emergency & I. I was a senior in high school with a subscription to CMJ, and each issue I would read cover to cover. I would base my shopping trips around their "best new music" section and songs I liked from their CD samplers. But in many cases, songs from "best new music" picks never made it to the disc.

But in early 2000, the Dismemberment Plan's Emergency & I was one of the mag's monthly picks, and, conveniently, "What Do You Want Me To Say?", off the very same album, was one of the tracks on the sampler. According to CMJ's RIYL, the band sounded like Jawbox, Fugazi and Brainiac, three bands I had already taken a liking to, so I was intrigued from the get go. But it wasn't until I actually heard the song that I was able to fully grasp just how amazing this band was. A John Bonham-like thunderous drum stomp begins the song as Travis Morrison's voice and guitar shoot forward as if launched through a vacuum tube. The off-kilter melody was bizarre, yet catchy, and quite unlike anything I had ever heard before. But then the band veers straight into a monumental arena rock chorus that rocked as hard as the previously alluded-to Led Zeppelin, though without any indication of blues influence.

I was sold. I had to find that record. My first instinct told me to go to my local record store, where I would frequently pick up new favorites and used goodies. No such luck. They told me I could special order it, so I laid down my five bucks and eagerly awaited the coming of the Plan. A week later, I returned, but the order had never been completed. So I waited another week. The disc still hadn't arrived. I couldn't take it anymore. These people didn't understand how badly I needed that album. So I went elsewhere. I tried special ordering it at another store, and that didn't seem to work. My patience was nearly gone at this point. But I had one final solution — Lou's. Good old Lou's! My reliable, yet distant friends!

Within an instant of setting foot inside the seaside record depot, I bolted straight to the D section, quite to my delight, spotting Emergency & I instantly. I nabbed it, though I was hanging out with my friends at the time and they were in the mood for listening to something else, so we listened to other records on the drive to dinner and on the way home. As I finally made it home, I slipped the album into my 5-disc changer and promptly pressed play.

Whoa.

My Keanu-like reaction was the only appropriate response I could muster up in the wake of hearing Emergency. It was the weirdest thing I had ever heard, but it was the greatest thing I had ever heard. The Plan knew how to fuck with conventions, that's for sure. But they still maintained a peculiarly accessible sensibility, something that other D.C. bands in the early nineties had evaded to some extent. They displayed a strong District punk influence, though the keyword is "influence," as they merely used Jawbox and Fugazi as a starting point and veered off into their own oddball direction.

The Dismemberment Plan grooved. From the fat synth gargles in "A Life of Possibilities" to the funk bassline of "Spider in the Snow" to the hands-in-the-air house party vibe of "Back and Forth." These white boys had soul, which led many to compare them to Talking Heads, to date the funkiest pale Caucasians to grace our green earth.

But the Dismemberment Plan also rocked. "What Do You Want Me To Say?" was a rock anthem, "Memory Machine" used one of the dirtiest organ sounds known to man while Travis Morrison shouted frantically and "I Love a Magician" was abrasive and noisy, but oddly danceable and catchy. In spite of all of the band's attempts to throw things out of whack, they still managed to crank out some hard rockers that could get a crowd moving.

The Dismemberment Plan were more than just grooves and hard riffs, though. The remaining six songs didn't seem to fit in to any neat, organized category. "The City" and "Gyroscope" were accessible synth-driven new wave pop gems, but certainly not by New Order's standards. "You Are Invited" saw Travis reciting lyrics a cappella over a drum machine beat and "The Jitters" was remarkably spare and melancholy. But nothing on the album even came close to the weirdness of "Girl O'Clock," a hyperactive spazzcore exercise in white boy freak outs that saw Travis stuttering the following: "If I don't have s-s-s-sex by the end of the week, I'm g-g-g-going to diiiiiie!

And while we're on the subject, lyrical content in the Plan's music was equally bizarre, as Travis Morrison crafted songs out of pretty much any topic he saw fit. Songs ranged from tales of subterranean isolation, nuclear war, nymphomania, mysterious party invitations, relationships, loneliness and, in the case of "The Jitters," emotional numbness that sees the narrator morphing into a Travis Bickle-like sociopath.

After hearing Emergency & I once…mmm…maybe twice, it had already made it into my top ten records of all time. Most of the other records I owned didn't have a chance. The Dismemberment Plan were just so unique, innovative, bizarre and, of course, fun. I soon became a regular at their shows, dancing onstage to "The Ice of Boston" and singing along with every song on their set lists. But, unfortunately, the band called it quits last year after one last tour. It's a shame that they're gone. Really, there were few bands that had as much energy and creativity both live and in the studio as The Dismemberment Plan. But maybe it's all for the best. I'd rather have four great D Plan albums than four great ones and one mediocre one.

Similar albums:
Candy Machine - A Modest Proposal
Brainiac - Hissing Prigs in Static Couture
Q and Not U - No Kill No Beep Beep


Jeff Terich
10.03.2004