http://www.pitchforkmedia.com/article/feature/42648-live-the-dismemberment-plan Live: The Dismemberment Plan
Black Cat, Washington, D.C.; 28 April 2007
Live Review by Dave Maher | Photo by Shervin Lainez
Every Dismemberment Plan show was an event. Each set the D.C. quartet played during their 10-year existence had the potential to turn into a huge dance party with fans flooding the stage, and there were a few elements that were practically guaranteed: medleys of Top 40 covers and a boatload of charismatic moves from frontman Travis Morrison. So for their reunion shows to be successful, all the band needed to do was play the kind of shows they had played all the time before disbanding in 2003. And they did.
The circumstances of the reunion kept there from being too much pressure on the band. These were two hometown benefits with 100% of the money from ticket sales going to help Callum Robbins-- son of Jawbox vocalist and guitarist J. Robbins and Janet Morgan-- fight a debilitating motor neuron disease called Spinal Muscular Atrophy. The worst we could expect was two bad shows for a great cause.
Of course, no one expected the worst on Saturday. After the straightforward riff rock of Owls & Crows and a fun and occasionally tender set from Beauty Pill (who featured Aloha's Cale Parks and T.J. Lipple behind two drum kits), the crowd was tense with anticipation. When Morrison first appeared on stage, he went about setting up equipment with a straight face, but after some time and a few cheers, he cracked an amused, mischievous smile. Following an introduction from J. Robbins in which he devastatingly explained his son's condition and thanked everyone involved with all of the recent benefits for Callum, the Plan took the stage.
Their first three songs seemed almost comically chosen to comment on the nature of the reunion itself: "Do the Standing Still", followed by "What Do You Want Me to Say" and "Following Through" ("It could have been good/ It could have been something special"). But the setlist's meta-commentary ended there and gave way to two hours worth of a great Dismemberment Plan show.
In jeans and a t-shirt, Morrison was dressed down but in peak form: He ad-libbed lyrics and changed melodies, and his emotional range on stage was incredible. He could be frantic, sexual, confused, ironic, or sincere, but he was always sensitive to the songs, perfectly matching the perspective of each one. On stage, he's the indie Prince, more down-to-earth but just as scarily possessed.
The other members of the band also had no trouble assuming their old roles. Bassist and occasional keyboard player Eric Axelson played Morrison's affable counterpoint when the singer had to sit on his lap because of an equipment malfunction the first night that required them to share a keyboard during desperation jam "Girl O'Clock". Drummer Joe Easley was the ungodly awesome robot he is on the records, and Jason Caddell remained cool in the midst of the chaos around him whether he was playing guitar or keyboard.
The band's set was justly skewed toward material from Emergency & I, but each of their albums was represented. They even played two songs from !, "Onward, Fat Girl" and second (and final) encore closer "Rusty". Unexpectedly, there were no recognizable covers except for an abbreviated version of Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely" in which Morrison changed "she" to "he", presumably in tribute to Callum. The crowd did invade the stage for "The Ice of Boston", but since it was only the first song of their first encore, Morrison asked them to leave so the band could play "several more" songs. On his way down, one fan handed Travis a souvenir: a license plate that said "MRGNC&I".
At one point in the show, someone up front requested "The Other Side", and Morrison responded by saying, "You always want to hear the depressing shit." They eventually played the song, but it was a funny thing for him to say because so many Dismemberment Plan songs are depressing, at least in part. A majority of the songs on their last two albums are about people in situations where they feel alienated and alone, and that is depressing shit. Where the Dismemberment Plan succeeded so mightily while they were active was in their ability to combine Morrison's acute lyrical descriptions of the isolation of early adulthood with a cornucopia of musical influences that made a party of that isolation.
The band played a particularly moving version of "Spider in the Snow" on Saturday. The opening lyric of that song is "The only thing worse than bad memories/ Is no memories at all." Fortunately, those aren't our only options, and they certainly weren't at these shows. Thanks again for the party, guys.
