MemoryMachine
01-13-2005, 11:03 AM
http://fusionanomaly.net/dismembermentplanemergencyandi.jpg
Lineup:
Travis Morrison - vocals, guitar, keyboard
Jason Caddell - guitar, keyboard
Eric Axelson - bass, keyboard
Joe Easley - drums
Track Listing:
1. Life of Possibilities
2. Memory Machine
3. What Do You Want Me to Say?
4. Spider in the Snow
5. Jitters
6. I Love a Magician
7. You Are Invited
8. Gyroscope
9. City
10. Girl O'Clock
11. 8½ Minutes
12. Back and Forth
Review:
I kind of regret missing records like these. They only come along once every decade, and usually when they do, they are ignored due to the fact that the record company can’t afford to pay NME / MTV to advertise / review their band / record or give it a bit of screen time. This, plus the fact that the Dismemberment Plan found themselves cut from Interscope records (due to not being sell-outs) after having just completed a new record (a situation that arose again in 2002 when Wilco’s brilliant “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot” was canned) didn’t exactly help either. So in 1999, after having re-signed to DeSoto records, the aptly named “Emergency and I” was finally released.
“Emergency and I” is the kind of record that can change your perception of how good Rock n’ Roll can get. Not only does it single handily sound completely unique in an increasingly recycled genre, it somehow, at the same time, sounds irresistibly like every record you own. It draws (inspiration) from the Pixies, Joy Division, Talking Heads, Radiohead and Sonic Youth, while still remaining sonically exceptional. By somehow avoiding the dregs of modern music and snorting up (Pete Doherty style) the best of the 90’s Indie Pop scene, “Emergency and I” emerges as a record that drips emotion, energy and an enraging intensity, a hallmark ever missing from the current rock climate.
“Emergency and I” may not be the anti-rock, but it sure feels like one. Unlike you’re per usual climax-building opener, “A Life of Possibilities” drives into the vocals within a second, the bass squelching under the trembling of Travis Morrison’s vocals, before satisfyingly soaring to a shimmering climax. While “A Life of Possibilities” thematically hints at social isolation, the staggering “The City” oozes alienation while still remaining uplifting. The synth bass riff swoops and dives over the automated, chiming guitars while the drums clatter and crash like a rocket-propelled tube train. Morrison’s delivery aches loss in love against the contrasting buzz and bustle of city life; “The parks lay empty like my unmade bed / The streets are silent like my lifeless telephone / And this is where I live / But I’ve never felt less at home”. Never has such a masterpiece received such little public adoration; it’s a crying shame.
Morrison’s ability to change singing styles in little to no time is highlighted in the frenetic “I Love A Magician”, as delivery almost crazed in the verses, to harmonious in the chorus. In the supreme slice of Indie Pop pie “Gyroscope” and the uber-Weezer style of “What Do You Want Me To Say?” Morrison hints at an ever-growing frustration with his relationships with the female kind while still remaining unnervingly catchy. “You Are Invited” sees, much akin to their previous records single: “Ice Of Boston”, Morrison narrating a story that revolves around the receiving of a magical invitation that allows access to all the much sought after hotspots. The electronic flickers and drum machine line, climax into the pop-rock chorus before descending back into a comforting final encore.
The renaissance of keyboards in rock music continues on the beautiful “Spider In The Snow”, the false orchestral opening swelling into a panic struck miasma of melody, while Morrison’s sentiments swoon over the top; “The only thing worse than bad memories / Is no memories at all”. “Memory Machine” rides on a cascade of pre-Kid A computer noises and streaming guitars that ring incessantly while the chorus wallows in glowing electronic majesty, sharply contrasting against the futile lyrics (“Someday I’m telling you / They’ll make a memory machine / To wax our hearts to a blinding sheen / To wash away the grief).
The albums finale is perhaps the most breathtaking. The penultimate song “8 ½ Minutes” screeches with a raging confusion; the lurching opening lines: “I launched all the world’s nukes this morning / hoping it would kick-start something” scarring you for life whilst the guitars slice and dice in the background. The dance / funk / punk bass and drum of the closer’s “Back And Forth” are horrifically infectious, as a possessed Morrison sings at an unnerving tempo before becoming almost dangerously passive in the anthemic chorus. The subtle keyboard hooks and edged guitar giving an unbalance mood suited to the song. As the wavering keyboard line screams and the guitars fuzz uncontrollably, the album slinks into an unwanted final silence.
“Emergency and I” should have been huge but such innovation is rarely greeted with open arms. The sole fact that “Emergency and I” still sounds unique six years on is proof of its brilliance (and also proof that Interscope don’t know **** about music). The lyric booklet reads better than half the novels I’ve read whilst singularly relating to everything I’ve ever known. The Dismemberment Plan have managed to forge an album that is almost life changing. It surpasses any expectation I’ve had for modern rock music and shows how a touch of ingenuity and originality can go a long way. In the fray of the modern rock rip-off scene, “Emergency and I” shines brighter than Johnny Borrell’s ego after an NME interview. This is how Rock music should be made.
5/5
Lineup:
Travis Morrison - vocals, guitar, keyboard
Jason Caddell - guitar, keyboard
Eric Axelson - bass, keyboard
Joe Easley - drums
Track Listing:
1. Life of Possibilities
2. Memory Machine
3. What Do You Want Me to Say?
4. Spider in the Snow
5. Jitters
6. I Love a Magician
7. You Are Invited
8. Gyroscope
9. City
10. Girl O'Clock
11. 8½ Minutes
12. Back and Forth
Review:
I kind of regret missing records like these. They only come along once every decade, and usually when they do, they are ignored due to the fact that the record company can’t afford to pay NME / MTV to advertise / review their band / record or give it a bit of screen time. This, plus the fact that the Dismemberment Plan found themselves cut from Interscope records (due to not being sell-outs) after having just completed a new record (a situation that arose again in 2002 when Wilco’s brilliant “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot” was canned) didn’t exactly help either. So in 1999, after having re-signed to DeSoto records, the aptly named “Emergency and I” was finally released.
“Emergency and I” is the kind of record that can change your perception of how good Rock n’ Roll can get. Not only does it single handily sound completely unique in an increasingly recycled genre, it somehow, at the same time, sounds irresistibly like every record you own. It draws (inspiration) from the Pixies, Joy Division, Talking Heads, Radiohead and Sonic Youth, while still remaining sonically exceptional. By somehow avoiding the dregs of modern music and snorting up (Pete Doherty style) the best of the 90’s Indie Pop scene, “Emergency and I” emerges as a record that drips emotion, energy and an enraging intensity, a hallmark ever missing from the current rock climate.
“Emergency and I” may not be the anti-rock, but it sure feels like one. Unlike you’re per usual climax-building opener, “A Life of Possibilities” drives into the vocals within a second, the bass squelching under the trembling of Travis Morrison’s vocals, before satisfyingly soaring to a shimmering climax. While “A Life of Possibilities” thematically hints at social isolation, the staggering “The City” oozes alienation while still remaining uplifting. The synth bass riff swoops and dives over the automated, chiming guitars while the drums clatter and crash like a rocket-propelled tube train. Morrison’s delivery aches loss in love against the contrasting buzz and bustle of city life; “The parks lay empty like my unmade bed / The streets are silent like my lifeless telephone / And this is where I live / But I’ve never felt less at home”. Never has such a masterpiece received such little public adoration; it’s a crying shame.
Morrison’s ability to change singing styles in little to no time is highlighted in the frenetic “I Love A Magician”, as delivery almost crazed in the verses, to harmonious in the chorus. In the supreme slice of Indie Pop pie “Gyroscope” and the uber-Weezer style of “What Do You Want Me To Say?” Morrison hints at an ever-growing frustration with his relationships with the female kind while still remaining unnervingly catchy. “You Are Invited” sees, much akin to their previous records single: “Ice Of Boston”, Morrison narrating a story that revolves around the receiving of a magical invitation that allows access to all the much sought after hotspots. The electronic flickers and drum machine line, climax into the pop-rock chorus before descending back into a comforting final encore.
The renaissance of keyboards in rock music continues on the beautiful “Spider In The Snow”, the false orchestral opening swelling into a panic struck miasma of melody, while Morrison’s sentiments swoon over the top; “The only thing worse than bad memories / Is no memories at all”. “Memory Machine” rides on a cascade of pre-Kid A computer noises and streaming guitars that ring incessantly while the chorus wallows in glowing electronic majesty, sharply contrasting against the futile lyrics (“Someday I’m telling you / They’ll make a memory machine / To wax our hearts to a blinding sheen / To wash away the grief).
The albums finale is perhaps the most breathtaking. The penultimate song “8 ½ Minutes” screeches with a raging confusion; the lurching opening lines: “I launched all the world’s nukes this morning / hoping it would kick-start something” scarring you for life whilst the guitars slice and dice in the background. The dance / funk / punk bass and drum of the closer’s “Back And Forth” are horrifically infectious, as a possessed Morrison sings at an unnerving tempo before becoming almost dangerously passive in the anthemic chorus. The subtle keyboard hooks and edged guitar giving an unbalance mood suited to the song. As the wavering keyboard line screams and the guitars fuzz uncontrollably, the album slinks into an unwanted final silence.
“Emergency and I” should have been huge but such innovation is rarely greeted with open arms. The sole fact that “Emergency and I” still sounds unique six years on is proof of its brilliance (and also proof that Interscope don’t know **** about music). The lyric booklet reads better than half the novels I’ve read whilst singularly relating to everything I’ve ever known. The Dismemberment Plan have managed to forge an album that is almost life changing. It surpasses any expectation I’ve had for modern rock music and shows how a touch of ingenuity and originality can go a long way. In the fray of the modern rock rip-off scene, “Emergency and I” shines brighter than Johnny Borrell’s ego after an NME interview. This is how Rock music should be made.
5/5