Artists experiencing alienation from their surroundings is nothing special. What makes an artist great is his total sense of self-awareness and ability to communicate his thoughts and emotions. Unfortunately, mindsets that lend themselves to self-awareness often result in an inability to interact with others in a socially acceptable manner. Unable to find meaning in their interpersonal relationships, misunderstood artists may find themselves in a state of isolation.
Although some artists thrive in their seclusion, satisfied to create music in an environment separate from common society, others desperately long to fit in, to find their place as normal members of society. Staying true to their calling, many of these artists communicate their desperate longing to fit in through their music. On The Dismemberment Plan’s 1999 magnum opus Emergency & I, Travis Morrison, the lead singer, guitarist, and artistic leader of the band, reveals his state of social inadequacy.
Intricately blending several genres into one instantly memorable style, Morrison creates music that is both extremely emotional and well-crafted. His lyrics portray a man distrustful of the people around him, caught in a cycle of useless, repetitive introspection that prevents him from successfully interacting with the world around him. An extremely gifted vocalist, Morrison’s voice captures his rapidly changing emotions, shifting seamlessly from vulnerability to bitterness then to a confident falsetto as he communicates lyrics of melancholy, jealous anger, and heartbreak.
Despite his prowess, there is much more to The Dismemberment Plan than Morrison’s brilliant voice. For the album’s entire span, every member of The Dismemberment Plan demonstrates extremely adept musicianship. Pounding on his drums with an animalistic energy, Joe Easley provides a memorable drum solo on the chaotic “Girl O’ Clock.” On “Back and Forth,” the album’s final track, bassist Eric Axelson compliments Easley’s energetic drumming with a catchy bass line that clearly reveals the band’s R&B and funk influences.
Although talented individual musicianship can result in uneven arrangements in lesser-known bands, in The Dismemberment Plan, each element coalesces perfectly into one harmonious expression of loneliness. Just listen to “The City,” the album’s obvious peak, in which each instrument enters the song individually within the song’s first minute. By the time the synthesizer finally begins playing, the band has created one achingly beautiful concord of sound. Finally, Morrison’s bitter voice enters the composition, describing the desolate urban landscape that symbolizes his inner being.
Few albums are as well-sequenced as this one. Each song flows seamlessly into the next. Ideas from previous songs are continued, explored, or even contradicted in the next one. Furthermore, the album manages to strike a fantastic balance between accessible songs with memorable pop hooks (“What Do You Want Me To Say,” “Gyroscope,” “The City”) and experimental, challenging numbers that display raw emotion and brilliant musicianship (“I Love a Magician,” “Girl O’ Clock”).
Heard as a whole, the album sounds bitter and depressing, asserting the reality that social anxiety is both unavoidable and incapable of being fully overcome. Heard on a song-by-song basis, the listener recognizes the band’s complex musicianship and knack for a well-written pop hook.
This album is guaranteed to appeal to both fans of intricate, album-based rock music and those who can relate to the struggle of the secluded artist. I highly recommend it.
