Rating:
Genre:
Rock
Release Date: 09/28/2004
Much like ex-
Pavement frontman
Stephen Malkmus, former
Dismemberment Plan lead singer
Travis Morrison faces the daunting task of detaching himself from the large shadow his juggernaut band cast over the
indie rock community. Free from the democratic constraints
the Plan imposed upon him,
Morrison presents a far more eclectic side of himself than seen on any record prior, and the results were heavily foreshadowed via mp3s on his website during
Travistan's production phase. Nevertheless,
Plan loyalists are almost guaranteed to scrutinize this album from start to finish, deconstructing it on a microscopic level with a magnifying glass to find any possible reason to complain why
Morrison and company called it a day far too soon. The immediate thing that comes through on
Travistan that was missing on some of the
Plan records is that
Morrison sounds like he's having fun experimenting with new sounds and textures (check the
Joe Jackson-esque piano playing on
"The Word Cop") and not brooding so often. Combined with the added relief of starting clean on a new label with a new backing band (including
Death Cab for Cutie's Jason McGuerin) and the freedom to produce without the pressures of making it better than a
Dismemberment record, it's instantaneously notable.
"Get Me Off This Coin," a folksy series of political interludes sprinkled throughout (which could get tiresome to a few people, but that's what fast-forward buttons were made for), and
"Born in '72," which re-creates a live setting with quirky little jabs (and a melodic homage to fellow D.C. residents
Fugazi during the breakdown), let the audience know that
Morrison is well aware of the pressures and expectations of a solo record. One audience member even slyly asks "Think they'll play
'The City'?," a reference to one of
the Plan's well-loved songs. But it's not without fault to say these songs could have been on the next
Plan album. The signature
video game noises and analog synths are still anchors of the song arrangements, and the inclusion of more
electronic-based production only further reinforces the idea that
Morrison is just as versatile behind a mixing board and sampler as he is behind a guitar and a vocal mike.
Morrison's lyrics have always been a strong element of
the Plan's popularity, and here he has never been more creative in his song subjects. A dark and philosophical muse on the mortality of life (
"People Die") is followed by a wish for caged zoo animals to rebel against their captors in rather violent ways (
"Song for the Orca"). There are also two beautiful moments of quiet introspection in
"Any Open Door" and
"Angry Angel," and the closest thing to a
Ben Gibbard homage with the final, untitled track. Make no bones about it,
Morrison is challenging expectations and listeners by stretching his musical boundaries and defying people to come along for the ride through close listening. And those who loved
the Plan for the original angle they brought to a near soulless genre will be pleasantly surprised that
Morrison is holding his own and staying true to himself.
~Rob Theakston, All Music Guide
;)
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