The Dismemberment Plan
Emergency & I

THE REVIEW

I don’t often find myself wandering the web in search of new bands to listen to. Maybe a friend suggests a name, or you're scrolling through the list of suggested YouTube videos while once again injecting into your veins the song you've been listening to relentlessly for months, soon to be sick of it. But due to a lack of time and a bit of laziness, you never delve deep. Strangely enough, every time I've dived into something completely new with a little inspiration (perhaps that's the key, it's all a matter of inspiration), concentration, and desire, I've always made sensational discoveries. Few, selected, privileged moments, but good ones. Very good ones. These guys with the unpronounceable name are no exception.

The setting is the Washington post-hardcore of the mid/late '90s, almost orphaned by Fugazi. Indie (already perfectly shaped for quite some time in Albion by its loyal post-punk standard-bearers) is heavily evolving, along a path that only a few years later will lead to global success. Even overseas, things are proceeding similarly. New insights, new solutions, more and more ferment. Add to all this the last gasps of grunge, the doctrine of Slint, just the right amount of math-rock, and a drummer who seems like a ninja. This is the musical humus. One of its most colorful buds is this record.

Without mincing words, it blew me away. Especially what appears to be their most well-known song (and there must be a reason for that, right?): "The City." To get it, just put everything I mentioned before into a nice blender. Then press the start button. In reality, the entire work is an impeccable amalgam. An indie manifesto, a "must-have" for any alternative library. As I said, blown away. After all, the in medias res beginning of "A Life of Possibilities" gives you absolutely no room to escape. In no time, you find yourself catapulted into an atmosphere that vaguely reminds you of Foals. Then, suddenly, granite-like guitars close the piece. They catch you off guard, and you don't even notice it. After the first three pieces, it feels like you're at a party (with very few people, but all in the right place at the right time) where you already know you’ll have a blast. I could then mention the electronic episode of "You Are Invited," another fine effort. And still, songs that resemble actual templates used on a large scale by the majority of "party" indie that marked the entire first decade of the new millennium ("Back and Forth"). But a work like this doesn't deserve track by track. Because it’s predictable. And we are faced with something that is not predictable. So go ahead and listen. Let yourself be swept away by the enthusiasm, the energy, the variety, and the sweat of this crazy crowd that bounces you left and right while you try to firmly hold your beer in a desperate attempt not to spill it on the new shoes you bought just the other day. Unless, of course, you're already completely drunk.

It rocks, sounds current (it’s from '99) and is ahead. In the sense that others are behind, panting and with their tongues hanging out.