Not Career Musicians: An Interview With Travis Morrison About The Dismemberment Plan And Life Afterwards

by austin ray

Conducted via phone on May 8, 2003

Sometimes it seems like the old cliché rings true: You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone. Although The Dismemberment Plan was around for just over 10 years and put out four nearly-always excellent albums, it still feels like the band was taken before its time. Alas, that’s the way the indie rock cookie crumbles. This interview was conducted right before the Plan headed out on its farewell tour. Travis touches on emo, Vietnamese food, Life of Brian and i-tunes. We also got around to talking about more pertinent things, such as his solo career and that whole breakup thing.

Where are you today?

Right now I’m in San Francisco at Hall of Justice Studios. It’s Chris Walla’s hovel. I am doing work on the solo stuff. Chris has a Death Cab For Cutie meeting right now and I have you. I don’t exactly have my hands on the faders, but yeah, that’s why I’m here.

Lot of interviews today?

This is the third. I got my coffee and that made things a lot better.

Well, I won’t be as worried that you’ve had the same questions a dozen times already, then.

Just ask me about me emo. Actually, it seems like that moment is over. No one’s asking about emo. What happened to emo? I feel bad for emo now.

Maybe people finally figured out it’s a worthless word.

Right. Maybe people figured out we’re just not.

They’ve been asking why the Plan is emo, or...

Well, actually, what they’d ask me is, ‘How do you feel being called emo?’ It was a weird cycle. No reporter ever actually claimed – because they’d either be a lunatic or would have never listened to our records ever – that we were emo. They talked about how I felt being called emo. Have you ever seen Life of Brian? There’s this scene where he’s got these followers and they keep calling him the messiah and he’s like, ‘I’m not the messiah.’ And they keep saying, ‘The messiah denies his holiness.’ And so finally, two-thirds of the way through the movie, he’s like, ‘All right, I am the messiah,’ and they go, ‘He is the messiah!’” (laughter)

Well, don’t give in. Please don’t accept that you’re emo.

I am emo! (laughter)

There’s really no way to segue into it, the breakup. Maybe you could just...

We hate each other. We totally hate each other. That’s it. The end. Fuck them! I’m taking all the money.

Maybe you could give a little background. What events led up to it?

The main thing that drove the decision was that our songwriting and arranging energy was running low. We were always a very collaborative band, which I can’t get through people’s heads. We weren’t a band where there could be one crazy genius, one career musician who helps out in production and then a couple guys who were along for the ride, enjoying the booze and traveling around. We were all in it to win. When the last record came around, the energy wasn’t there in the rehearsal space and it was starting to become a situation where I was writing songs and dictating them to everybody. Who needs that, you know?

The shows were getting better and better and we all agreed we were going to miss playing. We definitely talked about continuing to play a once-a-year free show in D.C., too, because it’s just so good to be on stage. But we also had to make records. We had no visions of ourselves being a band. We reached a certain point where we said, ‘The songwriting catalogue ends here.’ Bands have done great things with that model, I think the Grateful Dead are an example of that, but it’s just not for us. We weren’t four people who wanted to be career musicians. You get to a certain place in life where there are other things you want to do. You’re not really interested in hacking your way through creative quandary.

Did someone just say, “Hey, this isn’t working anymore?”

We didn’t have heaving fights. That stuff was kind of emotional and private, so I’d rather not get into how the conversation went down. I will say that what forced the soul-searching and the eventual honesty from people in the band about who we were and what we should be doing was the search for a new label. We had great, great offers from so many people and I think it was kind of weird because we were trying to figure out why weren’t that excited about it. The reason was that we weren’t really that excited about the band.

It’s funny, because afterwards, I went to chill out a little bit at my favorite Vietnamese café in D.C. I was sitting there eating lunch at the buffet and it was totally empty, but who comes in, but Joe Lally of Fugazi, with his daughter, and he sits at the table next to me. I don’t know the guy at all. So there’s Joe, and he’s in this band that’s been together for 16 years and here’s me, and my band that literally decided to break up two hours ago and we’d been together for 10 years. I know it was a sign, but I still can’t figure out what it was. Maybe it was like God telling me I was doing the right thing. Then again, Fugazi is great, so maybe it was God telling me I was really fucking up. Who knows? Maybe Joe was just hungry.

Now, do you see this as a permanent sort of thing, or do you guys foresee possibly doing something again?

Never say never, but yes. You have no idea what’s going to happen in the future. You really never do. There was some talk about going on the time-honored ‘indefinite hiatus,’ but fuck that.

Bands never get back together after that. It’s just teasing people.

Yeah. Marriages never get back together after separation. There’s a reason they separate. We had talked about continuing to play free shows, which would be a nice way to emphasize what we’re all about, and that’s trying to rock crowds in D.C. That’s all we ever really wanted to do. Everything else was gravy. I definitely suspect there will never be another Dismemberment Plan record. But the shows, we’ll see.

Why a farewell tour? Does that go back to the live aspect?

We like playing live. Here’s the best way to put it: We were talking about making a record with Chris Walla and he was aware there was some malaise within the band and that we weren’t really feeling very excited about working through it. The way Chris put it is that he’d love to make Abbey Road with us – he would love to make one final, joyful, giddy, last-day-of-school document. What he didn’t want to make with us was Let It Be. Like, where people are down and not really into it. The way we all saw it was if we made a record, it would be Let It Be, but a final tour would be Abbey Road. And the shows we’ve done since have borne that out. We’re playing with a new level of commitment, a new level of awareness of what’s going on and a new level of generosity. The crowds are amazing. You have to keep things special somehow. You can’t just ho it out to everyone all the time. (laughter) It’ll definitely be our Abbey Road. This tour will, I’m sure, be one fantastic show after another.

Did you think, 10 years ago, that the Plan was going to last as long as it did?

Yeah, actually I did. We talked about how we didn’t want to be a band that broke up after one record. It’s a real pain in the ass to keep a band together – I won’t lie. It was definitely in the cards, one of the goals. It was higher up there than economic domination, that’s for sure.

I think so, yeah. There was some artistic stuff we took a stand for when it was a weird time to do so. There’s been a gradual opening up artistically of the rock underground. Especially after Nirvana, everyone was very uptight and very conservative. It was a combination of half wanting to be famous and half wanting to be cool, neither conducive to being a good artist. I don’t think we flipped a switch and all of a sudden everybody was doing weird stuff. It wasn’t us. We were a part of something. Look at the Touch & Go roster, now – it’s crazy. Blonde Redhead, Calexico, Black Heart Procession, Enon, it’s mind boggling, the scope of it. I do like to think we were part of an initial wave of bands. We took inspiration from bands that came before us that got nothing for it. The world forgot about Trenchmouth. The world kind of didn’t forget about Braniac. You always have antecedents. That being said, yeah, I think we were one of twenty bands pushing for stylistic scope in a world that wasn’t really psyched about it at that point. As long as we were a part of that, that would be a pretty cool legacy for me.

That goes right into my next question. What do you want the Plan to be remembered for?

Unfortunately, the thing that I would want us to be most remembered for I can’t really claim, because we signed to a major. We actually gave up. In 1998 we said, ‘The underground is not where the cool artistic stuff is happening.’ I mean, Odelay won a Grammy for best album. That album is so brave artistically and out there, and he won. Drive Like Jehu was on a major label – the same label as Dr. Dre. We didn’t really stick with the underground, so I’m trying to claim something I can’t. But we ended up back in the underground anyway due to business problems and then we saw that maybe there were more interesting and fruitful tasks to take as a band there. We kind of got out lives handed back to us. While I don’t think we’re as brave as say, Ted Leo – someone who could’ve made a million dollars on a major, but chose to stick it out on smaller labels – I would love to see that we were a part of an expansion. That you can be a boundary pushing, take-from-anywhere band in the mode of Blur, David Bowie or the Beatles, on a one-person label. That maybe people will come to you. Hopefully we’ll have a little bit to do with that. Hopefully that will continue to happen, too.

On the subject of Ted Leo, I was just about to see him last night in St. Louis, but the day before he axed his tour due to vocal problems.

I’ve seen him like 15 times. He’s great. He’s amazing. Never miss him. It’s disappointing because everyone just now wants to know what Ted Leo’s up to – they finally got it through their heads that Tyranny of Distance is a classic.

Let’s talk some post-Plan things if you don’t mind.

OK.

A friend of mine insists that you should team up with Conor Oberst and Cex to make an indie sad guy group. It made me wonder though, would you ever consider some kind of side project or super group?

Not a sad guy super group. It alarms me deeply that I’m seen as one of the sad guys. One thing about my solo career is when I turn out not to be a sad guy, people are going to be all, ‘Eh...’

I wouldn’t worry too much.

Well, we’ll see, I don’t know. I’m really excited about this phase of my life because, well, the way John Vanderslice described it is that I just got out of a long and earnest, but somewhat misguided marriage, and now I’m at the Playboy mansion trying to decide what bunny I’m going to sleep with next. (laughter) It’s kind of true. I’m going to be musically promiscuous. I want to work with crazy, assorted people. Dismemberment Plan was really insular – we didn’t collaborate with a lot of people. I’m going to get out there, communicate with other artists and play a lot with different people. See what I learn from them.

Are you considering starting a new, serious group that would be your full-time thing?

I’m going to follow my nose in terms of what I want to do, and as far as the classification, the taxonomy of it, I don’t know. The records from here on out will always be my accountability. It will be my job to make them as good as I possibly can. I’m not messing around with collective responsibility anymore.

What about the other guys? I’ve read there is some school, some carpentry and some other things going on. Do you think any other bands or solo project may be forming from them?

Well, I’m not them and I’ve been out of the city for months. They’ve all said no. Joe and Jason have gone on record saying they won’t be doing visible music anymore. Eric is playing with the guys from The Promise Ring. We haven’t really gone into any analysis or shared what we’re doing. I can only really speak for me and tell you what the other guys said. I have a feeling Eric and I will be the ones with the most likelihood of continuing like that.

Along those lines, let’s talk a little about your solo album. What’s it like recording at (John Vanderslice’s) Tiny Telephone Studio?

Well, one problem is that John Vanderslice is always around (laughter). No, it’s a great studio, it’s really funky, it’s in a cool neighborhood. The studio has kind of accumulated – it wasn’t built from an original plan. A lot of really nice studios have what they call ‘amenities.’ That ranges from anything from a hot tub to simply a cable TV, a PlayStation, some magazines and a kitchenette. I think amenities are terrible, because they keep you out of the music. You start to get into this numbed-out place where you’re not paying attention to your record. That stuff drives me crazy. I really like Tiny Telephone because he (Vanderslice) spent all his money on great sound gear – that’s his priority.

He’s quite a sound buff.

He is. He’s a complete maniac – more maniacal than I am. I don’t know what the hell’s going on with sound. But yeah, it’s a great studio and has JV’s thumbprint all over it.

And how’s it coming along? Do you have most of the songs recorded?

I’d say it’s about 70% done. I think maybe in another month it’ll be done. I’ll leave here with four or five good mixes and another seven songs that are waiting to be completed. It’s like the closer you get to your destination when you’re making a record, the slower it goes. We’re at a point where we’re getting closer to the finish line, so we’re slowing down more and more.

(Timeliness note – Though it’s close to a year after this interview, there is still no Travis Morrison album. However, there are currently five mp3’s posted on his site, www.travismorrison.com.)

Do you have a title yet?

Yeah, it’s going to be called NTWR. It stands for No Taxation Without Representation.

Do you know what label it’s going to be on?

No idea. I’ve been label-less for over a year now. In the Plan, there was so many business decisions to keep track of and I got tired of it. It’s cool, but I wanted to let my inner 14-year-old come out and make songs without worrying about a deal. I had money to pay for it and I’m in dialogue with people who can put it out. I’m not worried about that. I just wanted to make a record and say, ‘What do you think? You want it?’

How would you say it differs from the Plan’s material?

I think it’s smoother, more cohesive, certainly much different instrumental colors. There’s a lot more acoustic guitar, not a lot of electric. Lots of piano. The rhythms are less jumpy and abrupt. Yeah, I don’t know. Those are all qualities that describe it. There’s something, to me, that’s kind of childlike about it. It’s very tuneful. You know, I have two nephews now and when you have kids around, you start to think about... It’s definitely a record you can put on for little kids and they’d start dancing around. It’s rollicking and innocent sounding. Change is such a tortured, woe-is-me record, so I really like the idea of doing something different.

Just a few more random questions and then I’ll let you go. I love the “top ten songs of all time” on the website. I was wondering if you could give me your top five records of all time, at this moment.

Greatest hits of Hall and Oates, Greatest Hits of Sonny Boy Williamson, Anti-Pop Consortium, the new Ry Cooder record and the second record by The Band.

If you had to pick a favorite punk band, who would it be and why?

Either The Clash or Fugazi. Probably The Clash. No, no, probably Fugazi. I actually think Fugazi was the logical extension of the punk ideal. They kind of walked the walk that The Clash and Sex Pistols talked, but didn’t really walk themselves. Yeah, I think Fugazi’s it.

What’s the weirdest question you’ve been asked in an interview?

There was somebody who thought one of the lyrics from ‘Time Bomb’ was, (singing) ‘I…I am a pork rind, and I…’ No, I’m serious, they totally saw it as part of the lyrics – the idea that you could suddenly become someone’s snack (laughter). Yeah, I didn’t really know what to tell them.”

You just have to burst that bubble.

I wanted to change the lyric. Genius! I am a pork rind? I don’t have what it takes to sing that lyric.

What are your thoughts on file sharing?

Great. I don’t know what everyone’s problem is. My old band was a child of file sharing. People say how it’s terrible for careers; we’re making comfortable livings. The main thing is your accounting – knowing where your money is going. A lot of artists and labels don’t want to think about that. I think file sharing is fantastic. Hopefully i-tunes will be a good deal, even though you can’t get it for PC. Personally, I would pay to download these songs if it were guaranteed to be good quality, fast connections, all that stuff. Barring that, if they can’t get it together, I just want the songs. So yeah, I love file sharing.

OK, last question. When you think of today’s pop music scene, what’s the first thing that comes to your mind?

I don’t know. Literally. It’s almost too big to describe. Pop music reflects whatever’s going on in the country. At the moment, I can’t even begin to... I’m just not smart enough.

Issue 21, March 2004