Travis Morrison Hellfighters
All Y’all
Barsuk
When Travis Morrison, former vocalist and frontman of Washington’s beloved indie-rock outfit the Dismemberment Plan, released his first solo album, “Travistan,” in 2004, expectations were high.
His former band had expertly pioneered the recent dance-punk craze, and the band’s last two records were critical hits that garnered Mr. Morrison a devoted following nationwide. But the anticipation backfired: Mr. Morrison’s album, an awkward, experimental affair, earned him a round of pans and fan disinterest.
As a result, far less buzz has surrounded the release of his sophomore effort, “All Y’all.” That’s a shame because it is, if not a return to form, a continuation of the zany, unexpectedly poignant musical ideas that originally drew Mr. Morrison into the spotlight.
During his days in the Plan, Mr. Morrison played diarist, cheeky ironist and wry storyteller, often all at once. He continues in this vein on “All Y’all,” effortlessly switching between droll wit and punk-rock melancholy on tracks such as “I’m Not Supposed to Like You (But I Do).” As songs about unrequited love go, it’s far more lighthearted than most, and its self-mocking tone keeps it from rehashing the cliches of rock angst.
As usual, there are numerous nods to life in Mr. Morrison’s hometown. “You Make Me Feel Like a Freak,” a tale of misadventures in D.C. dating, begins with Mr. Morrison singing, “Here we are… Standing at the bar. She says ’Hey don’t you work for NPR?’ ”
Only in Washington.
As told by Mr. Morrison, life is a series of funny, odd and sad interludes — a mishmash of the strange, wonderful and disappointing, which is an accurate description of his musical approach as well. He’s backed by a new band, the Hellfighters, and his arrangements tend to be more keyboard-dominated than those of the Plan. Yet that band’s fans will find much that’s familiar: wide-open guitar flourishes, hiccuping electronic beats and, mostly, Mr. Morrison’s marvelously odd vocal melodies.
“All Y’all” has its flaws — most notably a handful of grating lyrics and some clunky musical transitions — but there’s far more treasure than trash, and even the unpolished edges add zest and character. One gets the feeling that for Mr. Morrison, the imperfections, as much as anything else, keep things interesting.
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