The Plan arrives in Chicago for what can only be described as a thought-provoking show. Less than six months ago they appeared in the city as part of the Noise Pop festival, absolutely bringing down the house with numbers from Emergency and its two predecessors (Terrified and the simply titled ! ). During this current visit, it occasionally seems that the band is tired, which would be understandable. But then, as if to make up for the lack of energy, they invite a throng of friends, replete with a tap dancer, onto the stage to get down to the groove. Spirited versions of early songs such as the brilliantly titled "First Anniversary of Your Last Phone Call" and "The Dismemberment Plan Gets Rich" follow, leaving one's head shaking.

The evening's performance is not entirely flawless, nor infectious, but perhaps that's the point. Growth does not come without its own awkward phases. One thing can be certain --- The Plan never play it safe. Change does not reveal all of its true charms upon first blush, and The Plan rarely disappoint, so this particular audience member will graciously forgive them a spotty evening. He knows that taking a chance on catching The Plan hitting on all cylinders is perhaps the best bet in whatever town they may be playing, and an off night for The Plan is never "off" the whole night. After all, the disappointment only really arises from the fact that these guys went out and raised the bar so fucking high in the first place.

With Change out on store shelves, and the band returning from a recent tour of Europe, Altar Native was able to throw a few queries to Travis before The Plan passed through Chicago on a whirlwind tour of dates before the holidays.

Altar Native: The Plan just returned from a brief series of shows in Europe. Is there any difference in how the band is received there, in comparison to the States?

Travis Morrison: Oh, certainly. On the continent, in particular, they have a real culture of treating artists well. You get really great meals and bedding and a fair guarantee, even if three people show up. In the United States, artists are really treated like dogshit.

That being said, however, I'm glad I've had experience with both cultures. American artistic culture is Darwinian in the extreme, and I think that's good. It's hard work to tour America, and no one helps you at all, and as such it's really toughed us up. And then we appreciate the great cheese and baguettes waiting for us at the Lyon show even more!

AN: Given the increasing audience you guys are getting, is there still a feel of being a part of the D.C. "scene" --- or do you think too much is made of bands' association with their hometowns?

TM: I've trained myself to be completely passive about what context people put my band. Two years ago, the rock press suddenly started calling us Emo, and no one had ever called us that before. Why? I haven't the slightest idea. I guess it's because we're from D.C. and have played shows with Jawbox and Braid. It'll go away, and there'll be some new, inexplicable consensus on the part of people that literally don't know what they're talking about, and I'll just keep on writin' songs.

I personally do feel my band could only have emerged in Washington, D.C. I think our mix of ambition and basement-show directness is very much a product of being in equal thrall to International, African-American D.C. and to White, Basement-Show, Punk D.C.

AN: You guys push together some very disparate influences, and still manage to make it work. Is there a sense of anything that anyone in the band is into that would be out of bounds? And if so, have there been any interesting failed experiments?

TM: Mmm, not really. Our guitarist claims to want to play blues-rock but I'm not really sure what he means and I don't think he does either! Ten minutes of that kind of squeaky Blues Brothers stuff in practice seems to cure him of it. And actually, there have been garage-y blues-rock riffs sprinkled through our music for a long time, so that's in there too. No, anything's valid. But it does have to have soul--- it can't sound forced. Not that that hasn't stopped us before...

AN: With the title of the new long player being Change, some folks out there are making a bit of a big deal about how this album is just that, but it seems to follow a fairly methodical progression from "Emergency." Do you guys head into the studio with a conscious effort to do something different, or is it just a natural progression that doesn't need to be forced?

TM: Both, I think. We aren't so primitive about it that we don't know where we're going, but at the same time, we follow our instincts. We hit a new-material wall for a time after Emergency & I and we just fucked around until we realized that what we needed to do was make something really rich and nuanced, and not based on head-crushingly catchy choruses set up by quiet verses.

AN: Do you (Morrison) write all of the lyrics? It seems that some of the whimsy (?) of earlier albums has been replaced by melancholy, (not that either could be construed as better than the other), would you say this is accurate? If so, any insight?

TM: Well, I thought there was melancholy in the first records, too. Some of the stuff on the second record [The Dismemberment Plan Is Terrified] is actually pretty heavy---there's a very direct song about being angry at a friend that killed themselves, for example. I think the early records were more a reaction to all that I'm-dumb-I'm-a-freak self-loathing-by-numbers stuff from the early nineties. Kurt Cobain obviously did it with real humor and soul and emotional depth, but so many other people just sounded totally rote. So it seemed interesting to do some stuff that was really pointedly into calling people out and telling people to stop feeling sorry for themselves. As time went by, though, I got interested in hitting more introspective or reflective notes.

AN: The sequence of Change seems to essentially build over the duration, until hitting a peak on "Time Bomb" and "The Other Side" and having "Ellen and Ben" serve as a sort of denouement, whereas an album like "Terrified" seemed to revel in jarring transitions. In either case, do you guys have any debates about the sequencing of an album?

TM: Not vigorous ones. Our music seems to arrange itself really easily. Also, I'm a sequencing freak and I make myself very unpleasant until I get my way! Generally, however, our individual sequencings are shockingly similar.

AN: How does the writing process of the band work? Do individuals bring ideas/songs to the band, or do you guys jam and improvise (combo of both?)

TM: Combo of both. I have song ideas--just emotional directions or topics, or cool lyric ideas with a nicely matched melody--and we just make noise until the guys play something that I can match to it. I do play the role of musical supervisor, but it isn't so much that I write the songs as that I make sure that, in the end, what we've done IS a song.

AN: With regard to writing and musical ideas, how are conflicts within the band resolved?

TM: Hmm. We usually all back away from it real quick and come back later on. I try to give in on most things because I want to save my karma for the few things I think really make a difference.

AN: Do you take inspiration from non-musical sources, such as novels or movies? If so, have there been any that have had a large impact on you?

TM: Sure. A million things. Too many to name, to be honest.

AN: Seeing The Plan live seems to create an immense need for the audience to let it all hang out and dance, but not in the typical mindless mosh pit sense. To what extent does audience reaction dictate the style, song selection, or temperament of your shows?

TM: Very much so. We really try to pay attention to what's going on out there. I mean, it would be rude to do otherwise, right?