Anything of substance that I could ever say about Nashville garage rock deities Diarrhea Planet can already be found in the 1,200-word feature I wrote for Paste. Anything else I can say would probably consist of links to hand-held Youtube videos of the band’s live shows (like the one below) surrounded by a colony of exclamation marks. I saw DP perform a day after copy was due, which is unfortunate because I probably would have written another 1,000 words on what an existential mind/body enema their batshit concerts truly are.
I’ve read a few reviews of DP’s new stellar album I’m Rich Beyond Your Wildest Dreams (which I’m still obsessively listening to) questioning the necessity of four guitars. What a sort of joyless, cynical crying-into-a-vat-of-generic-ice-cream-at-4-AM cavity of a soul would even ask such a question? The 6-string brotherhood of Jordan Smith, Evan Bird, Brent Toler, and (especially) Emmett Miller is forged in blood and rewired Telecasters, brewing a perfect storm of ragged fifth chord maelstroms and articulate triplet fury. Guys, really: it’s so good.
My relationship with the group isn’t strictly professional; I temporarily played guitar in a band called Big Surr, a noise rock surf outfit where many of DP’s members claimed home a few years ago. Literally all of the guitar parts I played were originally written by Emmett Miller, who studied Classical Guitar Composition. Miller’s riffs were undeniably complex and catchy, incorporating more flourishes and theory than I could ever conjure in a decade. That subversively deep skill lies at DP’s soul; the group’s so utterly unpretentious (if the name didn’t tip you off) and devoted to creating addictive aural riff montages. Do yourself a favor and check the new album out on Spotify via the graphic link below. I was able to also take a few pictures during their show. The lighting wasn’t phenomenal, but the images should give you a decent idea of the Bacchanal rock’n roll revelry Diarrhea Planet has made synonymous with its tours.