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The Dismemberment Plan called it a day in 2003, just before the mainstreaming of indie rock. Financially speaking, at least, their reunion last winter probably made up for it: A band that had never sold out a show in advance was now playing to packed clubs across the country. The group, it turned out, had aged pretty well, which was funny, since their earnestly knowing, genre-hopping art-funk punk has produced few successful imitators. But D-Plan’s three D.C. dates weren’t pleasurable for what changed (the crowd) so much as what hadn’t. Every ritual remained intact: You put your hands in the air during “Back and Forth,” you lost your shit during “The City,” and you rushed the stage during “Ice of Boston.” Only Fugazi, I’d wager, achieved a greater intimacy with its crowd during its existence, and they’re the only group that could pull off a bigger local reunion. But would you really want an Ian MacKaye lecture on etiquette in the age of the smartphone?