Dirty Projectors is the alias for New York-based singer/songwriter
Dave Longstreth, who had debuted under his own name with the home-made
The Graceful Fallen Mango (This Heart Plays Records, 2002).
The lo-fi feeling was still prevalent on The Glad Fact (Western Vinyl, 2003),
although the degree of eccentricity had already skyrocketed.
After a surreal instrumental overture, Glad Fact mimicks the vocal
harmonies of the doo-wop era but then turns into a neurotic psychodrama
of shrieks and laments.
Off Science Hill sounds like a misguided attempt to recreate the
atmosphere of a ballad from the same age.
Ground Underfoot digs even deeper, into smoky nocturnal lounge jazz.
Naked We Made It mocks the jangling folk-rock style of the 1960s.
A retro feeling exudes also from My Offwhite Flag, that may
sound like an exotic-tinged ditty by the
Drifters before the
madhouse drums and horns move centerstage.
It's the madhouse element that prevails, though, in songs such as the
lopsided David Thomas-esque litany
Boredom Is A Product,
the introverted blues dirge Lit From Below,
the neoclassical ballad sung in an operatic register over an
obsessive quasi-boogie rhythm Three Brown Finches.
Further misplaced is the shapeless
Imaginary Love, with
gospel organ and twangy guitar.
The arrangements are spartan, somewhat irrational and sometimes plain
The musical nadir of skeletal lullabies such as
Like Fake Blood in Crisp October
(that mauls a melody worthy of Queen)
Two Brown Finches
(that squanders a melody worthy of a Broadway musical)
pushes Longstreth far away from the center of mass of lo-fi
songwriters of the 1990s.
Proud of his vocal gift, Longstreth tended to howl his confessions rather than
whisper them. Facing up his inner ghosts, he let his voice waver,
crack, whip and soar.
Longstreth came through as a hybrid being,
like a cross between Andrew Bird and Sufjan Stevens, capable of vocal gymnastics that challeges
the dogmas of singing.
After the Internet release Morning Better Last (States Rights, 2003),
that collected unreleased material from three triple albums of 2001 and 2002,
Slaves' Graves and Ballads (Western Vinyl, 2004),
that collects the material of two prior EPs, refined the project
by adding the arrangements of a ten-piece chamber orchestra (the Orchestral
Society for the Preservation of the Orchestra) on a group of songs
that further enhanced the melodramatic element as well as
the eccentric nature of his performance.
On the Beach conveys his psychosis through a surreal luxuriant
soundscape that wed the VanDyke Parks and
Hazard Lights is an odd blend of traditional folk music and avantgarde
The grand aria of Grandfather's Hanging is dwarfed by
baroque and romantic passages.
The peak of pathos is achieved in Grandfather's Hanging, a gentle lullaby
punctuated by martial and jarring arrangements.
The second EP (for just voice and acoustic guitar) basically represents
the alter-ego of this ornate music, but ultimately
it sticks to the same loud and neurotic persona.
The naked and whispered Unmoved,
the tiptoeing meditation of Since I Opened
and the serenade-like croon of
Ladies You Have Exiled Me,
focus on his lyrical (and sane) side, and complement the
turbulent bard of the first half.
The man has never sounded so sober and linear as on this EP.
The Getty Address (Western Vinyl, 2005) is an over-reaching effort
that loses most of the captivating idiosyncracies of
The Glad Fact
as it tries to live up to avantgarde compositional techniques and
post-modern deconstruction theory.
The orchestral experiments of
Slaves' Graves and Ballads form the foundations for songs that
are scored for the most unlikely combinations of voices and instruments.
Not all of them work, but
I Sit on the Ridge at Dusk for women's choir, cowbells and orchestra,
D. Henley's Dream for fluttering orchestra and ghostly choir (perhaps
the most intriguing score),
Time Birthed Spilled Blood for strings and drum loops (sung by a female
and especially Warholian Wigs for orchestra, glockenspiel, guitar and several percussion instruments,
rank among the most creative pieces yet assembled by the digital generation.
The female choir, in particular, is much more than just a decoration, acquiring
the status of lead "voice" in Gilt Gold Scabs,
and dueting with the singer in Finches' Song At Oceanic Parking Lot like
bacchants in a Greek tragedy.
The creative nonsense of The Glad Fact is still alive and kicking only
in musical puzzles such as I Will Truck,
Ponds & Puddles and especially
Not Having Found, whose digital effects, intricate vocal counterpoint,
syncopated drum loops and horns evoke the
exotic and decadent music-hall of Kevin Ayers.
His passion for popular music of the past still yields
Tour Along the Potomac for handclap, glockenspiel, drums and trumpet,
a tribute of sorts to the jazz age, and
Jolly Jolly Jolly Ego, a disco shuffle fronted by a soul falsetto.
This was the Dirty Projectors' most difficult album yet, a painstakingly
assembled charade of more psychological than aural events.
The neurotic introspection of The Glad Fact had turned into an
enigmatic and unbalance form of extroversion.
The Getty Address is occasionally terrific and terribly occasional.
Rise Above (Dead Oceans, 2007) was a reinterpretation of Black
Flag's Damaged. Not just a tribute album, but a song-by-song
alteration of the original sound and spirit: lightning-speed
guitar riffs turned into orchestral passages, angrily
shouted refrains turned into crooning or multi-part vocal harmonies,
dissonance turned into muzak.
Rather than covers these are remixes, as Dave Longstreth takes an unlimited
number of liberties with the original material.
It almost sounds like an insult to the memory of a hero. A sort of post-mortem
Bitte Orca (Domino, 2009) achieved a more uniform synthesis of the
two artistic egos of Longstreth's schizophrenia:
the eccentric and precarious constructs of The Glad Fact versus
the classy and intricate orchestration of The Getty Address.
The result disappoints in Cannibal Resource, that sounds like
a funky-soul ballad covered by a group of noise-rock circa 1985
(by the likes of Polvo).
Fluorescent Half Dome is an even more serious stab at languid
Another dancefloor ditty, Stillness Is The Move, fares better on
account of the almost a-cappella female vocals over a catchy syncopated beat.
But this is another act, only vaguely related to the original mission of the
The jarring and convoluted Temecula Sunrise, however, shows
how the concept can still succeed: the vocals span a number of styles
while the guitar grates, the drums fiddle around aimlessly and the female choir
pretends to know which melody is being sung.
The Bride reinvents the format of the folk elegy juxtaposing
hard-rock riffs and old-fashioned choral hums.
Remade Horizon is so volatile that it sounds like the mix of a
hysterical dj, although with strong African overtones.
Another female lead carries the gentle neoclassical melody of
Two Doves in a simple scenario, barely perturbed by low-key strings.
This is a third strand of the album, hardly related to the other two.
Useful Chamber sort of mixes all three strands. There is a simple
folk-soul melody, there is a disco beat, there is a female choir; but then
a discordant guitar abruptly breaks the mold, the drums slow down, and the
wordless female choir takes the lead, although it doesn't seem to have
a song to sing. Longstreth rants like
Van Morrison at his most delirious, and
then delves into a hard-rock jam.
Longstreth has rediscovered the classic song format, and the result is far
less personal than before.
Mount Wittenberg Orca (2010) was a collaboration with
Continuing the descent into simple, traditional, radio-friendly structures,
Swing Lo Magellan (Domino, 2012) is the album of a derivative
singer-songwriter (Dave Longstreth) who has listened to a lot of pop hits of
the 1960s (and even earlier decades):
Offspring Are Blank harks back to
the operatic hard-rock of the
Gun Has No Trigger is a
Paul McCartney-ian ballad,
Swing Lo Magellan evokes Bob Dylan circa 1964,
Dance for You echoes Phil Spector's hits,
Impregnable Question matches a stuttering ska beat with a
and Irresponsible Tune even travels back to the era of doo-wop vocal
groups. None of these would have made it to the albums of the originals.
There are a few eccentric moments that link back to the band's early days,
sub-bass enhanced digital balladry of The Socialites (with Amber Coffman again on lead vocals)
to Maybe That Was It, that surprisingly slides into
Art Bears-like jazz-rock.
The return to simplicity has come full circle.
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