I’d forgotten how crazy and great
this music was. Claps, subsonic
bass, acapella female voices,
nutty lyrics, great, rubbery,
pitch-perfect, jazzy tenor lead vocals,
gnarly guitar, a goofy and
groovy mix of real drums
and machines, odd time signatures,
impossible sounding figures,
warbley and wobbly synthesizers,
suddenly a string section,
female lead vocal here and there,
abrupt stops and dropouts,
cacophonous and quiet together,
sometimes lo-fi, most times
pristinely engineered,
exhibiting masterful musicianship,
Dirty Projectors make a noise
that is inscrutable and cool.
I haven’t pulled these records
out in a long time. The first,
Swing Lo Magellan, is immediately
tickling my prog-pop funny bone.
Not a dull moment on this whole thing.
Their next album continues with
the madness. The first song, “Keep
Your Name,” a strange kind of slow
ballad in which the vocal is pitched
down to what sounds like the wrong
speed. Even in what otherwise might
sound like a conventional pop song,
David Longstreth does his best to make
things weird, low pitches, high pitches,
and a bridge in which he raps, more
nutty synthesizers, autotune experiments,
and noises that make you think something
is broken. All kinds of left turns. This record
is also undeniably interesting and
wild, but I don’t know these songs well.
Something in 2017 prevented me from
spinning it in heavy rotation. It’s a bit
more experimental, emphasizes less
conventional song structure; it could be
that I just liked it less. Dirty Projectors have
made unpredictability a central part of
their brand, so it makes sense that in those
extreme turns they’re going to lose me
every once in a while. I mean, I like this,
but the songs are so odd, I’d have to listen
over and over in order to integrate this baby
into my heart and head. I’m not saying that
wouldn’t be worth the effort.
My last Dirty Projectors record on vinyl is
Lamp Lit Prose, the cover of which
features this bizarre photo of what
appears to be blue and red sculptures
of blown glass, facing each other, almost
touching, floating above an assortment
of green leaves and sprigs, yellow and red flowers.
This particular image of the blue and red
bulbous spheres reoccurs across the band’s
discography, 2004, 2009, and for this record
in 2018. I can’t tell you what it means.
Could I google that? I could, but I won’t.
So tempting. But this is about music, after
all, not album art, even though sometimes
the art kind of calls out to be spoken to.
Let’s get back to listening. Lamp Lit Prose
opens with a kind of folk number,
acoustic guitar, vocal, drum machine,
but, as is true for most of these songs,
it gets stranger and full of surprises
as it progress, complete with horn
blasts, organs, more horns;
it goes completely baroque. This album
might be more tuneful than the last
one, and I remember these songs a little
bit better. “I Feel Energy” is almost a
dance tune. You’d just have to keep moving
even when the drums drop out.
There’s enough pulse going on with the
other instruments, so go ahead and dance.
The record concludes with a big band
ballad with drums that play in reverse
as David croons behind the horns.
There was another full length
Dirty Projectors album and a series of five
E.P.s that followed this Lamp Lit Prose, but for
some reason, I did not acquire them.
The level of joy I’m feeling with this trio
of albums here in my collection
has caused me to regret that omission.
I think I have some catching up to do.
P.S. I just attempted to stream the 2025
Song of the Earth. Could not make it further
than about three and a half tracks. I’ll skip
this one, maybe try to find the E.P.s, some
of which I have heard and liked.
Notes on the vinyl editions:
- Swing Lo Magellan, Domino Records, 2012, black vinyl.
- Dirty Projectors, Domino Records, 2017, double black vinyl, audio on three sides.
- Lamp Lit Prose, Domino Records, 2018, translucent red vinyl. Not a great pressing. Lots of pops. First song was skipping until I applied cleaning fluid and wiped it down with a cloth.
In case you don’t already know: I’m listening to almost everything in my vinyl collection, A to Z, and writing a long skinny poem-like-thing in response for each artist. As a poet and a student of poetry, I understand that these things look like poems, but they don’t really sound much like poetry, hence, I call them “poem-like-things.” I’ll admit that they’re just long, skinny essays that veer every now and then into the poetic or lyric.
michael jarmer 