Dirty Projectors - Lamp Lit Prose

The Guardian 80

(Domino)
This polar opposite of Dave Longstreth’s previous break-up howl, this album is impossible to resist

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If you’re one of those people who reflexively hates anything hip, Dirty Projectors will profoundly aggravate you. If the Brooklyn-formed group were juice, they would be cold-pressed; if they were an apartment, it would be a converted warehouse full of rare cacti; and if their rather torrid saga became a movie, it would be directed by Noah Baumbach. They have the – potentially annoying – hyper-literacy of the economically comfortable middle-class hipster, both lyrically and in their diverse influences (African pop, classical minimalism, R&B, punk). They also have a propensity for moments of bow-legged wackiness; a restive Dr Seuss energy makes them scurry from one thing to the next, often within the same song, which you may need to acquire a taste for.

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Thu Jul 12 11:00:39 GMT 2018

Pitchfork 74

Dave Longstreth is on a madcap quest for personal and political salvation on his latest album, reviving a more hopeful, chipper kind of songwriting of his past.

Mon Jul 16 05:00:00 GMT 2018

Drowned In Sound 70

Much like any of Dave Longstreth's three or four-minute mind-bending epics, we have been on somewhat of a journey with Dirty Projectors. Since his breakout piece, the inspired Black Flag re-works of Rise Above to the band's crowning achievement Bitte Orca through to the folksy Swing Lo Magellan there was a period not that long ago where they were perhaps considered amongst one of the most exciting bands in the game. As a result, Longstreth has worked alongside Björk, Rhianna, Kanye West and Solange, as well as composed classical arrangements for the likes of Joanna Newsom and New York-based Ensemble LPR.



However, things turned sour during this period for the band, with longtime fellow key guitarist, vocalist and songwriter Amber Coffman departing from the band due to the demise of her relationship with Longstreth. Though she would work with him to produce her solo record City of No Reply as platonic friends, there was apparent bitter resentment on Longstreth's end, something he displayed for all to see on last year's self-titled album - ironically chosen given it is fundamentally a solo album. Dirty Projectors split opinion somewhat, as witnessing Longstreth peel away the curtain on some the band's most loved moments - such as his now apparent dismissal of the Coffman-fronted 'Stillness Is The Move' - was a particularly tough listen both as a fan of the band and the personal lives of people involved for the sake of catharsis.

It seems though, with their second album in as many years, Lamp Lit Prose, Longstreth has got through his dark period - not so subtly displayed by the self-titled's artwork - and is looking ahead again with a new optimism. Coffman's contributions are still missed, but Longstreth has enlisted guests such as HAIM (though they're not credited to a particular song here, one assumes their backing vocals are featured throughout in subtle places or were eventually axed), Amber Mark, Empress Of, Robin Pecknold of Fleet Foxes and Rostam of Vampire Weekend. Though this is still very much Longstreth-led, it's pleasant to have a little bit of a breaking up of voices with his assembled guests.

Musically, Lamp Lit Prose is Longstreth's poppiest, hook-laden and playful release to date. On opener 'Right Now', Longstreth literally "strikes up the band/while we can light the land" as a direct response to his new-found optimism away from last year's jadedness, apparently helped in part by the courtship of a new woman and a new grasp on his band's focus and intentions. Lead-single 'Break-Thru' only compounds this feeling with a full-on pop single about lust and love, with the woman in question being the breakthrough implied in the title for Longstreth. If this seems a little heavy-handed, you wouldn't be wrong, but then every Longstreth has done in his oeuvre has been heavy-handed, it's a style he's managed to craft into his own niche which keeps this supremely weird music so charming and listenable.

The more recent single ‘That's a Lifestyle’ in the most obvious ode to Longstreth's earlier work, all luscious acoustic guitars and battling vocal effects matching a very Longstrethean turn of phrase for the chorus. 'I Feel Energy' similarly does not lie in regards to its title as a brilliant slice of energetic afro-beat inflected pop with an infectious horns section leading the charge. In the album's heaviest effort, 'Zombie Conqueror' Longstreth reminds us he can still really rock out when he wants to using an excellent math-rock indebted riff along with a heavy drum beat to boot. Equally, Empress Of's guest turn here is the standout of all of the many visitors on the album.

Unfortunately, Lamp Lit Prose slumps a little in its second half, as, is often the problem with Longstreth's manic songwriting, the album starts to sag a little under its own weight, which is particularly notable for a sub-40 minute, ten-track album. 'What Is The Time' is a sexy R&B-influenced jam, but it's also the album's cheesiest moment, something again that Longstreth is often partial to a bit of, so one's enjoyment of it will very much depend on that. 'You're The One' is a short folk-ballad where Pecknold and Rostam literally just mimic Longstreth's melodies, making them feel a little underused, while the Dear Nora featuring closer has the feel of a warped 60s movie soundtrack.

Ultimately, Lamp Lit Prose is a far more enjoyable listen than last year's self-titled in terms of content and feel alone. While that album still managed to create some magic, there was a marked difference between Amber Coffman's era and now, which while is still present, has at least begun to put a step forward into what lies ahead for Dirty Projectors rather than the complete self-immolation of its previous attempt. It seems, however, that while Longstreth has indeed found a 'Break-Thru' he still has some way to go if he's to return to his former glories which, perhaps, are now unobtainable.

![105707](http://dis.resized.images.s3.amazonaws.com/540x310/105707.png)

Tue Jul 10 15:34:33 GMT 2018

Tiny Mix Tapes 70

Dirty Projectors
Lamp Lit Prose

[Domino; 2018]

Rating: 3.5/5

Dave Longstreth has always seemed too sincere for the cynical, self-denying idiom of experimental rock. The genre steeps itself in alienating tools like harsh feedback, challenging song structure, and cold, abstract lyrics while often conforming to the guitar-bass-drum paradigm that grounds and distinguishes rock & roll from other styles. It postures itself as subversive and polarizing while at the same time denying its reliance on that tried and true music foundation. So to hear Longstreth, on the song “Two Brown Finches” from 2003’s The Glad Fact, longingly sing, “We drank a two-liter of Orange Crush” over a lo-fi, borderline no-fi guitar strumming pattern that sounds a little like a Charles Manson song is unusual, to say the least.

That lyric of adolescent reminiscence, of restrained heartbreak, is the kind of contemplative, romantic poetry that set Dirty Projectors apart from the lo-fi outsider artists who came into being alongside the band in the early aughts. On “Finches,” Orange Crush was the sugary, calorically empty drink of romance. On Bitte Orca’s “Temecula Sunrise,” the libation of choice changed to Gatorade as Longstreth and his partner sipped heartily in afterglow. This motif concluded last year on the band’s self-titled LP; on “Up in Hudson,” Longstreth sings of former girlfriend and bandmate Amber Coffman hanging out in Echo Park “drinking a fifth” in remembrance of him while he wallows to Kanye’s music on the Taconic Parkway.

Longstreth is a romantic, first and foremost, and as such, he was an outlier in the experimental rock circles that the Projectors were so often lumped into in their early days. But it also appeared that he and his bandmates were always interested in a more conventional pop aesthetic, with the group embodying an increasingly accessible sound with each passing album. With oblique but not totally inscrutable lyrics and labyrinthine guitar lines that slowly laid the pathway toward an orthodox R&B/pop sound, Dirty Projectors made no bones about their pop-oriented ambitions. And on Lamp Lit Prose, the band make good on those ambitions and offer their most conventional collection of songs yet.

Lamp Lit Prose is in many ways a wiping of the band’s slate. The Projector’s eponymous album last year served as an attempt at rebranding, but it was ultimately a breakup album and, as such, was rooted in the group’s past, particularly Longstreth’s personal attachment to Coffman, who departed the group in 2013. But Prose is a new beginning. On “Blue Bird,” Longstreth declares, “I feel just fine on this bench with you” in an access of contentment. The bottle of soda is gone from the scene, but the romantic sentiment of “Finches” remains. “You and me, me and you/ Something sweet, something new,” goes the chorus. The airy R&B backdrop is a bit understated for this bald-faced declaration of jubilance, but in that it isn’t without its charm.

Like any good pop composer, which is what Longstreth always wanted to be, it seems, the singer best conveys his ideas by way of big, hefty instrumentation. Take “I Found it in U,” whose opening line echoes that of “Blue Bird:” “Ask now, I’m in love for the first time ever.” The song’s busy percussion and halting power pop guitar breathe life into the awe-stricken lyrics and forgive the vagueness of the song’s titular hook. Likewise, the excitement of “I Feel Energy” comes from the song’s disconnect between its kinetic futurist R&B dance posturing and use of broad, defeatist lyrical fodder (“We are fundamentally alone in the universe,” “The world is gonna end,” etc.).

The album’s successes in its admixture of striking music and lyrics is hampered, however, by its reliance on the tricks of some of Dirty Projectors’ earlier songs. Opening track “Right Now’s” precisely plucked Spanish guitar harks back to 2009’s “Temecula Sunrise,” as does “That’s a Lifestyle’s” twin acoustic zig zagging. “Zombie Conqueror,” with a meretricious folk intro and electric stomp chorus, bears a resemblance to Orca’s “The Bride” that’s more than coincidental. And while these songs aren’t uninspired in their revisiting of the group’s back catalogue, they don’t capture the manic grace of a band deftly towing the line between experimental and mainstream rock that those Bitte songs did. On these tracks, it sounds as if Longstreth were looking into a mirror and seeing (or wishing to see) the long-haired, clean-shaven librettist who once fronted the Projectors, rather than the bearded, romantic zealot leader he is today.

Dirty Projectors remain such an elusive band because their career trajectory has been so unpredictable. Few groups have the temerity to follow a high-concept reimagining of Black Flag’s Damaged from memory with a string of romantic avant rock song cycles. But Lamp Lit Prose is a quiet retreat into the confines of basic rock and pop trappings — perhaps not an unpredictable stepping stone in the group’s career, but certainly not unwelcome either. As its bookish title suggests, the album can be quaint, yet Prose is not an overthought practice in understatement. It’s a work of populist experimentation, a piece of music that flails outward as much as it meditates inward.

Fri Jul 13 04:00:00 GMT 2018

Tiny Mix Tapes 70

Dirty Projectors
Lamp Lit Prose

[Domino; 2018]

Rating: 3.5/5

Dave Longstreth has always seemed too sincere for the cynical, self-denying idiom of experimental rock. The genre steeps itself in alienating tools like harsh feedback, challenging song structure, and cold, abstract lyrics while often conforming to the guitar-bass-drum paradigm that grounds and distinguishes rock & roll from other styles. It postures itself as subversive and polarizing while at the same time denying its reliance on that tried and true music foundation. So to hear Longstreth, on the song “Two Brown Finches” from 2003’s The Glad Fact, longingly sing, “We drank a two-liter of Orange Crush” over a lo-fi, borderline no-fi guitar strumming pattern that sounds a little like a Charles Manson song is unusual, to say the least.

That lyric of adolescent reminiscence, of restrained heartbreak, is the kind of contemplative, romantic poetry that set Dirty Projectors apart from the lo-fi outsider artists who came into being alongside the band in the early aughts. On “Finches,” Orange Crush was the sugary, calorically empty drink of romance. On Bitte Orca’s “Temecula Sunrise,” the libation of choice changed to Gatorade as Longstreth and his partner sipped heartily in afterglow. This motif concluded last year on the band’s self-titled LP; on “Up in Hudson,” Longstreth sings of former girlfriend and bandmate Amber Coffman hanging out in Echo Park “drinking a fifth” in remembrance of him while he wallows to Kanye’s music on the Taconic Parkway.

Longstreth is a romantic, first and foremost, and as such, he was an outlier in the experimental rock circles that the Projectors were so often lumped into in their early days. But it also appeared that he and his bandmates were always interested in a more conventional pop aesthetic, with the group embodying an increasingly accessible sound with each passing album. With oblique but not totally inscrutable lyrics and labyrinthine guitar lines that slowly laid the pathway toward an orthodox R&B/pop sound, Dirty Projectors made no bones about their pop-oriented ambitions. And on Lamp Lit Prose, the band make good on those ambitions and offer their most conventional collection of songs yet.

Lamp Lit Prose is in many ways a wiping of the band’s slate. The Projector’s eponymous album last year served as an attempt at rebranding, but it was ultimately a breakup album and, as such, was rooted in the group’s past, particularly Longstreth’s personal attachment to Coffman, who departed the group in 2013. But Prose is a new beginning. On “Blue Bird,” Longstreth declares, “I feel just fine on this bench with you” in an access of contentment. The bottle of soda is gone from the scene, but the romantic sentiment of “Finches” remains. “You and me, me and you/ Something sweet, something new,” goes the chorus. The airy R&B backdrop is a bit understated for this bald-faced declaration of jubilance, but in that it isn’t without its charm.

Like any good pop composer, which is what Longstreth always wanted to be, it seems, the singer best conveys his ideas by way of big, hefty instrumentation. Take “I Found it in U,” whose opening line echoes that of “Blue Bird:” “Ask now, I’m in love for the first time ever.” The song’s busy percussion and halting power pop guitar breathe life into the awe-stricken lyrics and forgive the vagueness of the song’s titular hook. Likewise, the excitement of “I Feel Energy” comes from the song’s disconnect between its kinetic futurist R&B dance posturing and use of broad, defeatist lyrical fodder (“We are fundamentally alone in the universe,” “The world is gonna end,” etc.).

The album’s successes in its admixture of striking music and lyrics is hampered, however, by its reliance on the tricks of some of Dirty Projectors’ earlier songs. Opening track “Right Now’s” precisely plucked Spanish guitar harks back to 2009’s “Temecula Sunrise,” as does “That’s a Lifestyle’s” twin acoustic zig zagging. “Zombie Conqueror,” with a meretricious folk intro and electric stomp chorus, bears a resemblance to Orca’s “The Bride” that’s more than coincidental. And while these songs aren’t uninspired in their revisiting of the group’s back catalogue, they don’t capture the manic grace of a band deftly towing the line between experimental and mainstream rock that those Bitte songs did. On these tracks, it sounds as if Longstreth were looking into a mirror and seeing (or wishing to see) the long-haired, clean-shaven librettist who once fronted the Projectors, rather than the bearded, romantic zealot leader he is today.

Dirty Projectors remain such an elusive band because their career trajectory has been so unpredictable. Few groups have the temerity to follow a high-concept reimagining of Black Flag’s Damaged from memory with a string of romantic avant rock song cycles. But Lamp Lit Prose is a quiet retreat into the confines of basic rock and pop trappings — perhaps not an unpredictable stepping stone in the group’s career, but certainly not unwelcome either. As its bookish title suggests, the album can be quaint, yet Prose is not an overthought practice in understatement. It’s a work of populist experimentation, a piece of music that flails outward as much as it meditates inward.

Fri Jul 13 04:00:00 GMT 2018

The Guardian 60

(Domino)

Lamp Lit Prose arrives 17 months after Dirty Projectors’ eighth, eponymous album, which dwelt, via the medium of knotty R&B, on the breakup of former Projector Amber Coffman and lynchpin David Longstreth. You deduce he’s over it.

Brighter, brassier and more free-flowing than most previous outings, Lamp Lit Prose can seem cussedly happy at times: there’s “Something sweet/ Something new” on Blue Bird, a song so blithe you could see Longstreth plying it on kids’ TV. He turns 23rd-century soulman on What Is the Time, as near to a conventional hit as this prodigious guitarist and fusioneer has essayed.

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Sun Jul 15 07:00:11 GMT 2018