Dirty Projectors - Bitte Orca

 In the past year, Dirty Projectors’ leader Dave Longstreth has collaborated with Bjork and David Byrne, both of them kindred spirits in their need for continuous musical exploration. Like the former, he’s not afraid to push his voice to places many would consider unlistenable; like the latter, he believes that art and rock make perfectly natural bedfellows. This has made for an eccentric, eclectic and fascinating stylistic mix that has so far brought his band (now a settled line-up incorporating backing vocalists Amber Coffman and Angel Deradoorian, Haley Delke, bassist Nat Baldwin and drummer Brian McComber) only niche appeal.

Bitte Orca, though, will surely change that. At 41 minutes, the album is immediately more digestible than their previous work; the lyrics are sunnier and more playful, and the songs have an unmistakable pop edge. The startling changes in tempo and unexpected vocal yelps are still there, but they’re now wedded to tunes you can hum along to and grooves you can sink your teeth into. The band’s tendency towards more direct rhythms is central to Orca's increased accessibility –  compared to its predecessors, the album noticeably favours rock/hip-hop 4/4 rhythms that anchor Longstreth’s ambitious compositions to earth. The move towards a more direct, poppy sound owes as much to modern R n’B as to anything else; lead single 'Stillness is the Move', on which Coffman temporarily becomes the frontwoman, flies daringly close to Mariah territory, as her acrobatic vocals leap about over precise, robotic rhythms. Meanwhile, the lyrics of 'Temacula Sunrise' (“what hits the spot babe/like Gatorade/ you n’ me babe/ hittin the spot whoa”), along with recent work from Bonnie Prince Billy and Beck, offer further evidence of the increasing influence of R Kelly on modern US indie music.

The band outdoes itself in every respect, and Coffman’s vocals are a highlight, but everything here is stamped with Longstreth’s singular vision: the songwriting, arrangements and production (also his own work) are consistently inventive and surprising. The awesome 'Useful Chamber' is the album’s standout – we defy you to hear this for the first time and successfully predict what’s going to happen next. The song is filled with more "what-the-fuck?" moments than can reasonably be expected: snyths and vocals change pitch suddenly, an intimate spoken interlude erupts into raucous noise, the slowed-down minimal disco-funk bump underpinning the track decelerates even further, segueing into a chaotic finale. Longstreth's distinctive scratchy, African-influenced guitar is ever-present, and his solo on the beautiful, tender "No Intention" is another delight on an album that, while sacrificing none of its restless intelligence, isn't afraid to show its heart. Bitte Orca is undoubtedly the band’s most fully-rounded and enjoyable collection to date, and another Brooklyn-born classic for the year that’s in it. Let’s hope they keep coming.