The music of Dirty Projectors has always been akin to some tweaked version of the Sistine Chapel. Dave Longstreth and his cronies have a reputation for intricately detailed grand statements. Tying tangled knots out of snaking guitars and vocals, they conjure a kind of beauty you can appreciate more than you can feel.
Not anymore. “Swing Lo Magellan,” the album they released this week, is indisputably human, built from relatively simple structures and discernable ideas about subjects like love and hangovers. They even mixed in studio chatter of bandmates Amber Coffman and Haley Dekle mocking Longstreth’s lyrics.
“Magellan” is still fraught with the band’s trademark quirks — Yale-bred academic shredder flourishes and awkward bleating and whatnot. They haven’t abandoned their identity, just refined and nearly perfected it.
Fellow Brooklynites The Psychic Paramount, also on the way to Chicago’s Pitchfork Music Festival, will open Thursday’s show at the Wex.
credit Shawn Brackbill photo