Brooklyn’s Finest: Dirty Projectors To Tour, Book Your European Vacation Now!

Peep the style and the way the cops sweat Dirty Projectors. The number one question is can the Feds get them. They've got vendettas in dice games against ass-betters and those who pump wheels and drive Jettas. Take that with ya. They've got mob ties like Sinatra. Peruvians tried to do them in (they ain't paid them yet). Tryin to push 700s (they ain't made them yet). Rolex and bracelets is frostbit. Rings, too, people round the way call them Igloo Stick. Who? Motherfuckers.

I don't know how much more blunt things could get, but if you didn't catch that, Dirty Projectors, the Brooklyn-based brainchild of eclectic indie composer/deranged racket-causing mastermind David Longstreth, are bringing their tortured pop music to the masses. After recently sharing the stage with such acclaimed acts as Grizzly Bear, Hella (a quintet now, WTF!?), Battles, and Deerhunter, Projectors will participate in the David Bowie-curated High Line Fesitval in New York City (with Deerhoof) to be followed by a summer jaunt through Europe, including a couple festival dates. In late April, the band will again set their roots in the city they call home with a performance at New York City's Whitney Museum.

Currently supported by the cooing harmonies of Amber Coffman and Angel Deradoorian, The Dirty-Dirties are at their finest and represent a shining beacon of everything that's right in independent music. With an ever-evolving sound blending dizzying guitar lines, commanding percussion, and vocals that alternate between gooey-sweet melody, haunting lows, and shrieking highs, the band is sure to impress. You can hear their recent session at the Daytrotter Studio here for a taste of the dazzling eccentricities this band has to offer. Longstreth's yelps and hollers are almost as frightening as his pleasantly bizarre lyrics, casting him as one of the most welcomed spokesmen of the fucked up and pissed off since Jaime Stewart of Xiu Xiu first started scaring the shit out of us with songs about crushing depression and a deformed penis.

If you're not in NYC or Europe, try this:

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