Dirty Projectors’ appearance was notable for its unique venue: instead of a sweaty rock club like Spaceland, Longstreth and co. shared the stage with the Los Angeles Philharmonic and the groundbreaking classical music group Alarm Will Sound (best known for playing and transforming unlikely sources like the music of Aphex Twin with classical instruments). The concert actually began with the L.A. Phil playing what one would assume were classical selection chosen in conjunction with Longstreth; they certainly shared aesthetic common ground. Two of the pieces in this program were for solo piano by the Eastern European composer Ligeti, whose irreverent, avant-garde compositions appeal to indie rockers with advanced compositional abilities like Radiohead and Dirty Projectors. The other selections were just as apt: a prelude from Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde showed the melodic power and beauty inherent in such an individual composer. Conversely, the reading of Ravel’s Mother Goose Suite fit Dirty Projectors’ music to a “t,” but in a different way. Built of many interlocking suites and melodies, this Mother Goose, like Longstreth’s ambitious efforts, proved alternately playful, eerie, looming, eccentric, yet accessible. Ravel was probably the most mainstream establishment of these composers showcased, but this selection truly highlighted his unsung idiosyncratic genius.

After a brief intermission, the Dirty Projectors came on: Longstreth, along with vocalists/instrumentalists Amber Coffman, Angel Deradoorian, and Haley Dekle, entered the stage in multicolored hooded capes, ironically appearing as if they were ascetics hailing from the monastery of obscure indie rock. Collaborating with Alarm Will Sound’s orchestral lineup, the Dirty Projectors first attempted The Getty Address, a sprawling opera with a twisty, surreal Americana storyline; suffice to say, the main character’s name is Don Henley, and the official program reproduced a letter sent to the Eagles’ frontman when Getty was released as an album in 2005. If the absurdist narrative was hard to follow, the music proved wildly compelling. Longstreth managed a compellingly awkward, bouncy white-boy head nod as his deeply complex compositions were given a full orchestral treatment: textures of swing, free jazz, Wu-Tang-esque staccato hip-hop beats, and even beer bottles used as wind instruments brought the challenging time signatures, intergalactic harmonies, and almost early-Disney style melodies together. However “difficult” the piece might be, its sheer ambition proved intoxicating, as the passages displayed a quixotic, trance-like gorgeousness far outside pop music convention; in other words, the music was catchy and accessible, but via the most unexpected angles. Once Getty was completed, the Projectors performed an unplugged set featuring great tracks from the band’s incredible 2009 album Bitte Orca like “Temecula Sunrise,” along with a take on Bob Dylan’s “I Dreamed I Saw St. Augustine.” The folkier, stripped-down instrumentation showed Longstreth’s voice to be a far more virtuosic and elastic instrument than on record, closer to the melodic gifts of Thom Yorke than the usual indie croak. Even more astonishing was Longstreth’s guitar playing, which came in deep focus in the stark arrangements: he’s often compared to African guitar greats like King Sunny Adé due to his fluid, uplifting melodic lines, but there was also something of the athletic beauty of Spanish guitar here, too. By the end, it seemed nearly every facet of this odd, kaleidoscopic genius was displayed, if not amplified. The standing “o” didn’t seem undeserved in the slightest.

Just a bit southeast, in L.A.’s indie-haven Echo Park neighborhood, Four Tet played his first Southern California show since releasing his acclaimed new album, There Is Love In You at the Echoplex. There Is Love In You is shaping up to be one of 2010’s most heralded releases: on it, Four Tet/Hebden merges the minimalist experimentalism and repetition of avant-garde classical, the fractured samples and endless delay channels of Intelligent Dance Music, the booming low end of dubstep, and straight up, four-on-the-floor dance music. There Is… is surprisingly accessible considering those influences, and Hebden’s recent previous releases, which were often terrible, somewhat incoherent collaborations with the jazz drummer Steve Reid. There is… finds Four Tet working in a surprisingly accessible mode without compromising his avant-garde approach at all: supposedly he road-tested the album’s songs in DJ sets throughout the past year, making sure they were dancefloor friendly. At the same time, innovation sprawls over tracks like “Angel Echoes” and the irresistible single “Love Cry”: these are haunting tracks pulsing with emotion, the hypnotic lure of the supple house beats and syncopated percussion drawing the listener/dancer to investigate their oddball, homemade charm even further.

On stage at the Echoplex, following a set by U.K. glitch wunderkind Nathan Fake, Four Tet played what on some level could be considered a traditional set. Largely focusing on There Is…, the performance definitely concentrated on Hebdan’s recent clubbier conversion, to the delight of the crowd, who grooved uproariously to every thundering kick drum. What separated Four Tet’s set from a conventional clubbing musical experience, however, was the sheer compositional intelligence and absolutely sublime, yet unpredictable, melodic sensibility Hebden brought to the proceedings. Unlike the rave multimedia backdrop of Nathan Fake, Four Tet’s visual presentation was fairly straightforward and light based—the evening’s psychedelic quotient stemmed from the music itself. His Afro turned purple from a black light, Hebden humbly tweaked a number of electronic devices on a simple table that could’ve come from Ikea’s kitchen department, layering sheets of bell-like echoes on top of each other, the relentless yet funky percussion holding the shifting shards of samples and sounds together like viscous cement. In an entertainingly post-modern move, Hebdan even started using his iPhone to add shimmering ambient twinkles that sounded suspiciously like the Brian Eno drone-tone app, “Bloom.” Sub bass booms, disembodied voices, plucked Asiatic melodies, and synthetic Moroder basslines rose in and out of focus from the dense soundscapes. It was a subtle yet thrilling, with Four Tet’s recent embrace of accessibility and danceable rhythm only making him seem more vanguard and adventurous—proof that, no matter what genre he attempts, Hebdan’s greatest skill is injecting the element of surprise,

Oddly, these new songs are the equal of anything on Bitte Orca – testament that when it comes to talent, its overflowing in the Dirty Projectors’ camp. “Ascending Melody” is a track that resembles Bitte Orca’s hit “Stillness Is The Move” a bit, built on playful guitar funk and, above all, the soaring, soulful females harmonies of Amber Coffman, Haley Dekle, and Angel Deradoorian (not for nothing did Solange Knowles do a stellar R&B cover of “Stillness,” and she could probably do damage to this, too). “Ascending Memory,” with its spoken ad-libs and loping rhythm,  does what Dirty Projectors do best: create a ramshackle, immediate performance of something that is clearly complex, intricate and formed in the expansive brain of DP leader Dave Longhstreth. Longstreth’s vocals take the lead on the b-side “Emblem of the World,” which may be an even greater achievement. A chiming, spectral guitar line, disembodied keyboards and a distorted snare crack that sounds like a gun shot that could’ve come off a Diplo mixtape provide the fulcrum for Longstreth’s sensitive, building vocals; all the elements come together to create a stunning jewel-box of a song. Its sprawling arrangement is itself an adventure, a journey—then again, with songs as good as this, we’ll follow Dirty Projectors anywhere.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Actually, that point is a little debatable: a look back at the music considered incredible in 1999 suggests this might be an even better year than almost anything in nostalgia’s past. Sure, Dr. Dre dropped 2001 that year, and Eminem made his debut; Moby’s Play made electronic music a viable commercial proposition and scored a zillion TV commercials; Flaming Lips put out the great Soft Bulletin; Basement Jaxx’ Remedy still holds up, and personally I find Midnight Vultures to be my fave Beck album. We also, alas, had Kid Rock’s superstar ascent and Santana’s evolution from guitar maestro to fromage collaborator with whomever was the hitmaker of the day; much of the rest of the class of  ’99 seemed important in the moment – Fiona Apple, anyone? – but hasn’t aged particularly well. 2009, though, appears to be the year that musicians are really going for it – if you didn’t release a stone-cold classic this year, it was hard to stand out. And while CD sales have proven to be as negligible as they’ve ever been, the passion for music seems to be greater than ever.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Two moments really crystallized the greatness of 2009 as a music year: Speech Debelle’s controversial win of the Mercury Prize, and the Beatles’ dazzling reissues. Now, Speech Debelle was never my choice for the Mercury Prize (that would be Bat For Lashes). But the fact that an almost completely unknown underground female hip-hop artist signed to an indie label, who sold not so much and made nary a blip in the media, showed that sales and popularity were no longer the yardstick for what makes a musical artist a success. It was a sign that an underground artist, one without popular support, can still triumph – and may, in fact, be preferable to whatever the corporations want to shove down our throats. The Beatles’ reissues proved an interesting flipside to this phenomenon. As it becomes clear that this is the final moment to wring any cash out of CD sales, major labels are rushing out reissues of their biggest artists to catch those who might care about such a thing before time runs out (EMI’s desperate Radiohead repackages, done against the band’s will, are just one example, among many). But the Beatles reissues were something different. One could slap the Beatles’ name on anything, and it would move considerable units. Instead, these albums were re-approached with the ultimate care and consideration: the audio was properly remastered and re-mixed, sparing no expense. The result was that even the biggest Beatles fans heard this music that changed pop music forever in a completely new way: this was the most familiar music ever to a music fan, but with the reissues it was finally heard anew, as it was truly meant to be. This was not a crass commercial proposition, but a true artistic one, and its rapturous reception demonstrated without doubt the voracious passion that listeners have for music today.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Make that “good music.” The new albums released in 2009 were dizzying in their sheer quality: I don’t like to toss around the word “classic” lightly, but this year’s releases from Fever Ray, Yacht, Fuck Buttons, the Horrors, Animal Collective, Bat For Lashes, Dam-Funk, Atlas Sound, Dirty Projectors, SunnO))), Nosaj Thing, Passion Pit, Phoenix, The Big Pink, The Delta Mirror, Circlesquare, the XX, and Doves all earned that distinction in my opinion. And that’s a partial list – just what I could come up with on deadline! Never in my recent memory have so many epic, genre-expanding, forward, adventurous albums been released. I have a pet theory about all this: now that album sales and radio airplay are no longer crucial markers for success, artists are just going for it. Timelessness now seems like a lot better option than pop success. Bat For Lashes received tons of hype, sure; however, her vivid and haunting album Two Suns was packed with artful, surprising songwriting and sounds, and she made elaborate art videos that have more to do with Cindy Sherman and Matthew Barney than the cinematic oeuvre of, say, Miley Cyrus. Jack Penate tossed aside his “male Lily Allen” shtick for an adventurous, confessional, exciting 180 degree turn. Diplo brought humor and fat bass to everything he touched. The Horrors is one of 2008’s emblematic success stories. The band’s first album was all marketing and image – black winklepickers and Goth imagery ideal for Hot Topic t-shirts.  The second Horrors album, Primary Colours, fit no marketing plan, with its long Krautrock shoegaze meditations and raw, challenging sounds. It’s only marketing plan was that it was a great album. The rise of a band like the XX is another example. This was music made for a relatively small label, by a group of unknowns, yet it’s connecting on a mass, global level seemingly because it’s simply great music; that the XX and bands like Grizzly Bear actually cracked the album charts stunned some, but it just seems like part of a trend – good music is prevailing where corporate marketing and forced ubiquity once did. Just waiting to see what new side project, stunt or gambit Jack White will foist on us unexpectedly has become the new cliffhanger; that it’s usually somewhere between really good and great is a nice byproduct of his prolific nature. It’s just thrilling to see someone screw with the boundaries with such force – with role models like White, such individualistic behavior is finally becoming the norm.

Click here to view the embedded video.

The “new music industry” indeed got many kicks in the pants this year, largely coming from the artists themselves. Downloads proved more viable than ever: The Big Pink gave away “Dominos” – the song that was to be their uber-hit single a la “Wonderwall” – for free.  Bands like Radiohead and Bloc Party demonstrated that the single is still a viable medium, dropping them whenever they deemed it a creatively viable idea, rather than as a cog in a corporate album-release machine. Just for the hell of it, let’s give props to “I Will Come Back” by Holy Ghost!, one of my candidates for single of the year; Dizzee Rascal’s, well, dizzying blur of poptastic hits also startled in the best way. The remix also got a new lease on life: Tara Busch made one of the best with her kaleidoscopic revision of Bat For Lashes’ “Daniel,” Alex Metric’s re-rub of Phoenix’s “Lisztomania” damn near eclipsed the original, as did Skream’s epochal remix of La Roux’s “In For The Kill,” which added emotion and excitement that the initial version only hinted at (if anything, Skream’s version was the one people remember). Per the Beatles’ example, many reissues seemed to be about re-asserting the greatness of past releases rather than just profiting from them. REM’s early albums, re-mastered with such grace and precision, made us hear Murmur and Reckoning in new ways, reminding why this band proved so innovative and startling. The Jesus Lizard’s reissues reminded that this is a band that belongs with the greats, and DFA’s bringing back the great Amerindie band Pylon with sonically impeccable reissues connected the dots for much of today’s neo-punk funk with rich aplomb.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Pop seemed flaccid in 2009 for the most part – much of it just desperate stabs by a failing major-label system to justify its existence – but there were signs of hope

VV Brown hopefully will become the Beyonce with flair, a bold, British female version of OutKast’s color-blinding, genre-defying hitmaking infused with Karen O’s outrageousness. And the soundtrack for the new Twilight film could’ve been another commercial emo redux, but instead they led with Thom Yorke, Bon Iver, and St. Vincent, hardly teen chart staples. Miike Snow also provided true pop thrills in its almost shamelessly clinical hooks, but did so with a core of what seemed like genuine strangeness. Hip hop was largely dead in the water outside of brilliant iconoclasts like Doom and Ghostface, although “Day And Night” by Kid Cudi

did provide a great idiosyncratic pop moment, however; hopefully someone will come around in 2010 and turn rap on its head. Dance music, on the other hand, has never seemed more multi-dimensional than now. From the dubstep of Hyperdub to the various strands of techno to the neo-disco massive and beyond, this is a moment where tempo and genre stratifications prove ultimately meaningless in the face of whether a groove connects with a crowd (or a blog); this multifaceted, celebratory vibe recalls the heyday of acid house, where Derrick May and My Bloody Valentine would mingle in the same DJ set at the Hacienda, and the crowd just danced and danced regardless of their tribe.

If anything, 2009 reminds me of the moment in the ‘80s when absolute masterpieces by the likes of the Cure, Husker Du, Big Black, and Echo and the Bunnymen were released, and no one noticed beyond a devoted cult. Of course, those albums would go on to the generational markers, classics in the canon and in the record collections of fellow nerds. People talk about looking forward to the time when the music industry will start making money again, but if the richness of great music that we enjoy today is at the expense of bloated corporate fat cats who never gave a damn about quality in the first place, then hopefully that day will never come.

I always thought that the Dirty Projectors’ “Stillness Is The Move” sounded like Destiny’s Child on some indie-rock druggage, and well, my dreams have been answered by the gods. Actual Beyoncé relative and Boards of Canada fan Solange Knowles has gone and taken “Stillness Is The Move” to its future R&B essence, brought to us by the all-knowing indie oracle pitchfork.com. And it is astonishing to hear those Knowles pipes get bizzy on David Longstreth’s syncopated, strange melodies; as well, she builds it on the infectious guitar sample that Dr. Dre bit for “XXplosive” – as if it wasn’t funky enough. This is like the perfect summer jam to get us through the winter. Now if we can only get Solange on the dubstep bandwagon…

Bitte Orca’s shambolic surfaces belie the massive  of DP’s mastermind, Brooklyn-based, Yale educated Dave Longstreth. Longstreth first came to blog/critical attention via 2007’s Rise Above which free associated its way through an iconoclastic free form homage to Black Flag’s punk classic LP Damaged. Rise Above was a cunning stunt indeed, yet it didn’t prepare for the fluid genius of Bitte Orca. Downright odd downright approachable, its highlights – the post-punk rewiring of ‘60s folk rock on “The Bride,” the Timbaland groove by way of Williamsburg indie psychedelia of “Stillness Is The Move” – simply astound. Dirty Projectors ultimately transcend their influences, however, because of these bold inside moves – sonic hubris hasn’t sounded this intimately, expertly undone in some time.