Burial - Untrue (2007)
I love the mystery of music. One of the great appeals of electronic music is its ambiguity; it's awesome not being able to tell whether some demented dude is making crazy beats in the man-cave confines of his mom's basement equipped with its own jerk-off station or if the sounds you're hearing are emanating from some alien being light years away. For a good three years or so, Burial was completely anonymous, and people wondered just who the hell this genius of a producer was. Unfortunately, he's from privacy-free London, and tabloids were desperate to discover the name of this unbelievably talented mystery beat-maker, and some were throwing out names like Aphex Twin and, of all people, Fatboy Slim. Now, it's pretty ridiculous to think that Fatboy Slim would make this, so the dude was pretty much forced to come out and reveal himself, thus his goal of making anonymous music just to make anonymous music was foiled. By wanting to deflect all this attention away from himself, he essentially has the anti-English mentality. But his music is very much English. Dubstep and 2-step garage both originated in limey territory, and his style fits somewhere in between, with his use of jittery drum patterns, R&B vocals, and raw basslines. His “revealing” of his name (William Bevan) hasn't changed him at all though; there's only one known picture of him and he still never DJ's or plays live. But even if he stopped making music, what he's done so far already has been exemplary, with his crown jewel being Untrue, an unspeakably beautiful, landmark collection of tunes perfectly reflecting the social and urban isolation of London.
This is dubstep at its finest, its not in-your-face burst-your-eardrums brostep, but its intricate deftness mesmerizes you, and you listen, and want to pay attention. But it's no joy ride. Untrue is the sound of something unsettling, the loneliness of sitting on a train in the middle of a rain-soaked London night, the feeling of knowing the city's littered with people, but being as alone as ever. But as much as the despair and anguish pierce you with every mournful wail, every distorted, gender-ambiguous moan, the sense of hope is right around the corner, the light at the end of the tunnel. If anything, it sounds undoubtedly real. It's as earthy and human as electronic gets; pouring rain provides a backdrop of more than a few tracks, things as mundane as keys jangle here and there, and ominous footsteps can be heard walking up and down the tunes like some lost soul on Elephant & Castle before dawn. This gives the album such a nice balance, as it lies somewhere between heavy distortion and ambient humanism, reminding you that, yes, as ambiguous and anonymous as it is, it's also deeply personal. I can't even begin to tell you how sick it would be seeing Burial DJ live. But I don't blame him for avoiding the limelight. These are tunes that are made for getting lost in the confines of your headphones. If William Bevan was all over gossip sites and on TV all the time and playing in massive basketball arenas, there would certainly be a bit - check that, a lot - of magic lost.
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