After completing his first brilliant color-coded trilogy, Stefan Betke took a heartbreaking left turn, leaving behind the minimalist sound he had helped usher in. Yet somehow, a quasi-mysterious artist known to the music world only by the name Burial managed to capture that spirit without resorting to mimicry. Better still, he's managed to develop a style all his own.
Though its release on Kode9's sensational Hyperdub imprint immediately places Burial under the dubstep umbrella, this music defies the laws of oversimplified categorization. While it does include some material from the previously issued South London Boroughs record, this self-titled album is hardly some mere collection of twelve-inch singles, with the majority of the songs previously unreleased and recorded between 2001 and 2006. That being said, these laid back tracks aren't custom built for the dancefloor, an anomalous characteristic for the dubstep genre, yet like many of his peers Burial belongs to the urban, the city, the streets.
After a brief untitled introduction courtesy of Benicio del Toro, "Distant Lights" crackles into existence with the unmistakable sounds of weaponry being prepared, followed by a subtly stuttering beat and the soulful wail "Now that I need you..." in both male and female voices. This implicit desperation worms its way throughout the album, burrowing its way into the rumbling bass. Kode9's favorite collaborator Spaceape makes a noteworthy guest appearance on the track that bears his name, weaving conscious freeform poetry with a deep accented affectation over dramatic strings and a slightly hard-to-follow rhythm. Thankfully, Burial has chosen not to showcase a bunch of dodgy grime MCs bellowing and blubbering gun violence slogans or other pandering claptrap over his productions, letting the music act as its own statement.
Surprises appear around the breaks, such as the abruptly introduced yet fleeting melody that lights up the brilliant "Broken Home" or the mutant eastern vibes on "U Hurt Me." Burial's choice of ambient interludes hold their own among their rhythmic companions, such as the stunning "Forgive," whose looped backwards vocalization reveals, perhaps, a house of God in this near-apocalyptic view of London. Soaking all fifty-one minutes in, Burial's triumphant debut delights, engages, and even astonishes throughout its duration.
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