Burial

𝘽𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙡’𝙨 𝙨𝙤𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙇𝙋, 𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙪𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝟮𝟬𝟬𝟳 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙖 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙞𝙫𝙤𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙗𝙪𝙩, 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙥𝙞𝙚𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙪𝙧𝙗𝙖𝙣 𝙐𝙆 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙘 𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙚, 𝙥𝙤𝙥-𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙣 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙧𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚.

Where its predecessor was starkly paranoid, mostly instrumental, Untrue was gilded with gorgeous, cut-up R&B and UKG vox, and interspersed with segments of nocturnal reverie that played out like the OST for a yung UK romance that replaced posh, gurning actors with real life road characters and focussed on the spaces between - between the club and home; between night and day; masculine and feminine; waking life and dream life; Maccy D’s and alley doorways; being high AF and coming down.

It was and still is Burial’s love note to UKG and R&G, and by turns gave context and validated those genres for a lot of listeners who arguably wouldn’t have touched that sound, or at least dismissed it as pop pap or with some snide, racist undertone before Burial’s revivalist instincts hybridised it with trip hop and snarling D&B memes.

More positively, however, depending on which way you look at it, this album also opened the endorphin floodgates for a whole raft of f****e garage producers to get in touch with their feminine side, especially in contrast to prevailing, laddish dubstep rave trends, and, since that sound has faded away, it’s not hard to hear this album’s influence in the vocal processing of Mssingno, in the uneven, off-kilter swing and parry of Zomby, the patch-worked constructions of Jamie xx or Evian Christ, or in Deadboy and Murlo’s more boundary-pushing creations.

As with any album that gets a lot of attention beyond its putative scene, Untrue was an unintended red rag to the cynics and rockists - and even garage purists - but for almost anyone who recognises and appreciates that more modest, aching sort of electronic, UK street rave soul, it remains a really transcendent album that still grips like few others.