Burial

Untrue

Hyperdub

In a remark to the British broadsheet daily The Guardian, the anonymous figure who presents himself as the dubstep producer Burial declared (in an apparently nearly inaudible voice, for an article devoid of a photographic image) that only five other people even knew he made music. Given that one of these is his mentor and label boss Kode9 (who persuaded a skeptical and reticent amateur artist that the tracks he had casually assembled on a low-wattage hard drive from 2000 onward were worthy of commercial release), we can surmise that members even of Burial’s own family have not the faintest suspicion that their own brother or nephew is rapidly becoming the one of the most celebrated producers of the present moment, celebrated by contributors to obscure dubstep Internet forums, The Observer and online behemoth Pitchfork in equal measure. Yet if this strategy is merely part of a wider genre concern with preventing an obsession with artist identity from converting dubstep producers into mere poster boys (only Skream appears to be even remotely willing to be a photogenic figure, and even then in a casual manner entirely at odds with the general thrust of celebrity culture), in Burial’s case it is fast spawning its own distinct mythology: an antidote to preening indie kids more concerned with hair products than creativity; a strategy to lure a potential audience by refusing to sate the demand for imagery. Over at the small-ish Dubstep Forum, a preview thread for its release ran into 18 pages, with many contributors openly declaring a fevered excitement not felt since the heady days of Boards of Canada (revealing the constituency that dubstep has been growing of late). A particular image, with its own narrative points of reference, is fast becoming cultivated of the underground anti-hero that generates its own logic, whether Burial likes it or not. Consequently, Untrue arrives as one of the most eagerly anticipated records of 2007, with the usual naysayers salivating at the prospect of the record falling flat on its face.

Falling flat is the last thing Untrue does. A dubstep album at a nominal level only (from a purely rhythmic viewpoint, Untrue is much closer to two-step, the scene that preceded dubstep, but which remains distinct from it and is associated largely with club contexts alone), Burial supersedes his already-remarkable self-titled debut in every respect, producing a staggering, brilliant record that is resolutely at odds with every current musical trend, yet at once deploys an immediately familiar and direct emotional language. Not so much “lighter” than its predecessor as simply more complex, Untrue avoids its one flaw— tracks built around geometric repetitions of the same elements, which bequeathed a slightly synthetic, “cinematic” flavor. Here, Burial has added much greater detail to his melancholic, nocturnal world of night buses, sprawling council estates, and fast food restaurants (one of the more touching ambient interludes is entitled “In McDonalds”), injecting a sense of proud defiance and passion against the life-sapping pressures of low-income living in a global city. Most remarkably, the disembodied vocals that haunt tracks, which are drawn directly from the helium-pitched daze of hardcore rave, are converted into elements of astonishing pathos in the context of Burial’s melancholic sensibilities. The refrain of “holding you, tell me I belong” that anchors the murky swell of “Archangel” (one of very many truly awe-inspiring moments) sets a tone of unrequited passions and longing that speaks of the dislocation that can all too often haunt life in London. In spite of the craze for “New Rave” in the UK capital of late, no one, anywhere, has recovered the ghosts of actual rave music and subjected them to such transfiguration. The depth of feeling that flows through Untrue is astonishing and yet entirely unique.

Untrue is a colossal achievement, an album of hidden depths, raw feeling and relentless propulsion. Comparisons to Martin Hannett’s work with Joy Division abound (and also that of Bark Psychosis, the album’s closest true spiritual heir), but Burial is also entangled with a (now half-forgotten) lineage of British urban music that runs from the Caribbean immigration of the early 1950s through such complex and elliptical music as characterized by On-U Sound and Massive Attack, and connected with the illicit rave scenes occurring contemporaneously, where one of the last true cultural rebellions in Europe died in the midst of Parliamentary acts and commercial temptation. Urbane, poetic, but also in touch with the real life of London’s streets, Untrue is a world away from the imaginary worlds painted by the city’s dominant indie factions, presenting an altogether more convincing and affecting counter-image, a magnificent account of life held together and lived in defiance against the oppressive heat of everything surrounding it.

John Gibson