Whenever I listen to
Untrue. Burial's 2nd full length voyage into dub step nirvana, I end up picturing a narrow cave with towering walls stretching to the blackest sky you can imagine. Above me there are storm clouds sending down lightning bolts that fluctuate between black and white and the air is completely still. This cave is always placed near a giant, vibrant city on an otherwise empty world; a city with subway rails that are hundreds of feet in the air, mostly empty except for those few passangers in the back, with eyes closed and dreaming of home. The city is covered with graffiti on stale buildings that ascend up to nothing. There are little patches of grass scattered throughout the streets, one flower in each patch and it's the
purest red you have ever imagined. It's a symbol of hope in that though the end is near, we will be ok.
What makes this experience even more incredible is that
Untrue sounds like it was actually made on the streets of that dark city. Gritty, stumbling beats give the feeling of being on a bumpy subway and the vital, astral ambience creates a shroud of ethereality that covers the whole album, like a black cloud over your lonely walk home.
Untrue is that rare and optimal moment where an album has the ability to completely transport you away to another realm. When I found out Burial has stated that not many people have heard that he even makes music, I pictured him as just another abandoned citizen of the city in my mind, in the back of a dim-lit subway, headphones on and drifting away.
