Burial je ove godine objavio dva EP-ja.
Kad on nešto snimi to je kao kad Pynchon objavi novi roman.
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Burial follows up his masterful Kindred EP with the nearly 25-minute 12″, Truant b/w Rough Sleeper, making his 2012 output clock in an early an hour.
“Rough Sleeper” is much more soulful than the title track, and would actually feel right at home in Kindred‘s gooey center. On the other hand, “Truant” essentially pick up where Kindred‘s “Ashtray Wasp” left things off, piling on a nervous energy that manifests itself in an indecisive, vignette-like groove. It’s a brilliant patchwork-peek into one of the most interesting minds in music today. - prettymuchamazing.com/
Fresh outta Maccie D's, William Emmanuel Bevan aka Burial drops his 2nd solo EP of 2012 'pon Hyperdub. Much like his 'Kindred EP', he focuses on long-form composition with two tracks hovering around the 12 minute and 14 minute mark respectively, taking license to really stretch out into fragmented, impressionistic and cinematic scapes strafed with elements of vintage hardcore, heartbreaking vocal samples and murkiest atmospheres. Of course, you already know that, but it's great to hear him really running about as far from the club as he's ever done, leaving us with something to dance to in our bedrooms over the festive season, 'cause f*ck knows you'll want to escape inevitable repeats on the telling box.- boomkat
Kindred
One year since 'Street Halo', Burial chops out three tracks of arguably his most addictive material since 'Untrue'. Now, it's always interesting to see the discourse fall-out after each new Burial release, with the naysayers levelling the same old accusations of evolutionary torpor, and the lovers; well, they're just gushing love. We can clearly see both sides of the argument, but ultimately, we still can't deny the feeling when it hits, and that overrides everything. And within bars of 'Kindred' we're crippled by it: those angelic pads, the drizzly atmosphere, that inmitable, acute, darkside rush. You just don't get it anywhere else, and as long as it's this good, we'll be cranking in the rain 'til it wears off. Blah blah blah. Long live Burial! - boomkat
When last year's Street Halo came out, it was met with the same breathless hysteria that has greeted every new morsel of Burial music since Untrue. But you couldn't help but feel that the ghostly two-step master had become a little predictable. Even as the producer experimented with house music on the title track (which he had done previously on "Raver" and "Versus"), it felt as if he were re-using the same sounds and effects. A year later, and with still no sign of a third album, we're treated to another three-track EP. But unlike Street Halo, Kindred, currently available digitally only, breaks nearly every Burial precedent there is, from the 12-minute-long tracks to an new sound design that feels consummately richer than the genius of his earlier work.
Of the three,
"Kindred" (12-minute symphony No. 1) will be the most recognizable to
Burial die-hards, featuring that same clanking metal-on-metal garage
skip-and-swing. But this time something just feels heavier, harder, more
devastating. Burial's been credited since the beginning as a prophet
tying together UK genres old and new, but there's never been a better
argument than "Kindred", which hints at the agility of jungle with the
lead-footed heft of dubstep as seen through elliptical garage beats.
They tumble and timestretch like vintage Metalheadz underneath
smouldering Reese basslines, and the vocals lack Burial's usual phrases,
instead choking out syllables smothered by the aural ash and soot that
seems to soak the recording in a humongous, unearthly rumbling. As a
whole "Kindred" sounds bigger than anything he's done before, an
infinitely detailed behemoth that lumbers and shakes the ground beneath
it with every little stroke of movement.
"Kindred" is basically a suite in itself, a new kind of tumult that only heightens Burial's usual wrenching sorrow, an ambitious new venture repeated in Kindred's other two tracks. "Loner" outdoes the sad-sack ecstacy of Untrue's similarly housey "Raver"-- for one thing, it's a lot faster-- but it's coated in MDMA residue, its chugging kick-and-snare pattern and almost prog-house pumping chord progression drowning in gloss. That chemical energy lends its fatalism an almost heroic sense of momentum, moving and moving and never quite getting anywhere but into the same empty, desperate silence that swallowed "Kindred". It's a well-timed track, navigating the same obsession with house and techno that's gripping the entire bass music world and turning it into something distinctly Burial, perverting house's speedy metronome (and prog house's politics of bliss) into profound, otherworldly sadness.
But as impressive as those two tracks are, there's no real way to prepare for "Ashtray Wasp", also built on a broken house lope. This time it's overloaded with funereal synths and arpeggios that twirl frantically in anguish as if they had nowhere else to go, saturating the cloudy soundscape with particulate matter so intricate it's a wonder all this sound data can be contained in a single mp3, nevermind a groove in wax. The fluttering effects are only further confused by the bleary smudge of it all, cinematic and grand but stuck in Burial's world of canned frequencies: The locust-swarm effect of the filters is impossibly stirring, far more visceral than perfect clarity ever could have been. It falls apart about seven minutes in before reconstructing into an even more decayed beat, violently wedged apart by static-- recalling the most challenging work of the Caretaker and his vinyl experiments. "Ashtray Wasp" suggests a structural intricacy and awe-inspiring execution from one of electronic music's mopiest producers, and the result might be his definitive track.
It's hard to talk about Kindred-- whether in the context of electronic dance music or just in the Burial discography itself-- without resorting to superlative terms, because it really is just that impressive. It's easy enough to take a talent such as Burial for granted, but Kindred is like a convenient slap in the face, a wake up call. Never before has his music possessed this much majesty, this much command, this much power: The pathos here has moved from sympathetic to completely domineering. The amount of dialog around Burial can be a little hard to swallow sometimes, especially when the guy himself seems so resistant-- or at least indifferent-- to the ongoing intellectualization of his music. But what we get on Kindred isn't some loner unknowingly making genius out of samples from Metal Gear Solid on his Playstation. You might not think of refinement when you think of Burial's productions, but just try to imagine it, and you'll get an idea of the kind of glory that Kindred carries. It still might not be the follow-up to Untrue that everyone's been waiting for, but format feels completely irrelevant. When those beats fall into place on the title track, nothing else matters for the next 30 minutes, until the crackle and fizz of "Ashtray Wasps" finally fades away. Then you put it on again. And again. And again. - Andrew Ryce
To anyone who’s been under a rock for a week, Kindred by Burial, aka the Milk Tray man of dubstep, has landed. Snuck out last Sunday, it’s made the entire internet shiver, not least because it confirms that, after last March’s Street Halo, the elusive Will Bevan is still alive. Kode9, Burial’s minder, tweeted that this one would 'def be less than 25 quid' and he’s not lied - it’s a tenth of that over at the Hyperdub website. In three tracks and 30 minutes it shows a more revved-up sound for the recluse, and has already driven scores of bloggers to spew out praise like the proverbial million monkeys.
Well, this is monkey 1,000,001. Bevan has successfully morphed from the boy outside the nightclub to the boy who’s gone back in, found a space and danced like he’s wired up to Guantanamo. Although 'Kindred’ begins with some familiar ingredients - rain, mess, burning cellophane - there’s something rougher behind them; a setup for the beats which contain Burial’s angriest low-end to date. With bass like storm clouds and drums like the Chinese new year, it takes all of two minutes for Bevan to arrange his scrappy beats/soaring chords/vocal pitches, which climax as the melody takes off, the closest he’s got to romance so far. It runs for 12 minutes but Bevan keeps it shifting, like he’s composed while listening to Pink Floyd.
B-side ‘Loner’ - the most predictable Burial track title to date - is also his most upbeat, featuring a sci-fi feel and the 4/4 dance beat he’s avoided thus far. Could it be he’s gone outside? “There is something out there” growls a voice, a quote from either Woody Allen or Mallrats, before Bevan lets rip with chattering sirens, brewing up dubstep for astronomers. ‘Ashtray Wasp’ is ‘Loner’s reflection, all warm Berlin electro and remnants of Bevan’s time with Thom Yorke. The driving lights, pop allure and soul lyrics will give a Swedish massage to his fans; the detour into psy-trance might alienate any of them outside of Germany. Still, it’s enough give pause to those who’d branded him a one-trick pony, and offers the least-obvious finale to the snippet Kode9 premiered last year.
It almost feels gluttonous to heap more praise on this record, but perhaps that’s the aim of Kindred: a moment of unity after the 50 minutes of detachment on Untrue. Burial’s toolkit of seismic bass and litter has been given a severe pep talk here, with each part of Kindred ducking and weaving - think ‘Paranoid Android’ written in SoundForge. Will Bevan’s done the unthinkable in managing to both appease and pull the rug out from under his fans. If future EPs are as solid as this, he can keep that third album under the grill forever. - George Bass
Understated and esoteric are hardly the first words that come to mind when you think of dubstep (more likely: Skrillex and drop, in that order), but they’re two of the ones most often used to describe the genre’s resident auteur Burial. Though he’s only released a handful of material aside from his two full-lengths on Hyperdub, Burial has remained a central figure in the UK’s burgeoning, ever-evolving bass music scene. Despite the seemingly endless stream of praise and acclaim, Burial – who only identified himself as London resident William Bevan after years of speculation on his identity – has done well to ensure that his career continues to be marked by a certain disconnect, a conscious dissociation from any and all stylistic particulars, even as he’s matured from a promising and faceless young prodigy who managed to build a bridge between the most disparate corners of UK garage, rave, and DnB, and in doing so, made himself into one of the most distinctive and influential producers making music today.
With each successive release, Burial’s work has grown even more impossibly textured and immersive, peaking last year with Four Walls, a pair of 12-minute-plus Massive Attack remixes released on a limited 12″ which stretched his musical vision to its limits, never staying in one place for long as they shift and mutate repeatedly over the course of their extended track lengths. As of late, he’s also moved on to much more danceable fare, most notably on “Raver”, Untrue‘s dank, euphoric closer, and the title track off of last year’s Street Halo EP. Kindred, though, marks Burial’s first real move at the dancefloor, opening with the one-two punch of “Kindred” and “Loner”, a pair of tracks that are much more similar than their dichotomous names might suggest, and both of which do well to establish just how far off of his past work Burial has come.
The former appears at first to be familiar ground for fans of his past work, opening with all the usual ingredients of a Burial classic: the snap, crackle, and pop of vinyl mixes with the pitter-patter of rainfall as the track unfolds behind an off-kilter drum pattern and a typically doleful ascending vocal sample. But something’s amiss from the start: The thick, distorted baseline that quietly creeps into the mix is too menacing, the track’s mood too bleak and unstable, even by Burial’s sunless and capricious standards. And suddenly, just as all of “Kindred”s discordant bits and pieces seem about to fall into place, it all dissolves in a matter of seconds into the same gentle crackle from which it began, leaving behind nothing but the solitary vocal line and a subdued, though no less glowering synth pad. It’ll be right around then that you’ll almost definitely check the track time, only to learn that nearly 10 minutes have passed and “Kindred” is still about a minute from its end.
“Loner” opens to a voice calling out “there’s something out there.” There is indeed, as it turns out, a beast lurking nearby, and it leaps up without warning with an impossibly steady backbeat and ravey synth riff held high aloft as its weapons of choice. “Loner” is Burial at his most kinetic, the closest thing to a banger as we’re ever likely to hear from him. “Ashtray Wasp” plays out as the exact opposite, staying mostly off the dancefloor, opting instead to lurk in the shadows cast by “Loner”s haunted crashes where it looms, full of muted menace. “Wasp” also reprises another of Bevan’s favorite narrative forms: the intensely sobering experience that is a solitary bus ride through a desolate nocturnal cityscape. The familiar start-stop motion of late-night public transit is imitated in the track’s frequent and jarring transitions from one mini-suite into another, which themselves play off of the varied and rather unpredictable sounds that bleed without warning in and out the mix: half-audible phone conversations, a flurry of fleeting, half-formed beats, and, beneath it all, a grating sub-bass rumble.
The result of this disconcerting patchwork approach is Burial’s longest and arguably his most fully realized work to date, the furthest extent to which he’s yet taken his singular style that’s either reigned-in maximalism or minimalism gone wild, depending on how you cut it. Kindred as a whole is easily the most exciting Burial release since Untrue redefined dubstep way back in 2007. In the time since that now-hallowed album dropped, the world’s moved past dubstep into post-dubstep, darkstep, and a detritus of other increasingly ridiculously named sub-genres. As it turns out, so has Burial, who proves here that he’s far and above any sort of easy classification. What is Kindred, then? Call it trance, if only for showcasing the irrefutable hypnotic prowess of a master at the peak of his powers.
- Möhammad Choudhery
"Kindred" is basically a suite in itself, a new kind of tumult that only heightens Burial's usual wrenching sorrow, an ambitious new venture repeated in Kindred's other two tracks. "Loner" outdoes the sad-sack ecstacy of Untrue's similarly housey "Raver"-- for one thing, it's a lot faster-- but it's coated in MDMA residue, its chugging kick-and-snare pattern and almost prog-house pumping chord progression drowning in gloss. That chemical energy lends its fatalism an almost heroic sense of momentum, moving and moving and never quite getting anywhere but into the same empty, desperate silence that swallowed "Kindred". It's a well-timed track, navigating the same obsession with house and techno that's gripping the entire bass music world and turning it into something distinctly Burial, perverting house's speedy metronome (and prog house's politics of bliss) into profound, otherworldly sadness.
But as impressive as those two tracks are, there's no real way to prepare for "Ashtray Wasp", also built on a broken house lope. This time it's overloaded with funereal synths and arpeggios that twirl frantically in anguish as if they had nowhere else to go, saturating the cloudy soundscape with particulate matter so intricate it's a wonder all this sound data can be contained in a single mp3, nevermind a groove in wax. The fluttering effects are only further confused by the bleary smudge of it all, cinematic and grand but stuck in Burial's world of canned frequencies: The locust-swarm effect of the filters is impossibly stirring, far more visceral than perfect clarity ever could have been. It falls apart about seven minutes in before reconstructing into an even more decayed beat, violently wedged apart by static-- recalling the most challenging work of the Caretaker and his vinyl experiments. "Ashtray Wasp" suggests a structural intricacy and awe-inspiring execution from one of electronic music's mopiest producers, and the result might be his definitive track.
It's hard to talk about Kindred-- whether in the context of electronic dance music or just in the Burial discography itself-- without resorting to superlative terms, because it really is just that impressive. It's easy enough to take a talent such as Burial for granted, but Kindred is like a convenient slap in the face, a wake up call. Never before has his music possessed this much majesty, this much command, this much power: The pathos here has moved from sympathetic to completely domineering. The amount of dialog around Burial can be a little hard to swallow sometimes, especially when the guy himself seems so resistant-- or at least indifferent-- to the ongoing intellectualization of his music. But what we get on Kindred isn't some loner unknowingly making genius out of samples from Metal Gear Solid on his Playstation. You might not think of refinement when you think of Burial's productions, but just try to imagine it, and you'll get an idea of the kind of glory that Kindred carries. It still might not be the follow-up to Untrue that everyone's been waiting for, but format feels completely irrelevant. When those beats fall into place on the title track, nothing else matters for the next 30 minutes, until the crackle and fizz of "Ashtray Wasps" finally fades away. Then you put it on again. And again. And again. - Andrew Ryce
To anyone who’s been under a rock for a week, Kindred by Burial, aka the Milk Tray man of dubstep, has landed. Snuck out last Sunday, it’s made the entire internet shiver, not least because it confirms that, after last March’s Street Halo, the elusive Will Bevan is still alive. Kode9, Burial’s minder, tweeted that this one would 'def be less than 25 quid' and he’s not lied - it’s a tenth of that over at the Hyperdub website. In three tracks and 30 minutes it shows a more revved-up sound for the recluse, and has already driven scores of bloggers to spew out praise like the proverbial million monkeys.
Well, this is monkey 1,000,001. Bevan has successfully morphed from the boy outside the nightclub to the boy who’s gone back in, found a space and danced like he’s wired up to Guantanamo. Although 'Kindred’ begins with some familiar ingredients - rain, mess, burning cellophane - there’s something rougher behind them; a setup for the beats which contain Burial’s angriest low-end to date. With bass like storm clouds and drums like the Chinese new year, it takes all of two minutes for Bevan to arrange his scrappy beats/soaring chords/vocal pitches, which climax as the melody takes off, the closest he’s got to romance so far. It runs for 12 minutes but Bevan keeps it shifting, like he’s composed while listening to Pink Floyd.
B-side ‘Loner’ - the most predictable Burial track title to date - is also his most upbeat, featuring a sci-fi feel and the 4/4 dance beat he’s avoided thus far. Could it be he’s gone outside? “There is something out there” growls a voice, a quote from either Woody Allen or Mallrats, before Bevan lets rip with chattering sirens, brewing up dubstep for astronomers. ‘Ashtray Wasp’ is ‘Loner’s reflection, all warm Berlin electro and remnants of Bevan’s time with Thom Yorke. The driving lights, pop allure and soul lyrics will give a Swedish massage to his fans; the detour into psy-trance might alienate any of them outside of Germany. Still, it’s enough give pause to those who’d branded him a one-trick pony, and offers the least-obvious finale to the snippet Kode9 premiered last year.
It almost feels gluttonous to heap more praise on this record, but perhaps that’s the aim of Kindred: a moment of unity after the 50 minutes of detachment on Untrue. Burial’s toolkit of seismic bass and litter has been given a severe pep talk here, with each part of Kindred ducking and weaving - think ‘Paranoid Android’ written in SoundForge. Will Bevan’s done the unthinkable in managing to both appease and pull the rug out from under his fans. If future EPs are as solid as this, he can keep that third album under the grill forever. - George Bass
Understated and esoteric are hardly the first words that come to mind when you think of dubstep (more likely: Skrillex and drop, in that order), but they’re two of the ones most often used to describe the genre’s resident auteur Burial. Though he’s only released a handful of material aside from his two full-lengths on Hyperdub, Burial has remained a central figure in the UK’s burgeoning, ever-evolving bass music scene. Despite the seemingly endless stream of praise and acclaim, Burial – who only identified himself as London resident William Bevan after years of speculation on his identity – has done well to ensure that his career continues to be marked by a certain disconnect, a conscious dissociation from any and all stylistic particulars, even as he’s matured from a promising and faceless young prodigy who managed to build a bridge between the most disparate corners of UK garage, rave, and DnB, and in doing so, made himself into one of the most distinctive and influential producers making music today.
With each successive release, Burial’s work has grown even more impossibly textured and immersive, peaking last year with Four Walls, a pair of 12-minute-plus Massive Attack remixes released on a limited 12″ which stretched his musical vision to its limits, never staying in one place for long as they shift and mutate repeatedly over the course of their extended track lengths. As of late, he’s also moved on to much more danceable fare, most notably on “Raver”, Untrue‘s dank, euphoric closer, and the title track off of last year’s Street Halo EP. Kindred, though, marks Burial’s first real move at the dancefloor, opening with the one-two punch of “Kindred” and “Loner”, a pair of tracks that are much more similar than their dichotomous names might suggest, and both of which do well to establish just how far off of his past work Burial has come.
The former appears at first to be familiar ground for fans of his past work, opening with all the usual ingredients of a Burial classic: the snap, crackle, and pop of vinyl mixes with the pitter-patter of rainfall as the track unfolds behind an off-kilter drum pattern and a typically doleful ascending vocal sample. But something’s amiss from the start: The thick, distorted baseline that quietly creeps into the mix is too menacing, the track’s mood too bleak and unstable, even by Burial’s sunless and capricious standards. And suddenly, just as all of “Kindred”s discordant bits and pieces seem about to fall into place, it all dissolves in a matter of seconds into the same gentle crackle from which it began, leaving behind nothing but the solitary vocal line and a subdued, though no less glowering synth pad. It’ll be right around then that you’ll almost definitely check the track time, only to learn that nearly 10 minutes have passed and “Kindred” is still about a minute from its end.
“Loner” opens to a voice calling out “there’s something out there.” There is indeed, as it turns out, a beast lurking nearby, and it leaps up without warning with an impossibly steady backbeat and ravey synth riff held high aloft as its weapons of choice. “Loner” is Burial at his most kinetic, the closest thing to a banger as we’re ever likely to hear from him. “Ashtray Wasp” plays out as the exact opposite, staying mostly off the dancefloor, opting instead to lurk in the shadows cast by “Loner”s haunted crashes where it looms, full of muted menace. “Wasp” also reprises another of Bevan’s favorite narrative forms: the intensely sobering experience that is a solitary bus ride through a desolate nocturnal cityscape. The familiar start-stop motion of late-night public transit is imitated in the track’s frequent and jarring transitions from one mini-suite into another, which themselves play off of the varied and rather unpredictable sounds that bleed without warning in and out the mix: half-audible phone conversations, a flurry of fleeting, half-formed beats, and, beneath it all, a grating sub-bass rumble.
The result of this disconcerting patchwork approach is Burial’s longest and arguably his most fully realized work to date, the furthest extent to which he’s yet taken his singular style that’s either reigned-in maximalism or minimalism gone wild, depending on how you cut it. Kindred as a whole is easily the most exciting Burial release since Untrue redefined dubstep way back in 2007. In the time since that now-hallowed album dropped, the world’s moved past dubstep into post-dubstep, darkstep, and a detritus of other increasingly ridiculously named sub-genres. As it turns out, so has Burial, who proves here that he’s far and above any sort of easy classification. What is Kindred, then? Call it trance, if only for showcasing the irrefutable hypnotic prowess of a master at the peak of his powers.
- Möhammad Choudhery
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