(Hyperdub)
RECOMMENDED
The notion behind Rival Dealer is all but explicitly stated in the last of its three tracks, "Come Down to Us," which samples a heartrending speech given last year by filmmaker Lana Wachowski, wherein she opened up about her life, self-discovery and acceptance as a trans woman and the slow acknowledgement that there was nothing wrong with being who she was. Abuse of "those who follow their instincts and are told they sin," as another dance artist put it, would be clearly on Burial's mind even if he hadn't talked about it on television. Even with half an ear perked up, you detect that this is the lushest, warmest music he has released thus far. He expects it to be a comfort to many listeners in hard times, but dance music always has filled that purpose, whether it explicitly stated its emotional thrust or not.
Rival Dealer is really and truly new, but it's also just as frustrating as Burial's work has always been, just with a humane sheen and a moving "you are not alone" mantra atop it. As ever, the central dichotomy across these twenty-eight minutes is a systematic tearing in half of William Bevan between his interest in restless minimalism and his interest in the groove. The three songs are barely divided in any manner that makes actual sense -- the track number on your hypothetical CD player that you don't actually use does change eleven minutes in, then all the more arbitrarily after a further five. Poppy middle creation "Hiders" does divide itself somewhat neatly; its kinda-pretty exhilaration allows for something so direct as a "take me away" command on a hedonistic dancefloor -- the joy of escape from an obligation to be what others want.
"Rival Dealer" itself is approximately twelve cuts strung together, though more intuitively than usual. Its initial, immersive heat and beckon eventually collapses into some filthy trap-house with hellish beat, plus immediately confrontational dialogue and autotune. All the while, Burial comes on like a guy preoccupied with even weirder ambient influences than is average for modern electronic music: flip through a police scanner with one of those tropical-thunderstorm sound effect CDs on in the background, throwing on a few different beats at lenient intervals, and you can pretty much approximate this wild and slightly overbearing DJ set. All is forgiven as Rival Dealer proceeds, and reveals the method behind its quiet desperation. It does feel like an act of kindness, but it arrives at this in a most peculiar and hard-won fashion, and it's doubtful that Burial would allow even the most downtrodden any reassurance further than that!
As an aside, I've generally disliked everything Burial's put out till now, so color me the dipshit who only likes the easy and friendly stuff. What else is new.
[SEE ALSO:]
Kindred EP (2012)
No comments:
Post a Comment