Periodically the tempos drop, giving way to moments of screeching near-silence interrupted by a muttered voice or shaken spray can, but even with these pauses, the track is exhausting. As muscular as the grooves are – in the tradition of many classic hardcore records on XL, the veteran UK label behind this EP – it feels more like a record about clubbing than For clubbing. Burial's narrative instincts overshadow any interest in dancefloor functionality. He's a storyteller who spins yarns partly with sonics and partly with carefully chosen vocal samples: “This love, like a drug.” “If only you knew the things I've done.” “That's me”; “Once it's inside you, it takes over your bloodstream.” “There was something else about drugs.” One of the last sounds we hear is a low voice, digitally scrambled almost to the point of indecipherability, hissing simply, “Death.”
“Boy Sent From Above” is more polished and upbeat, trading the A-side's powerful breaks for techno and electro side compositions. Like 'Dreamfear', this runs through several tracks, like a clubber gliding from room to crowded room, but most of its 13-minute running time is given over to a freakish freestyle synth arpeggio – in which you can hear an echo the subject of Harold Faltermeyer to Beverly Hills Cop—combined with stab-major chords that sparkle like icicles in the sun. The mood is summed up by a plaintive bit of a hat played several times when the music stops, paired with clattering spray cans and ruminative slogans: “We ran through town/Into the dark.” One of Burial's main experiences has long been nostalgia for a halcyon age of renegade freedom, and here, the image of a graffiti artist pushing for wild youth seems to epitomize the artist's worldview.
Or does it become a stick? It can be hard to tell. If you love Burial – especially the crazy turn of his work over the last decade – you'll love the great passion of “Boy Sent From Above” and the high drama of “Dreamfear”. If you feel like you've heard enough pasted-on vinyl rattles to last you a lifetime, or aren't particularly invested in the hagiography of rave music's formative years, you probably won't find anything new here.
But the new is not the point. Using not only the same tropes, but even many of the same samples he's used in the past, Burial seems to be pursuing his long-standing work of world-building and self-mythology to increasingly hermetic ends, delving deeper into a state of déjà vu. though by recreating the memory from every possible angle, he could retain it forever. By the way, it's the most exciting track, “Dreamfear”, that pushes the ease of nostalgia, even if it's also harder to listen to. Perhaps the most interesting thing Dreamfear / Boy sent from above it's that Burial almost sounds like it's arguing with itself – content with a memory one moment, frantically searching for a way out the next.
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