Forget all the equipment, forget the music, at the end of the day it’s just literally frequencies and their effects on your brain. That’s what’s everyone’s essentially after.
When Armageddon takes place, parking is going to be a major problem.
Art Director Fernando Domínguez Cózar, Valencia, Spain.
Some sort of pressure must exist; the artist exists because the world is not perfect. Art would be useless if the world were perfect, as man wouldn’t look for harmony but would simply live in it. Art is born out of an ill-designed world.
Where would UK dance music be without Burial’s Untrue? The South Londoner’s second album, released ten years ago this month on Hyperdub, has arguably done more than any other record in recent history to shape electronic music, presenting not only novel production techniques but the power of rooting a record in a specific time, mood and place. Through its dank textures and heart-wrenching vocals, Untrue portrays the darker side of London, a rainy metropolis filled with lonely citizens and long-forgotten clubs. But it’s not all doom and gloom. Peeking through the shadows are glimmers of light, hope, even euphoria. To quote the man himself, it’s these flashes that ultimately give Untrue its “buzzin’, glowy, uplifting” edge.
This video essay, the first of its kind on Resident Advisor, tells the story of Untrue, from the software and the samples to its influence on a whole generation of producers.
The mystery surrounding Burial means there’s a lot we’ll probably never know. But then that’s part of what makes Untrue such an iconic piece of work.
Writer: Carlos Hawthorn
Editor: Sophie Misrahi
Graphics: Mike Winkelmann
IC3PEAK + Subsets + River Bones + Circling Skies.
One might say that there is an “ethics barrier” a speed above which ethics can no longer exit. After that point the only remaining goal is to survive the immediate moment.
Mauro Picotto + Kreisel & Idiosynkrasia + SHAHMEN + Rare.
Pow-wow circles and peace pipes
Greet a storyteller spelling out the key to life
My shell’s a gun now still I carry them
And my spirit not the dirt that they’re buried in…