Warm chameleons and rigid threats

One of the most curious things about the commodification of art, music in particular, is the way in which certain kinds of sounds are assigned utility, cast in the role of aural furniture to accomplish mental décor. To wit: elevator music, "lite" radio, and, y'know, atmospheric British street music, which is best known in America as the perfect beats to boutique by. Though it would probably pain him to no end, enigmatic dubstep producer Burial (he's still otherwise anonymous—paging Banksy) fits comfortably into the tradition established by his fellow moody, drum-machine-wielding countrymen like Tricky and Geoff Barrow of Portishead.

The rest of my review of Burial's difficult and excellent record Untrue can be found at Slant Magazine.