Untrue

What gives this album more depth is the focus, the rolling symmetry and cinema.

Top-heavy with sad string passages and mournful vocal loops, Untrue is an album meant to be heard at home, in the car, on headphones-- his songs feel almost like beautiful secrets being whispered to a listener.

As addictive as its predecessor, Untrue confirms that Burial possesses not just the keen ear of a Lee Perry or Martin Hannett.

It seems as though the quick release of Untrue restricted Burial from burying his emotions underneath layers of alternatively sparse and overwhelming production as he did on his debut, resulting in an album that instead wears them unabashedly on its sleeve.

Untrue is complex, stark, tender, blurred and breathtaking. Burial has managed the impossible and improved on his faultless debut.

The anonymous producer behind the work of Burial is letting his dubstep sounds progress and on his impressive sophomore album he can be found chasing the transient hints of beauty to be found in the confines of urban desolation.

If you can appreciate the style of dubstep employed by Burial, it's easy to fall head over heels for Untrue, an album on which there are absolutely no mainstream-crossover concessions, no ego trips, and no willful stylistic variation--an album where the music, a singular style of it, takes center stage with no distractions or sideshows, where there's never the urge to skip to the next track, because they're all part and parcel of the greater whole.

Untrue deepens and expands his emotional range. [Feb 2008, p.92]

Untrue crackles with high-tension, excitement and yearning.

The album works as an ambient whole, its fog-bank synths, yearning vocal slivers and stoic basslines filling the room with melancholy.

Machine music this unrelentingly intimate is worth the attention it requires.

Burial has concocted a noir-ish sound that’s as powerful as it is atmospheric.

Burbling electronic ticktocks vie with a carillon of bell simulacra, and rarely have vinyl crackle or laser malfunction generated more musicality.

Even as someone who knows very little about electronic music, this album is affecting. You will never get the urge to skip a song and you will desire and covet every sound that’s emitted from this album because they make up one tremendous, collective entity in Untrue.

That emptiness tempts a listener in, and puts you in its place--you, in a sense, step into the record’s point of view. This invitation to intimacy is a powerful move that most club music is simply incapable of.

While the percussion-free 'Endorphin' and 'Dog Shelter' paint haunting pictures of isolation and heartache, a warm and generous humanity runs just beneath the surface. It's this quality that lends the propulsive woodblock throb of the closing 'Raver' its muted euphoria.

The human voice, the most striking change in Burial’s sound, renders Untrue superior to its predecessor.

Needless to say, Untrue shatters any ideas of a sophomore slump.

Why anyone would want to be subjected to such gloom is a good question, except that Burial is a witch with the kind of drum programming that leaves no choice in the matter.

Untrue lives in the present, its more complex moods showcasing the emotional range that marks Burial out as more than just another bloke with a computer. [Jan 2008, p.108]