Burial (2007) - Untrue

Tracklist:

1. Untitled (Hidden Track) – 0:46

2. Archangel – 3:59

3. Near Dark – 3:55

4. Ghost Hardware – 4:55

5. Endorphin – 2:57

6. Etched Headplate – 6:00

7. In McDonalds – 2:09

8. Untrue – 6:17

9. Shell of Light – 4:40

10. Dog Shelter – 2:01

11. Homeless – 5:20

12. UK – 1:42

13. Raver – 4:58

When Untrue was released in 2007, it didn’t arrive with fanfare or hype. There were no performances, no music videos, no interviews — just a shadowy figure known as Burial, offering up something intimate, grainy, and heartbreakingly human. Nearly two decades later, it's widely regarded as a modern classic — not just in electronic music, but in contemporary music as a whole.

Untrue sounds like the memory of a city you’ve never been to, or a moment you’re not sure ever really happened. Its textures are damp and ghostly — chopped vocal samples float in and out like fragments of conversation overheard on a rainy night. Beats shuffle and skip as if they’re barely holding themselves together. There are no drops, no crescendos — just a sustained emotional resonance that feels simultaneously urban and ethereal.

Burial takes cues from UK garage, 2-step, and dubstep, but reimagines them as vessels for emotional storytelling. The album doesn’t bang — it haunts.

At its center is “Archangel,” a song so quietly powerful that it’s often cited as one of the greatest electronic tracks of all time. It’s stitched together from pitch-shifted vocal snippets (from an R&B acapella, no less) and anchored by a stumbling beat that sounds like it was recorded on a broken tape deck. And yet, it hits deep — evoking heartbreak, memory, and longing without ever stating a single clear narrative.

“Ghost Hardware,” “Etched Headplate,” and “Shell of Light” continue the album’s exploration of emotional abstraction. They're full of reverb-soaked silence, glitched-out rhythms, and warped vocal phrases that sound more like subconscious thoughts than lyrics.

“In McDonalds” and “Dog Shelter” strip things down even further — nearly ambient, barely present, like the sound of watching someone cry through a rainy bus window.

Despite its abstract construction, Untrue is one of the most personal albums of its era. Burial (later revealed as William Bevan) spoke of the album as being inspired by friends, late nights, loneliness, and his own quiet observations of life in South London. There’s no manifesto here — just deeply felt emotion rendered in warped vinyl hiss, ambient rain, and fractured voices.

Untrue doesn’t sound like 2007 — it sounds like after. After the party, after the conversation, after love. It’s music for headphones, for walking home alone at night, for remembering things you’re not sure you should. It’s an album that redefined the boundaries of electronic music without ever trying to — a perfect example of how minimalism, restraint, and anonymity can yield profound connection.

It may not shout, but Untrue continues to resonate — quietly, endlessly, like a heartbeat you didn’t know you missed.