Dreamfear / Boy Sent From Above
Feel the fucking rush with Burial on a proper hardcore and Latin freestyle flex across two of his best in recent memory. Tears of pleasure right here.
Your boy is on an absolute belter for OG rave label XL, marking nigh on two decades since his debut with a return to source in running man breaks and spine-quiver darkside torque up top, then knocking it out of the park with a deadly spin on hardcore’s sorely overlooked roots in Latin freestyle electro. They’re both A*, but jeeeez that B-side is beyond belief, zooming in on a particularly personal field of fascination in mid-late ’80s Miami-via-NYC freestyle that has arguably been obscured by successive waves of development and overgrowth in the ‘ardcore ‘nuum.
As beloved by everyone from AFX and Autechre to Bob Stanley, Joey Beltram, Carl Cox and Todd Terry/Masters at Work; the slinky edits and power dance synth fanfare of Latin freestyle were utterly crucial components in the ‘80s dance music phenomenon that begat house, techno, hardcore, and all that good stuff. On ‘Boy Sent From Above’ Burial magpies and mutates its most salient aspects - sexy AF electro rhythms, melancholy melodic pomp and ultra expressive vox - thru a patented cinematic, uchronic lens in a style that utterly takes our breath away, effectively taking 13 minutes to freehand graffiti its timeline - from Bobby O and Latin Rascals via hints of Carl Cox’s debut ‘Let The Bass Kick’ (itself based on an obscure Miami breakbeat/freestyle cut) and early Doc Scott - on the back of flickering eyelids. Bravo lad; here’s to a whole freestyle revival on the horizon.
Then there’s ‘Dreamfear’, tapping right into the fractured roots of hardcore circa ’92, right on the cusp of its happy/darkside flux and bifurcation, when gargantuan rave crowds were spellbound by sped-up breaks, neuro synth rushes and Proustian samples designed to trigger doves sold to them by bouncers on the door and dudes with dodgiest ponytails. The first seven minutes are pure rushy ecstasy, but the 2nd wind drop around 8 minutes, and the jump-cut coda to dark trance are just chef’s kiss, too. We live for this shit.
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Feel the fucking rush with Burial on a proper hardcore and Latin freestyle flex across two of his best in recent memory. Tears of pleasure right here.
Your boy is on an absolute belter for OG rave label XL, marking nigh on two decades since his debut with a return to source in running man breaks and spine-quiver darkside torque up top, then knocking it out of the park with a deadly spin on hardcore’s sorely overlooked roots in Latin freestyle electro. They’re both A*, but jeeeez that B-side is beyond belief, zooming in on a particularly personal field of fascination in mid-late ’80s Miami-via-NYC freestyle that has arguably been obscured by successive waves of development and overgrowth in the ‘ardcore ‘nuum.
As beloved by everyone from AFX and Autechre to Bob Stanley, Joey Beltram, Carl Cox and Todd Terry/Masters at Work; the slinky edits and power dance synth fanfare of Latin freestyle were utterly crucial components in the ‘80s dance music phenomenon that begat house, techno, hardcore, and all that good stuff. On ‘Boy Sent From Above’ Burial magpies and mutates its most salient aspects - sexy AF electro rhythms, melancholy melodic pomp and ultra expressive vox - thru a patented cinematic, uchronic lens in a style that utterly takes our breath away, effectively taking 13 minutes to freehand graffiti its timeline - from Bobby O and Latin Rascals via hints of Carl Cox’s debut ‘Let The Bass Kick’ (itself based on an obscure Miami breakbeat/freestyle cut) and early Doc Scott - on the back of flickering eyelids. Bravo lad; here’s to a whole freestyle revival on the horizon.
Then there’s ‘Dreamfear’, tapping right into the fractured roots of hardcore circa ’92, right on the cusp of its happy/darkside flux and bifurcation, when gargantuan rave crowds were spellbound by sped-up breaks, neuro synth rushes and Proustian samples designed to trigger doves sold to them by bouncers on the door and dudes with dodgiest ponytails. The first seven minutes are pure rushy ecstasy, but the 2nd wind drop around 8 minutes, and the jump-cut coda to dark trance are just chef’s kiss, too. We live for this shit.
Feel the fucking rush with Burial on a proper hardcore and Latin freestyle flex across two of his best in recent memory. Tears of pleasure right here.
Your boy is on an absolute belter for OG rave label XL, marking nigh on two decades since his debut with a return to source in running man breaks and spine-quiver darkside torque up top, then knocking it out of the park with a deadly spin on hardcore’s sorely overlooked roots in Latin freestyle electro. They’re both A*, but jeeeez that B-side is beyond belief, zooming in on a particularly personal field of fascination in mid-late ’80s Miami-via-NYC freestyle that has arguably been obscured by successive waves of development and overgrowth in the ‘ardcore ‘nuum.
As beloved by everyone from AFX and Autechre to Bob Stanley, Joey Beltram, Carl Cox and Todd Terry/Masters at Work; the slinky edits and power dance synth fanfare of Latin freestyle were utterly crucial components in the ‘80s dance music phenomenon that begat house, techno, hardcore, and all that good stuff. On ‘Boy Sent From Above’ Burial magpies and mutates its most salient aspects - sexy AF electro rhythms, melancholy melodic pomp and ultra expressive vox - thru a patented cinematic, uchronic lens in a style that utterly takes our breath away, effectively taking 13 minutes to freehand graffiti its timeline - from Bobby O and Latin Rascals via hints of Carl Cox’s debut ‘Let The Bass Kick’ (itself based on an obscure Miami breakbeat/freestyle cut) and early Doc Scott - on the back of flickering eyelids. Bravo lad; here’s to a whole freestyle revival on the horizon.
Then there’s ‘Dreamfear’, tapping right into the fractured roots of hardcore circa ’92, right on the cusp of its happy/darkside flux and bifurcation, when gargantuan rave crowds were spellbound by sped-up breaks, neuro synth rushes and Proustian samples designed to trigger doves sold to them by bouncers on the door and dudes with dodgiest ponytails. The first seven minutes are pure rushy ecstasy, but the 2nd wind drop around 8 minutes, and the jump-cut coda to dark trance are just chef’s kiss, too. We live for this shit.
Feel the fucking rush with Burial on a proper hardcore and Latin freestyle flex across two of his best in recent memory. Tears of pleasure right here.
Your boy is on an absolute belter for OG rave label XL, marking nigh on two decades since his debut with a return to source in running man breaks and spine-quiver darkside torque up top, then knocking it out of the park with a deadly spin on hardcore’s sorely overlooked roots in Latin freestyle electro. They’re both A*, but jeeeez that B-side is beyond belief, zooming in on a particularly personal field of fascination in mid-late ’80s Miami-via-NYC freestyle that has arguably been obscured by successive waves of development and overgrowth in the ‘ardcore ‘nuum.
As beloved by everyone from AFX and Autechre to Bob Stanley, Joey Beltram, Carl Cox and Todd Terry/Masters at Work; the slinky edits and power dance synth fanfare of Latin freestyle were utterly crucial components in the ‘80s dance music phenomenon that begat house, techno, hardcore, and all that good stuff. On ‘Boy Sent From Above’ Burial magpies and mutates its most salient aspects - sexy AF electro rhythms, melancholy melodic pomp and ultra expressive vox - thru a patented cinematic, uchronic lens in a style that utterly takes our breath away, effectively taking 13 minutes to freehand graffiti its timeline - from Bobby O and Latin Rascals via hints of Carl Cox’s debut ‘Let The Bass Kick’ (itself based on an obscure Miami breakbeat/freestyle cut) and early Doc Scott - on the back of flickering eyelids. Bravo lad; here’s to a whole freestyle revival on the horizon.
Then there’s ‘Dreamfear’, tapping right into the fractured roots of hardcore circa ’92, right on the cusp of its happy/darkside flux and bifurcation, when gargantuan rave crowds were spellbound by sped-up breaks, neuro synth rushes and Proustian samples designed to trigger doves sold to them by bouncers on the door and dudes with dodgiest ponytails. The first seven minutes are pure rushy ecstasy, but the 2nd wind drop around 8 minutes, and the jump-cut coda to dark trance are just chef’s kiss, too. We live for this shit.
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Feel the fucking rush with Burial on a proper hardcore and Latin freestyle flex across two of his best in recent memory. Tears of pleasure right here.
Your boy is on an absolute belter for OG rave label XL, marking nigh on two decades since his debut with a return to source in running man breaks and spine-quiver darkside torque up top, then knocking it out of the park with a deadly spin on hardcore’s sorely overlooked roots in Latin freestyle electro. They’re both A*, but jeeeez that B-side is beyond belief, zooming in on a particularly personal field of fascination in mid-late ’80s Miami-via-NYC freestyle that has arguably been obscured by successive waves of development and overgrowth in the ‘ardcore ‘nuum.
As beloved by everyone from AFX and Autechre to Bob Stanley, Joey Beltram, Carl Cox and Todd Terry/Masters at Work; the slinky edits and power dance synth fanfare of Latin freestyle were utterly crucial components in the ‘80s dance music phenomenon that begat house, techno, hardcore, and all that good stuff. On ‘Boy Sent From Above’ Burial magpies and mutates its most salient aspects - sexy AF electro rhythms, melancholy melodic pomp and ultra expressive vox - thru a patented cinematic, uchronic lens in a style that utterly takes our breath away, effectively taking 13 minutes to freehand graffiti its timeline - from Bobby O and Latin Rascals via hints of Carl Cox’s debut ‘Let The Bass Kick’ (itself based on an obscure Miami breakbeat/freestyle cut) and early Doc Scott - on the back of flickering eyelids. Bravo lad; here’s to a whole freestyle revival on the horizon.
Then there’s ‘Dreamfear’, tapping right into the fractured roots of hardcore circa ’92, right on the cusp of its happy/darkside flux and bifurcation, when gargantuan rave crowds were spellbound by sped-up breaks, neuro synth rushes and Proustian samples designed to trigger doves sold to them by bouncers on the door and dudes with dodgiest ponytails. The first seven minutes are pure rushy ecstasy, but the 2nd wind drop around 8 minutes, and the jump-cut coda to dark trance are just chef’s kiss, too. We live for this shit.