I could be Burial. You could be Burial.

Few things move me anymore.

Throughout my music-listening career I have gone through a series of highs and lows--a sine curve between inspiration and complete dispassion. Previously, the biggest musical slump I had was the summer of 2004, when I was in Minneapolis. I couldn't find a new album to listen to for the life of me, as much as Chris and Wipert tried to sell me on their instrumental and Brit Pop/emo music, respectively (obviously). It was quite frustrating.

At the end of that summer, Chris made me a mix CD that helped me reconnect with music after months of being unable to. It had fantastic, custom-made artwork. On the inside of the case it had a little pocket that housed stickers promoting Interpol's then-upcoming release, Antics. And on the back it had a series of inside (hilarious) jokes from the summer, such as "CT shops at Joe's Market," "Buce douche riot! Pious!," and "What a scoop!" I remember listening to this thing as I drove my dad's (and Radio Tokyo's ex-) van over the St. Croix river for the last time that summer and being blown away by the first songs I heard by Aurore Rien, Jon Brion, Maserati, Stars, and so on. It was the perfect end to a perfect summer.

So I guess it's appropriate that Chris is the one who brought me out of the current musical slump (fingers crossed). Listening to his Top 100 Songs of 2007 list introduced me to a surprising number of great songs and artists. I have listened to many songs obsessively (more on that later?), but one stands out way above the rest. The song is"Archangel" by Burial, an anonymous UK dubstepper, and it comes from his second album, Untrue.

I have since read that Burial wrote "Archangel" after his dog died and his mom (one of the supposed five people who know Burial's true identity) told him to write a song about it. This song captures the grief and loneliness of losing someone better than any song I've heard since The Prayer Boat's Polichinelle. And it does this with ridiculously innovative production--gender-blended vocals, haunting ambiance, fresh click drums, and a ghostly crackle track. The result is the freshest song I've heard in months.

The rest of Untrue is meticulously subtle and eerily beautiful. I fell in love with the album when walking around downtown Chicago late one foggy January night. The street lights and the fog created this orange glow around the city. You couldn't actually see the lights, but the aura was everywhere. This ghostly glow combined with an urban setting completely devoid of any sort of population was the perfect setting to listen to this headphones masterpiece. Everything about this album screams loneliness: the lack of the creator's identity; the sublime lyrics; the subtle tweaks that can only be fully appreciated by carefully listening on headphones; even the artwork featuring a isolated man with nothing but his coffee; .

The highlights on the album are numerous: the song-transforming non-transition at 3:29 on "Shell of Light" give me shivers every time; the Cassie-like synth-bass and layer upon layer of vocals on the aurgasm called "Homeless"; the rolling vocoded vocals on "Etched Headplate". But like a truly great album, each listen brings light to a new highlight. Even after dozens of listens new layers appear of nowhere: a distant vocal track surfaces, crackles and pops (such as sampled rain and fire) start to stand out, whole tracks that have previously passed as filler take the main stage. The result is an addictive album that maintains its appeal listen after listen.

If you have any interest in electronic music, I can't recommend the album enough. It's the perfect blend of the innovation of non-instrument-based music and the emotion often completely overlooked by electronic music.

And thanks again, Chris, for the suggestion.