Wednesday, February 22, 2012


Stuck in a dreary office under artificial light, I am listening over
and over to Burial's Kindred and I am back home in London, transported
by his brilliant re-creation of the world I once walked in.

How did he know how much I yearn for my home, for the magical city I
once called home? How did he paint such an accurate picture not of how
it looks or even how it sounds, not how it feels, not even that, but
how it is to be there?

Music to sigh to, it is deeply romantic, nostalgic without
sentimentality but without the cynicism that blights modern music.

Were it a full album, it would be very hard to see another album
beating this for album of the year, and although this could not exist
without the music it mutates and builds on, I doubt I will hear
anything fresher or more innovative any time soon.

The other night, driving Zenella to her mum's, I was playing Kindred.
Suddenly, I said to her, in ten years, get out of this place, Zenella.
Don't be stuck here. She didn't say anything in return.


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