Burial. It's a name I knew before hearing the music.As a recent ex-pat living in London my history is not of garage, hardcore and dubstep, but of loitering in the Australian suburbs and listening to California punk. In the mid-00s Burial didn't exist to me and yet, seven years on and worlds apart, there's something about the lonely percussive loops and muffled voices of his 2006 self-titled debut, Untrue, and "Paradise Circus", "Kindred", and "Truant" to follow, that still apply to my past. It's in the intangible familiarity; a sound heard through a haze that makes Burial's music as generational as it is acutely personal, identifying a deep, confounding sense of loss.That terrifying uncertainty, that groundless reality, hasn't dissipated with "Rival Dealer"; with the rising histrionics of the title-track and the crumbling, acid techno death march of "Hiders", it's only become more agitated. Mangled exoticisms hurtle into the elevated, slightly queer trance of "Come Down To Us", making it less summer party anthem and more alien suicide cult at the frenzied cusp of the great disappointment. A feminine voice breathlessly announces, "I saw something".