Lyrical Analysis: “Rival Dealer EP” by Burial

Here” is a link to all three songs.  You can read all full vocally-sampled lyrics, here.

cover

The scene starts ominous, as if setting up an epic entrance for a wrestling or boxing match. The rival dealer has arrived and their first words are a promise, repeated: “I’m gonna love you more than anyone” followed by “This is who I am.” Right off the bat, this music is presenting itself as a kind friend in the dark of the night. Typically Burial’s music follows this sort of vibe, but Rival Dealer soon takes on far more purposeful sampling and direction than one might expect.

Alien samples of spaceships, suggestive of a truly alternative perspective, start to open up the skies. The entire time, there is an emphasis on unconditional — even competitive — love for you as the listener. Reading the room, Burial drops the first direct communication that this release is an explicit message: “It’s about sexuality, it’s about showing a person who you are, and to me, this is who I’m about.” Soon after, the lines “Sometimes you are trying to find yourself / And you run away always / And that’s what happened to me / I’ve chosen” reveal that this project truly is counter to the straight-and-narrow pathway, encouraging self-discovery and exploration.

What’s interesting is the intensity of music, as if there’s something at stake. Even the name “Rival Dealer” evokes thoughts of shady transactions and dealings: the first-impression of that title would imply competition and an antagonist, but upon closer listening, it becomes clear the opposite is true. To an outcast, society is a rival constantly pushing and marginalizing them to the edge of existence. Here, Burial has come with a counter, a rival to that experience. The dealer is one of experiences, specifically, an emphasis that you’re pathway is your own and maybe with a little inspiration, you can find your own way.

“This is the best way to go.”

Indeed, another subtle line suggests we are in a transitional space, one of greys and uncertainty; of guarded feelings and hesitation. Yet in that in-between is potential. The line “Tian di jian” translates from Mandarin Chinese to “between heaven and earth” and soon after we hear the first extensive speech that is more than just a few words, and it begins with the above quote “This is the best way to go,” and proceeds to describe a seemingly-hidden, secret place where all is absolutely clear “At night, you can see the city lights brighter than ever.”

Without any delay, “Hiders” begins with an immediate vocal sample: “There’s a kid somewhere” and brings in cinematic, uplifting instrumentation suggestive of an epiphany. It is as if one is beginning to step away from that liminal space and into something much more visceral and clear: “You are the sound, it flies / The sound flies home / Out of the dawn.” The experience Burial has dealt us is one of protection and assurance (“I will always protect you.”) This sentiment is repeated over and over and the mood has completely shifted from a dark edge to one of euphoric realization. It’s as if what you have been dealt is “kicking in,” but in this case, it’s clarity. Indeed, with Phil Collins-style drums, the phrase “You don’t have to be alone” repeats twice at the tracks climax.

That the track is called “Hiders” implies not just one, but a world of people hiding their true selves. The phrase “Come down to us” is played at the end of both “Rival Dealer” and “Hiders” and it’s becoming clear that we have kept ourselves so closed-off, it’s almost as if we’ve yet to even enter the world. At this knowledge, the ominous vibes return, almost as if having a bad trip. In a panic, “Take me away!” is quickly spoken, as if everything depends on getting away from this web of confusion we are falling into. “Take me away” also doubles-back to the idea that we’d like an alternative pathway to our existence and are turning to a dealer, Burial, who’s music is providing this experience.

“Come Down To Us” begins with that same somber tone and its clear we still haven’t gotten out of the darkness. As if crying and in desperation, we beg a stranger, “Excuse me, I’m lost…” and upon this simple declaration, a new wave of calm enters the soundscape. Finally, the darkness is leaving and we are confronting the truth: we are simply lost and need some direction. As simple as this is, it’s a hard thing to admit — especially if you have no idea you are lost. “Who are you? Why don’t you come to me?” is the response we here; the offer.

The music transitions into an extremely profound, spiritual, introspective suite of sound. It almost takes on a vibe of ancient memories past and this is very intentional — we are finally realizing direction. As the realizations soar and build, we are finally approaching peace and true serenity. “Here we are!” “Up here, at night” — remember the overlook from “Rival Dealer” — this overlook symbolizes the internal clarity one feels when they discover themselves.

As if pouring out like tears, the realizations start flowing: “I’m tied down in the dark.. in my mind…” To this, the music responds, begging, “Baby, come on. Come on!” We are so close to who we are — but we are not there yet, and the music keeps shifting back between elevation and contemplative vibes, much like an oscillating thought that has yet to be fully-formed. Everything depends on this — everything in your life has led to this moment of truth: “I know you want to trust in you” — sometimes, you need someone (or something) outside of yourself to act as a mirror to your true desire. This mirror sees you better than you see yourself: “I know you want to… go in; go in.”

As if we are still uncertain, there is a reminder “Tonight, do you feel alive?” : Aren’t you feeling this energy all around and within you? “Tonight you feel alive for me is a key detail, because it is for this alternative perspective we have discovered, one where we are finally able both ourselves and another. The phrase “Come down to us” plays once more. The music drops out again as alien sounds of noise and abduction blare through the speakers — and then, silence:

“Don’t be afraid to step into the unknown. Become one. Don’t; don’t; don’t be afraid”

Extremely intensive, abrasive electronic sounds play for a brief instant as if one is on the absolute edge before stepping over. The ecstasy returns after, as if we have finally surrendered: “This is the moment you see who you are.

“Let yourself go.”

“Don’t be afraid.”

If you’ve been on this journey from the start, you may be move to tears with how deeply this is resonating with your inner-spirit. You’ve made the decision “to trust.” You are coming down to the rest of us. You are joining the world: “I’m going; I’m going…”

And as if there was never a single-doubt in your mind and to soundtrack the bravery of your self-discovery; of all the walls you had to break through; of all the fear you had to shed, the music transitions into heavenly-levels of positive feedback and the vocal samples repeat over and over “You are a star.” Specifically: “You are a star to me” (emphasizing this in small feat you are undertaking, to have this in your mind with every step) “Angel… you are a star: there’s no one quite like you.” More than just a poster-slogan, the point is you are the only one who can shape what it is you truly want out of life.

The rival dealer emphasizes “You are not alone” at this point and that “What you don’t do, what you never do… is give up.” Love is “coming down to you,” as are you to your own, true self. The vocal samples mention stumbling, but knowing a love is out there “somewhere” but the first step was to at least come down to its level in the first place. The entire experience ends with an extensive speech which reflects the very nature of why this Rival Dealer’s dealt experience is so important, for it provides a model and a rival for those for whom are feeling unaccepted and lost in this world:

“Without examples, without models
I began to believe voices in my head
That I was a, a freak, that I am broken
That there is something wrong with me
That I will never be lovable”

This statement can act on every level, but just to be specific, continues to reflect the specificity of their literal experience:

“Years later I find the courage to admit that I am transgender… and that this does not mean that I am unlovable.”

There are many kinds of rooms one may find themselves barred entrance to, but knowing someone else is actually finding their way into one is extremely encouraging. Especially rooms that one did not even know existed: “So if this world that we imagine, in this room, might be used to gain access to other rooms… to other worlds, previously unimaginable…” Burial has presented a musical stepping-stone to encourage personal growth and discovery with relentless affirmation. The suite ends with “Who are you? You should come to me.”

Wherever we are, we must take the first step.

Lyrical Analysis: “Poland” by Lil’ Yachty

Here is the official audio stream — the lyrics are below, after the audio:

I’ve been fiendin’

like I’m Kenan

Ridin’ around with a Kel-Tec (paranoid/aggressive/’ready for war’)

If you mean it,

baby girl, do you mean it?

I’ve been leanin’,

baby girl, I been leanin’

*hustling/rustling sounds*

Wock

Phone still ringin’

battlin’ all my demons

I’ve been fiendin’

baby girl, I’ve been fiendin’

Hope you love me

baby, I hope you mean it

I took the Wock to Poland

There are several layers that culminate in a deeper-than-you-think meaning to the main chorus. "Poland" does an excellent job creating the feeling of being “on edge” — from the beat; to the empathy of tripping-out with Yachty; to the fact that perhaps Boat has gotten so desperate he has to risk legality and continue his addiction internationally.

How do you get over love? How do you cope with a life of heartbreak? You start fiending; leaning; riding around with a Kel-Tec… the repetition of the leaning/fiending lines, while simply catchy, parallel the endless nature of true addiction. The song can also be taken as a jubilant celebration, but significant emphasis on uncertainty adds a darker layer.

Even without addiction, one can relate to the repetitive, cyclical nature of never quite "getting over" something. That it results in a solution that is so extreme — to take it beyond your home, across the world — implies how hard it is to shake demons ("phone" still ringing) and how they follow you where-ever you go.

The Prescience Of The Present

The path time has taken is ultimately the path existence has chosen as its own-way forward: the “choices” of its own unfolding time-line. As it is the one and only way forward, it is sacred and fact — this is the path time has taken.

This path is made from a seemingly-infinite amount of moving parts and mechanisms; all making their own choices (whether consciously or instinctual).

As human beings with conscious awareness, our minds easily question which direction our dreams, desires and internal truths take us. Irregardless the vast nature of existence and the passage of time throughout, each individual and every individual choice play impacting roles in time’s overall procession.

Time becomes a concrete formation of a series of directional choices. While the future is unknown, the past is cast in stone. This process occurs during the present and one’s present is a omnidirectional-sphere of choice and possibility. However, in the present, we are always in the midst of a cemented decision becoming the past in real-time.

Aforementioned and common knowledge: the future is a question. However, the choices, instincts and feelings which lead to whatever the future manifests into — these are very possible to embrace and align with.

For us day-to-day, this translates into an appreciation for the true quality of every moment. This appreciation creates a vision for the true scope of our present reality. Now, with lucidity, we are tuned into what is really around us and the true range of futures which exist in every instance.

Upon this achievement, one transcends passenger-like behavior to become the creator and curator of their vision: in the process, they become truly aligned with the present moment (which is far grander than the individual). When the future happens, one processes it as a continuation of their ever-present vibration rather than any sort of obstruction; Waves become something to ride rather than flee. Part of this is because there is an obtained-understanding for why the path of time forms how it does, regardless direction.

It is quite a contrast when obtaining an embraced empathy of the present moment ultimately tunes one into the frequency of existence: feeling those feelings which drive the macro-collective-future; feeling a sense of direction for WHY the present is headed rather than WHERE the present is headed. Whether on a path in the woods or through the window of the present-moment, a sense-of-direction allows the same prescience.

Even beyond technical feats of conscious awareness, the most beautiful and lovely aspect of all-this is how time is a truth. The past is etched in stone and our futures arrive in the form of a very-real present moment. Embracing this present to-a-point of embracing every possibility the future may bring is filled with genuine love and harmony. In aligning with the truth of the present moment, we are aligning with truth as a concept. We are becoming one-with that which is real and in-front-of-us: this epiphany in-truth is an alignment to a higher power.

The Light Of Love

The light of love shines upon darkness and instead reveals hidden loves concealed away.

(Instead of being surrounded by darkness, the darkness parts way to reveal what has been there all along — love.)

Lyrical Analysis: “Train Food” by XXXTentacion

The lyrics can be found here.  Here is the official audio stream:

“Train getting closer, you still surprised that he battered you”

What used to be your resilience can shift surprisingly-quick. It is a shock-to-the-system when your hope leaves you and the thought of giving-up starts its take-over, approaching faster and faster.

Through catharsis, we can begin to heal.

Lyrical Analysis: “Accordion” by Madvillain (Doom + Madlib)

The lyrics can be found here.  Here is the official music video:

Daniel Dumile channels various traits of his personality into several characters.  One character, Viktor Vaughn, embraces a youthful, ambitious side of Dumile.  Another, King Geedorah, represents a colossal alien who commentates on humanity from an objective view-point.  On 2004’s Madvillainy LP, Dumile teamed with Madlib to create a character known to many as “Madvillain” (also referred to as “The Villain”/”Villain” on the recording), and it is in this character why so many have flocked to Dumile’s provocative flow.

In the opening statement of Madvillainy, “Accordion”, we have a chance to meet Madvillain — or at least, we hear a testament to his greatness.  What differentiates Dumile’s braggadocio from his contemporaries is in the nature of said testimony.  The opening narration, “Living off borrowed time the clock tick faster” is entirely detached from the rest of the verse.  The line vaguely contemplates upon the notion of time before sparking inspiration from an observer of said narration.  This is the masked man who tells the tales of the legendary Madvillain — MF DOOM.

Think of MF DOOM, in the context of “Accordion”, as a street poet or preacher upon a soapbox, dazzling the audience with hyperbole-ridden tales of a legend (Madvillain) whom is not even physically present (and indeed, artistically, Dumile literally hides “Madvillain” behind MF DOOM’s mask).  The very next line which follows the opening narration is spoken matter-of-factly, responding to the omniscient narration, as if one was reading a newspaper and remarking indifferently: “that’ll be the hour they knock the sick blaster“.

This line, as soon seen, starts a stream-of-consciousness description of Madvillain as a character.  The reason why this lyricism inspires such originality and thought within the listener is because Daniel Dumile is not the one boasting about Madvillain (at least, directly).  Instead, what Dumile does is create a third-person narrative, using what amounts to a street preacher (MF DOOM) to describe a main character (Madvillain) which personifies certain elements of a real personality (Daniel Dumile).

While “Accordion” is riddled with interpretive poetry, arguably four of the strongest lines are found in the following verse:

Keep your glory gold and glitter
For half, half of his n***** will take him out the picture
The other half is rich and it don’t mean s***-a
Villain a mixture of both with a twist of liquor

In these four lines, Dumile, as MF DOOM, describes Madvillain as someone who is unaffected by promises of monetary gain and illusionary, ‘glittering’ successes.  In the second and third lines, we learn of his rationality for this mindset.  While these lines strike hard just for the discussed content, the final line pulls together the reason why the audience is so captivated by “Accordion”.  “Villain a mixture of both…” is self-loathing and self-inspiring all at once, admitting that Madvillain, as a character (and thus, part of Daniel Dumile), embraces both extremes — “with a twist of liquor”.

While “MF DOOM” is telling of the “Madvillain” character/legend, the fourth line (“Villain a mixture…“) carries the same sort of off-handedness which follows up “Living off borrowed time…” — the opening line of the song.  This alludes a light-hearted glimpse into the actual character of “MF DOOM” (the street-corner poet/preacher), indirectly suggesting the characters within the world of “Madvillainy” see themselves as Madvillain.  Therefore, they view him in a heroic light, and not with the same villainous bent as most of the populous.

See Genius’ entry on “Accordion” for a line-by-line interpretation.

Photography: All Seasons

Interpretations of the “Monolith” (2001: A Space Odyssey)

The marbled monolith represented exactly what it was — a massive slab of obviousness.  It was something that could not be ignored if one was consciously present within the room.  However, it represented something more.  It hypothetically put forward how we evolved from apes to humans, as despite it being so obvious, one does have to be consciously aware to detect a change in one’s environment — to detect a spontaneous black slab that appears out of nowhere.  What I think Kubrick may have been illustrating was how we transitioned from a lesser state of awareness and into something more.  The apes saw the world from a primal and survival-based intelligence level.  Then, one day, they saw something in a way which they could not describe.  It captivated them in a manner which superseded all that in the background.  The apes had their first intelligently conscious moment.  The black slab was so sudden and so out-of-nowhere, that there was no way to not perceive it with intense reactional response, elevating one’s self from a lower conscious level to ultimately realize human potential.  The apes realize that one can use objects as weapons and begin to interact with the world in an evolutionary manner.  Kubrick was describing the birth of conscious intelligent life.

Just as the apes, the bones-as-a-weapon realization and the rocky, wild and unconquered landscape acted as an allegory for where conscious awareness found itself, the ending “room” is the same.  We see a fully civilized, cultured man surrounded by a pleasant bright white light in an ordered and structured room.   Whereas before the sun was the only source of light, now the source is fluorescent and man-made.  The world in which the apes found themselves was completely out of their control and foreign, whereas the room the ‘futureman’ finds himself within is completely of his (in the species sense) own creation and understanding.

Just as before, this man sees a black slab appear out of nowhere.  He chases it around the room and finds himself getting older and older in the very process.  As with the apes (‘dawn of man’), the black slab represents something in which to call attention to and inspire evolutionary reaction.  However, as a being already evolved, it is perplexing to understand its context in this room.  The man is chasing the meaning to his own human life, representing the human species as a whole.  His drive and inspiration is personified as a cold, impersonal metallic slab.  The futureman is chasing this until he dies, but with every realization, he finds himself ending up at a goal, with no memory of how he got there.  His only memory is standing at his previous position, looking out at the end-goal.  He then finds himself at the end-goal, only to not have actually ended anything.  Ironically, he finds himself once again on the chase, immediately focusing on the end-goal, until his physical body runs out of life — the entire process fueled by the monolith.  Yet even on his deathbed, at the very last moment, with his very last ounce of strength, the futureman sees this black slab once more and MUST reach out to it.  He is determined despite knowing that there’s no way he can possibly do such a thing, as he is confined to his bed and limited by his old age.  However, he must reach the end-goal and is always searching for an answer that simply cannot be reached.

This man represents what we are as a human species at the present moment — 1% away from complete control but somehow we still find ourselves unable to reach this remaining percentage.  Kubrick’s only explanation is indirect, as he eventually zooms into the black slab and transitions into space.  We live on earth and we look at space, a massive beautiful black slab, and it drives us.  Space isn’t the actual root drive of humanity; it just represents something that makes us realize our own subjectivity and scale.  It represents something so massive and so incomprehensible — its existence is a symbol for human ambition.  Like the black slab, space is unexplainable, yet we must understand and decode its mystery.  As illustrated in the final room, though, we see how the pursuit will kill us.  It is only in our last moment in which we will ever feel complete, as death is the only end-goal that can be reached with complete satisfaction.  Upon death, we go once again back into the chaotic world which we so often, in life, pretended did not exist.  We are so afraid of the unknown, that just to live we have to build white rooms of cutting edge architecture to hide us from the scary black space.  This space, like the monolith, represents the majority of existence which we do not have wrapped around our finger.  We hide from chaos and disorder, but it always exists.  Death exists, space exists and everything beyond our perspective exists and it is out of our control.  As the apes did in the beginning of the film, we go insane at these realizations — just as the futureman drove himself to death in pursuit of an explanation for what is inherently unexplainable and chaotic.  All perceived order is nothing but one flower in a field of trillions of weeds which are slowly creeping in on our shell of artificial order.

An Alternative Interpretation

The final scene could also be viewed as Kubrick’s interpretation of death, post-existence and post-humanity.  The starchild symbolizes the final peaceful understanding felt just before passing after a lifetime of seemingly futile pursuit.  The last scene shows this starchild looking over the earth and it is here where the individual starchild transitions into a metaphor for the human species.  We see the starchild looking over the earth in a contemplative and honorable manner.  If you could replace the earth with “a lifetime of personal memories” and the starchild with “someone passing away”, the intention would be exactly the same.  Instead, the final scene depicts the personification of the perfect human looking back upon the earth and thinking upon how far man has come.  In this state, one can only observe in reserved tranquility rather than act.  For a perfect, fully-realized species, this is the ultimate heaven — to look back on the source of our life, the earth, and marvel at how far we have come.  In this light, the ending is a love letter for the human species of the future.  We see a peaceful, beautiful, golden and intelligent fetus rather than something wrought with flaws.  Despite the journey, despite the chaos that once so defined humanity and the desire to understand everything, we float in peace at the finish line with nothing to do but bask in the odyssey of our achievement.

Photography: Moss

Lyrical Analysis: “Bizness” by Tune-Yards

The lyrics are found here.  Here is the official music video:

“Don’t take my life away / Don’t take my life away”

The manner in which she sings this, rapidly and frantic, suggests that this song may work best if you take the lyrics on a literal level before analyzing interpretatively.  In the main chorus of the song, it sounds as if Garbus is describing a mugging.  From the opening line (“What’s the business?“) asking just what the hell is happening, to the realization that the mugger is moving closer (“From a distance“) finally to the attempt to try to empathize with her perpetrator (“I’m a victim!” / “I’m addicted!“) It all paints a very visual picture.  The intensity of this image obvious increases with every repeated plea (“Don’t take my life away!“).

WhoKill as an album seems to deal with similar subject matter upon the surface, and then on a deeper level one can interpret these things to act as metaphors for more intimate personal issues and insecurities expressed in song.  If you look at the opening verse in this same “Mugger” mindset, you can see how well it fits with just about every line.  The opening, in particular, makes much more sense on a surface level when analyzed from this perspective:

“If I represent the one that did this to you / Then can away the part that represents the thing that scarred you”

It seems to be an extended plea intended to be said to the mugger, only to be mentally pondered.  Muggers obviously don’t personalize or discriminate in terms of the individual; though if they are robbing you chances are you have a look of wealth or content.  She rationalizes, “If you are mugging me because I look like everything you aren’t and desire to be (in terms of wealth), then you need to get over whatever it is that personally traumatized you.”  Such a powerful, opening line.  Obviously, we are starting to see the deeper intentions of the song.

Immediately after this declaration of “Fix yourself before you hurt me”, she declares (“Get up / Stand up / Get on it!“) both the listener and herself to defend against the situation as to change the outcome (“I am no longer who you thought this one would be“).  A victim can be mugged, but a victim in self-defense is not such an easy target.

After this confidence boosting declaration, it’s revealed that she (as a victim) still ends up running into this mugger once more (“We end up around the mountain that I climb to lose you“) and despite how bold she was just moments before, meeting this mugger causes her to enter a state of shock (“Ask me, Tell me / but all my wisdom departed“).  Finally we enter in the main chorus, the confrontation, where all she can ask is “What the hell is going on / How did I get here / Don’t take my life away / I’m just like you!”

This entire time we have seen how simply the song reads in a literal manner, but it’s during the third verse where we start to realize that the song works much more beautifully on a symbolic level.  Regardless, finishing up the mugger theme, the victim in the song tries one final plea.  She states how “I’ll bleed if you ask me”, and we see how the mugger’s response is a simple “No” (“That’s when he said no“) before we enter back into the confrontational chorus once more.  I’d like to point out that the song ends asking the question “What’s the business?” repeatedly, as if Garbus is restating her disbelief of the entire situation.

Obviously, you can replace the whole Mugger / Victim theme with many concepts and interpretations, but what will remain consistent is the general narrative between the two parties.  If you go for the relationship-route, the song becomes a symbolic tale of frustration between two would-be lovers.  I see it as someone meeting someone who has been hurt in a prior relationship, so badly, that they see all of that heartbreak in every new person they meet, including the protagonist of the song.

This is very similar in subject matter to the song “Abducted” by Cults (I analyzed this here), the major difference is that Garbus is attempting a solution to the problem, whereas Cults focused on the sad cyclical nature of the whole thing.  The first verse then declares the protagonist of the song to be their own individual and not connected to any horrific past relationships.  The second verse reveals how the protagonist of the song does NOT enter into the relationship (“The mountain that I climb to lose you“), but ends up meeting this person again in life anyways (“We end up around the mountain“), this time demanding why things can’t work out (“Answer me this!“).  At the same time, there is a realization that no one wants to throw their time away with someone who is just going to hurt them (“Don’t take my life away“), so the protagonist is repeatedly asking in the chorus “What’s the business” — what hurt you before/are you ready for this/I don’t want to be hurt — before finally revealing she does fall in love (“I’m addicted yeah!“).

Writing this, I see a plethora of abstract and less direct ways (ex- an internal dialogue) of looking at this song from several perspectives, but the two general interpretations I’ve provided do indicate that the song is a song about frustration stemming from misunderstanding and miscommunication.  The protagonist attempts to overcome this (in whatever the medium is which the frustration is occurring, depending on personal interpretation), and in the end she finds herself addicted.  The real question, is to what?  To heartbreak?  To falling in love with those who are scarred?  The song’s brilliance lies in how many windows it can be seen through, and I hope my interpretation has provided some insight into whatever your personal interpretation of the song happens to be.