The year's first Burial release, Kindred, was his "biggest" yet—the tracks were longer than ever before, beefier, and packed an emotional wallop that was impressive even by his standards. He continues down the "epic" path apace, except where "Kindred" and "Loner" had cinematic builds, every time these two new tracks choose a path, they suddenly fall apart. "Truant"'s stirring chord progressions, roiling basslines and intricate vocal manipulation are a recipe for a Burial masterstroke, yet none of these things actually occur simultaneously. The theatrical motifs are separated by gulfs of percussive tumbles, the vocals dragged over a frayed canvas and climax is cruelly snuffed out.
The 14-minute "Rough Sleeper" is much the same, but the track's midsection—wavering and tentative—has one of Bevan's most beautiful moments. As triumphant, otherworldly bells fly in from above, the rare note of celebration momentarily renders everything clear. The entire EP has built up to this moment, and it's heart-wrenching in an entirely different way than the rest of the Burial catalogue.
Of course, all that majesty fades out into licks of static, before "Rough Sleeper" pulls itself together with some 2006-style roughshod wheeling. Listeners are left in the lurch as they try to piece together the past 26 minutes. Truant is a rather audacious move for an artist who could have easily relied on the same formula for years to come and still struck gold.