Eluvium, residual deposits of soil, dust, and rock particles produced by the action of the wind. But Eluvium also is Matthew Cooper’s project. Wait, there’s no need for the “but”. This name perfectly suits his last album, Copia. Eluvium produces a unique kind of ambient classical music. You’ll hear no guitars, drums or vocals there. Copia is but violins, strings, horns, organ and piano.
Some songs are purely atmospheric drone experiments, while others are synth led. My personal favourites are “Prelude For Time Feelers” and “Radio Ballet”, where the use of piano is simply perfect. The melodies are deep, elegant and attractive, and remind me of some of Tenhi’s work.
The key element in Copia is the music’s ambiguity. It is both joyful and sad, calm and tense. Now what about the name perfectly fitting to the music? Eluvium’s music just isn’t like other music. It is fundamentally scenic, and to a much further extent than post-rock bands such as Mono or Explosions In The Sky. This soundscaping combined with the underlying ambiguity is what makes Copia an exceptional album. It seems to depict a world after man, without the burden, but still feeling his absence. The landscape is both pure and desolate. Are the seagulls happy to be free, or are they shrieking out of despair? Are the deep sounds joyful explosions in the sky, or the last explosions before the world ends? The tracks’ titles serve this ambiguity too, and the album’s cover art suits the ambiguous theme of the world without man, portraying a humanoid figure on the top of a hill, and surrounded by blank, expressionless rabbits.
