Copia - Eluvium

Copia

Eluvium
Temporary Residence Records.

SCQ Rating: 64%

I’ve spent the entirety of ‘Indoor Swimming at the Space Station’ trying to find an opening sentence for reviewing Copia, Eluvium’s (aka Matthew Cooper’s) latest instrumental offering. For the record, that’s a ten minute swim and so far, this is the best I’ve got. I’m laying all my critical shortcomings on the table because, to be blunt, this record doesn’t call for verbose reactions. I could explain how ‘Seeing You Off the Edges’, like many of Copia’s songs, is a blur of treated keyboard and strings that are comforting despite their intense downheartedness, but that could describe most songs from Talk Amongst the Trees as well. Or, I can discuss how Cooper has abandoned much of that previous album’s electronic production in favour of traditional instruments, but the compositions are largely unchanged. Truly, these lonely recordings are expertly constructed to relax their listener, only occasionally providing a moment’s silence for he or she to announce: “It’s beautiful”.

The melancholy is beautiful, yes, but it’s also domineering; the emotional focus of ‘Ostinato’ or ‘Reciting the Airships’ is so restrictive that it rivals soundtrack-status for long-winded dramas. Much of this critique can be aimed at Cooper’s piano-led numbers – ‘Prelude for Time Feelers’ and ‘Radio Ballet’ are the clearest examples – which are lovely but entirely indistinctive, the kind of faux-classical mush you hear your dentist’s secretary playing while you sit in the waiting room. I appreciate a good mood piece, but the repetition and suffocating sorrow ensures that Copia will only be played when you need a break from the records you’re obsessed with.

My issue is obviously with the compositions more than their graceful execution, and thankfully Cooper offers a few fully developed songs where its mood depends on the listener’s perspective. Beyond ‘Requiem on Frankfort Ave.’ and ‘Hymn #1’ (two of the shortest songs here, sadly), ‘Amreik’ is the real deal, sharply arranged and balancing the tightrope over disappointment and hope. Like its cover suggests, Copia is at its best when we can see the full picture, the sky among the mountains.

Wow, maybe this record does deserve some discourse.