1:49 a.m.
I'm tired. Not tired enough to pass out, but tired enough to browse the internet and listen to music. So I put on Eluvium's Talk Amongst the Trees. Perfect. The first song, "New Animals from the Air," whispers from my speakers. As if the effects of my Sleepy Time Tea weren't enough, I can feel my subconscious beckoning for rest. Instead of that nonsense, I'll listen to the following eight songs and give a brief overview of how things come to be.
1:59 a.m.
I imagine this is what Brian Eno's ambient projects would've sounded like if they were created today. Although they aren't as sparse as what Eno melded, they are instead fuller, brimming with fuzzy melodies, lush soundscapes and twinkling electronic spliffs. It's as if the other bands on Temporary Residence (Mono, Explosions in the Sky) and Constellation (Godspeed You Black Emperor) didn't care about the crescendo, but instead just wallow in shallow waters. Volumes do rise, but the instrumentation never gets loud. So if you like beauty but don't want to reckon with the rock, we got you covered.
2:04 a.m.
At this point I realize this review might look like it was inspired by the newest issue of Vice, but that's purely coincidence. By the time I realize that, all fifty-eight seconds of "Area 41" are over. Considering the longest song is about seventeen minutes long, we'll mark this as a segue.
2:05 a.m.
I can't help but notice this would the most perfect soundtrack for a silent film. Broad shots, crisp colors or maybe even black and white. Gorgeous without hitting anybody over the head with cheesy melodramatics. As subtle as each recording track is, if any were removed, the end product would sound hollow. It's just perfect.
2:11 a.m.
As beautiful and full as Talk Amongst the Trees is, it's a fine departure from the previous album, An Accidental Memory in the Case of Death, which sounded more like a twenty-six minute recording of someone playing piano. This black and white keyed journey into sparseness didn't offer the feelings offered in the previous thicker, Lambent Material. Now with Talk Amongst the Trees, Eluvium goes back towards the sounds of the first full length, Lambent Material. Thank you, Eluvium.
2:16 a.m.
I don't know whether this is insomnia or just a lust for swimming in the lush walls of warm sounds being softly pushed from the speakers. Maybe this is what My Bloody Valentine would've sounded like if they weren't so noisy. Fading in and out of consciousness while Eluvium's hum fades in and out. There's an intensity present that, like clouds, can't be grasped. Just fades in and out. Not like In-N-Out though, that's just some fine fast food. In and out like prairie dogging. Back and forth. In and out. Delay effects? Oh yeah. Drifting and marching. This is the kind of music angels of Heaven would listen to while descending upon the gates of Hell. Oh yeah.
2:33 a.m.
Visions are plaguing my head. I've never felt more holy. I know I do listen to evil music sometimes, but this song, "We Say Goodbye to Ourselves," counters all of that and some. This couch feels like a bed and these lights are no longer flickering. Goodnight.
2:35 a.m.
I'm asleep by the time "One" drifts in. And while I'm clawing at Z's, Eluvium continues an epic struggle against the busy maximal society of 2005. While most musicians are trying to find catchy guitar lines, brutal guitar riffs, memorable choruses, etcetera and etcetera, Matthew Cooper's Eluvium is just there. Eluvium will make you wish you're dreaming and dream of the best memories yet to come.
