Evocations of past albums litter this new EP. Plangent piano sonatas filled one album, alchemic wisps of water in air another, and submarine drones a third. When I Live by the Garden is not simply an omnibus compilation of past works, but rather a recombination of efforts showing how past works were not simply stand-alone products but all part of a larger concept.
These songs don’t feel so much like a sampler as they do a synthesis.“I Will Not Forget That I Have Forgotten” recalls 2004’s An Accidental Memory in the Case of Death because of its somber keyboard theme, but it is more complexly layered with swells of controlled, fuzzy drones and frequency manipulations. The piano sounds cut through the atmosphere of static and demand to be the central conceit, but there is much more going on. Those who have seen Eluvium play live, will be reminded of what Cooper’s performances sound like. When encountered with the sonic interplay of drones versus keyboard, I tend to pay more attention to the keyboard part. It is usually more accessible, easier to hang on to and understand. But with this song, I notice that I am more enraptured by the drone and static. The melancholy of the piano drops down and instead my attention goes to the limitless possibility of everything surrounding the keyboard. Only then does the song begin to feel dynamic.
“As I Drift Off” has an effect antagonistic to its title. It begins with a monologue sample which is clearly Tom Hanks but if you drift off too much, you’ll noticeably have a difficult time placing it as a sample from The ‘Burbs. It took me three listens of very alert, non-drowsy manipulation of both the song and my filmic memory. Instead of having a narcotic effect, the sample simply conjures the confused faces of Bruce Dern and the erstwhile Rick Ducomumm (the supporting actor’s supporting actor) and the humor of cannibalism. It takes the actual song to begin the drift and when Cooper’s narcosis has you in its grips, there is no release until the end of the album. “As I Drift Off” could be an outtake from 2003’s Lambent Material. The tell-tale mark is the crescendo feedback, much harsher than sounds from later albums. The harshness is not abrasive, but it does pack a punch and gives the feeling that only an inflated diaphragm con contain. In contrast, “All the Sails” has a more ethereal grain and shares all the attributes of something from 2005’s Talk Amongst the Trees. The disparity between the two songs is invigorating and describes well the energy which courses through all of Cooper’s work.
Although I (and others) might use words associated with sleep when discussing Eluvium, there is nothing lazy, boring, or enervated about this music. Rather, it is electric. The eponymous last song is a measured and disciplined approach to Cooper’s envisioned oceanside plot. We have wandered through the garden already and now we stand on the shore, staring out as sounds modulate up and down, chimes enter and depart, and the wine-dark sea ripples in synchronicity with the music. All the airiness, the muted aquatic rumblings, and the stark ivory (well, plastic, I suppose) depressions are gone. What is left is the synthetic future-sound of what lies ahead.
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