One of the biggest hurdles for my top twenty of 2006 and the subsequent 2CD mixes (which are done, by the way—I’ll post track listings and pictures soon) was the leak of the new Eluvium record, Copia. I’d never listened to Eluvium, but since this particular record leaked at the same time as the new Explosions in the Sky (All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone), I grabbed it and found that it far surpassed the EITS album. Consequently I tracked down all of the other Eluvium releases and found myself drawn to those records more than many of my candidates for year-end honors.

Eluvium, a one-man project from Matthew Cooper, started out closer to the ambient branch of post-rock—muted instrumentation gliding into carefully crafted waves (listen to from 2003’s Lambent Material and “New Animals from Air” from 2005’s Talk Amongst the Trees) and occasionally swelling into feedback. But Eluvium’s 2004 release An Accidental Memory in the Case of Death chose a much different course, opting for a solo performance of neoclassical piano suites instead of layers of studio trickery. These songs, particularly the title track and “The Well-Meaning Professor,” do an excellent job of being playful with recurring themes, heightening the tension when necessary, and letting the compositions breathe. I typically don’t listen to much classical music, but when I do it’s quite minimal (Arvo Pärt’s Alina, for example), so An Accidental Memory is actually a bit busier than usual. After Talk Among the Trees and a solid, if unspectacular 2006 EP, When I Live by the Garden and the Sea (highlighted by “I Will Not Forget that I Have Forgotten”), Copia fulfills the promise of An Accidental Memory’s neoclassical designs with fuller arrangements, populated by traditionally classical instrumentation (strings, brass), not the occasional shoegaze-derived guitar marking earlier releases. When the absolute grace of the brass opener “Amreik” leads into the intertwined layers of the album’s epic, “Indoor Swimming at the Space Station,” it’s hard not to imagine spending the full hour with Copia. “Prelude for Time Feelers” encapsulates the album’s modes and strengths—piano figures lead into gradually accumulating layers of instrumentation, building subtle crescendos and then whisking such drama away. The literal fireworks punctuating “Repose in Blue” close the album, contrasting with the serene framework set below.

Copia has even seeped into times and situations I traditionally devote for up-tempo rock music, namely walking and driving around Boston. “Indoor Swimming at the Space Station” could play continuously underneath my daily activities with no resistance.

Copia officially comes out February 20, but Temporary Residence has hinted about a forthcoming vinyl release, so I’m going to put off pre-ordering or purchasing the CD. It seems less likely that the other Eluvium albums will be released on vinyl anytime soon, so I figure I’m safe getting those on CD. Right?