Verdigris is a bluish-green patina that builds on copper, bronze and glass; until recently, it was also a popular pigment. One can see suggestions of the varied hues on the colorful cover of Verdigris and in Morgan Beringer’s video for “Collapsing in Feedback,” whose frames pulse and flow along with the music. As the images are layered with increasing intensity, they produce parallels between sight and sound; and while the original images are buried, new colors and vibrancies develop. Static charges develop from right to left, the reverse of a heart monitor. These modern layers – what one might consider intrusions – prove even more alluring than the originals.
On the surface, Verdigris is an industrial-strength dance album, and a very good one at that. The blasts of “Sawtooth” will raise the energy of any club that plays it. But this is also a collection of hidden sources, the most distinctive being medieval choral samples. Given this information, one starts to listen for voices, and is thwarted. Just as verdigris develops through a process of oxidization, these sources have been “passed through an arsenal of compressors and saturators to build layers of grit and grime” ~ and the grit and grime has its own unstable beauty.
How does one convey spirituality in the digital age? If the old ways seem staid, they still form the foundation of the new ways. Medieval choirs could never have imagined that one day their voices might be processed and used as texture; yet some residual, subliminal power may still remain. A spiritual power is accumulated and dispersed while dancing as the ineffable holy is translated into movement. The yearning, high-pitched synths of “Petroglyphs” act as the soprano section, seeking a higher connection. The density of the finale mirrors the choir in full force.
In “Ecology of Fear,” a slower tempo exposes rushes of static and hints of organ. The album’s most contemplative track, it still refuses to fade into the ether; instead, the ether becomes an instrument. Finally in “Chorale” one begins to hear those ancient singers, albeit only in snippets and loops; the ears have been primed by the organ tones. Chatwin closes the album with “Elegy For All We Lost,” but the elegy is tempered by the album’s theme; for all we have lost, we have gained something as well. (Richard Allen)
a closer listen 