‘Green Aphrodisiac’
— Nix Thérèse
If we know anything about Corinne Bailey Rae, it’s that she’s a disciple of the slow build, so I wasn’t surprised that one of the longest songs of her career ended up being my favorite. The words of the chorus are strung over a long set of interchanging “ahhhh”s, as if we’re being welcomed in the breath and wonder of the natural space of which she sings. The lines that strike me the most are “just when I thought it was not to be / holiest of mysteries / it’s all green.” That moment of having anything you tended finally coming into fruition is a sacred moment. Greenness here embodies the love and sacrifice that’s been poured in to allow the lushness to take hold. Greenness is the return, so the song’s elongation helps us really traverse with her.
It’s fitting the visual isn’t completely swarmed with the color, rather it appears to balance out the rest of the landscape. I love that the space is left wide open, and for the most part, each object and person is singular and not touching unless it needs to. Consider how Corinne’s free-flowing hair, face, & shoulders work against the gold-dipped leaves & other hands, hovering just outside of them, but close enough that they must feel her breath & body heat. Or consider the veil slipping from her hands to uncover the shimmering sequins of her dress, barely missing them. Each moment of the almost-touch proves to be intimate. It also creates a juxtaposition of man-made luxury & the natural, but because each glimmer of skin and garb is soaked in natural light, the connection never feels flimsy.
The choreography also pulls us into relationship with nature by elevating the moments of her being in relationship with her body. She hugs herself, curls her hands towards her face & waist & sides, and reaches out into the space. In many of these moments, she becomes fully enveloped by the dancers’ arms & hands until she unlocks herself and then they pour outward. It provides us with a continual mirroring of bud to flower because we watch Corinne continually bloom and recede. The dancers’ ability to bend into new silhouettes, both alone and with each other, also returns us to plant life. How often do we find them building on each other until we untangle them and realize their singular beauty? Come to this space if you’re interested in the catch, the tangle, the unfurl.