Yet another exponent of Baltimore’s fertile experimental scene, Jonathan Badger is a guitarist and composer blending elements of electronic music, gestures from the post-rock genre, and the subtle influence of Robert Fripp into a surprisingly fresh sound. His latest album Verse has been available on LP/CD/digital via Cuneiform Records since last September, and this Saturday January 24th he appears at the Velvet Lounge in Washington, DC on a bill with Anthony Pirog and Luke Stewart.
Like many of his peers in the experimental field, Jonathan Badger’s profile is small, though his list of achievements borders on overload. For starters, he was commissioned to write a ballet and an opera while a student at the University of South Carolina. He received his BS and subsequently earned a PhD in political philosophy from Fordham, studied music at Duke and then obtained a multidisciplinary master’s degree from North Carolina State, where he composed a suite for piano quintet with soprano and computer setting texts from Kant, Nietzsche, and the Book of Job to music.
Please add teaching music and philosophy at Annapolis, MD’s St. John’s College, having his book Sophocles and the Politics of Tragedy: Cities and Transcendence published by Routledge Press in 2012, and releasing a series of albums, two studio: ‘06’s Metasonic, ‘10’s Unsung Stories from Lilly’s Days as a Solar Astronaut, and two live: ‘07’s Taps and ‘10’s Summer Electra.
Oh, and there was seven years of study in Robert Fripp’s Guitar Craft school. Seriously, the guy’s been busy, and Verse is but the newest notch on his belt. It’s his first for the Silver Spring, MD-based Cuneiform label, and the LP solidly documents Badger’s continued development; all of the prior releases were truly solo affairs, but for this one he’s enlisted a bunch of help.
Along with Badger on electric and acoustic guitars, banjo, piano, computer, and percussion, there’s Ruby Fulton on flugelhorn, Patrick McMinn on trumpet, Tiffany Defoe on tenor and baritone sax, Badger’s advanced students Michael Gates on violin, Sasha Keen on cello, and sisters Alexandra and Victoria Wick on soprano vocals, and on one track the Human Beatboxing talents of Shodekeh.
The study of Guitar Craft might cause some to lump Verse into a decidedly Fripp-like bag, but as fans of Badger’s previous work already know his actuality is far less easily pegged than a hair-trigger knee may jerkily assume. In fact, opener “St Lucy’s Day” got me immediately to thinking of fellow Charm City resident Dustin Wong, an estimable string-manipulator also possessive of an adroit Fripp-streak (and who just happens to get thanked on Verse’s back cover).
If understatedly reminiscent of Evening Star (by this late date perhaps a lazy comparison) the precision in “St. Lucy’s Day” sparks visions of post-rock/math-rock, though it does bear mentioning those styles rarely attain the non-precious prettiness found here. And near the end, an influx of electronics surges to eventually overwhelm the track.
It leads to greater meticulousness in “Dotter,” guitar motifs initially needling and then layered as the piece craftily employs the Wick sisters’ voices (at least I think it’s them) and even more so computerization; herein and elsewhere on Verse Badger utilizes a MAX/MSP system to trigger a cache of samples from a variety of instruments, and in this instance it delivers a forceful and percussive anchor. The cut ends with a brief bit of electronic collage.
“It came down from the night and stood on the porch until I invited it in for tea” is as short in duration as its title is long, much of it dominated by Badger’s thunderous piano (and a little banjo strumming) as the segment explores noisier and more abstract regions again bordering on collage. However, improvisation and randomness/chance play a minuscule part in the overall strategy.
Both Aphex Twin and Squarepusher are reference points in Cuneiform’s ample promo materials, and “The Bear” combines their influence with that banjo and what seems to be hand-drums to arrive at something fleetingly comparable to Glitch-Americana; it solidifies Verse’s uniqueness as the lengthier “Nimbus” enhances it further.
Heard casually, “Nimbus” kinda resonates as esoteric indie rock, but upon attentive listening the structural depth is very impressive; ideas surface and just as rapidly disappear as certain aspects recur to form patterns, and the emergence of a man’s voice (presumably Badger’s, though neither he nor any male is credited with vocals) uttering lyrics is completely unexpected.
Actually, I feel like a total spoiler for bringing it up so please forget I said anything. Side one’s closer “The Valley of the Shadow” begins in abstract-electronic territory to become increasingly rhythmic, and it demands pointing out that Shodekeh’s contribution avoids potential mishandling, his beatboxing registering as a welcome addition rather than a trite subtraction to Verse’s qualitative sum.
“Limbec” sets a contrasting tone for side two, which offers longer tracks (two over six minutes, nothing under three), the opener initiating with fairly conventional melodic picking only to grow progressively rigorous, particularly in its integration of saxophone. “Bouge,” the first in what Badger has described as a “ponderous threnody,” is built around piano, though in the music surrounding it, if occasionally unusual in nature, is quite digestible.
Indeed, while experimental in character Verse is largely not formidable. Piano is also center-stage at the top of “Erbarmen,” guitar stepping to the fore shortly thereafter, the cut reaching its apex in the subsequent post-rockish interaction. It’s a comfortable sound, the composer and his associates obviously wielding much skill as they evade falling victim to flash.
In lieu of gratuitous displays of ego, a legitimate desire to shape a robust sonic spectrum is apparent; “Erbarmen” ends as it starts, with the rumbling of low keyboard notes. And Badger remains at the bench for the contemplative finale “Sickle’s Compass Come,” his playing complimented by vibrant horns and electro-undercurrents.
Given the background essayed up top, the level of literature’s impact here is really no shocker. “St. Lucy’s Day” and “Limbec” commence their respective sides with references to John Donne’s poem “A Nocturnal upon Saint Lucy’s Day,” “The Valley of the Shadow” comes from the Book of Psalms, “Erbarmen” derives from the “St. Matthew Passion” of J. S. Bach, and “Sickle’s Compass Come” is taken from Shakespeare’s “Sonnet 116.”
But if not difficult, the contents of Verse are far from academically dry, and to the contrary should provide a highly engaging experience from the stage of the Velvet Lounge. Those with piqued interest might consider dropping by.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
