Bad Theology

Bad Theology is a work for alto saxophone and piano composed by Michael. E Anderson.

Whether it’s hot and sizzling or languid and consuming, musical inspiration usually comes from some sort of prolonged focus. It might be a person, the memory of a place in time, or perhaps another great piece.

I met Michael Anderson in 2008 at the University of Missouri while we were studying music together. I had the Romanticism of Glazunov in my ears coupled with the complex and brooding vocabulary of John Anthony Lennon and even some of the polytonality of Charles Ives. It was all packaged into the sound and fury of Leo Saguiguit’s saxophone studio, a group of mostly country kids striving to make fine art music.

Ives once commented that he didn’t want his children to go hungry just because he wanted to compose music. His career as an insurance salesman solved that problem and kept him close to people, which helped make him feel more human. At the time I asked Anderson to consider writing me a piece, I found myself hooked on listening to Ives’s Sonata No. 3 for Violin and Piano. The violin starts out with this mournful version of the hymn “I Need Thee Every Hour.” I knew Michael had to hear it, and this music served as the point of departure for the attitude I wanted to bring to this piece.

To suggest that the music of Anderson resembles Ives would be a mistake. Anderson’s works stand as veritable compositions in their own right. They somehow appear out of the Bible Belt, decisive and drawn from a host of inspirations like neoclassical Igor Stravinsky (Jaunt) and the shifting soundscapes of Samuel Barber (Wisdom’s Voice). Bad Theology is an indictment of the pre-fabricated solutions pilfered by preachers and politicians in a rapidly changing world. The answers that worked yesterday are no longer enough; people require new ways by which to make their voices heard amidst a digital cacophony of cat videos and hipster selfies.

The music of Bad Theology is jarring in some places; it is at once angry and resolute, vicious, yet pleading. There are moments that seem as if a piano is falling out of the sky onto people picnicking in the middle of a sunny park (1:00). At other points, there is a voice of longing and a desire for reconciliation with some unseen force (8:22). Whatever the mental imagery invoked, Anderson succeeds by bringing a blend of emotions and challenges to perceive music in a new and deeper way.