Truth be told, Benjamin Verdoes never set out to write, let alone record, a solo album. Originally written for an audience of one, his girlfriend Ifrah, these particular works were – no, are – so intensely personal that showing them to anyone but a few select friends, was, as Verdoes puts it, “the scariest thing I’ve ever thought of.” The 11 gifts on The Evil Eye are autobiographical in a way that Verdoes’ previous works have not been, proving a new challenge to the veteran songwriter.  

“I had generally written about characters going through experiences similar to what I had seen or gone through,” says the songwriter. “In a way that kept me safe…distant. The characters were having all the feelings so I didn’t have to deal with what I was dealing with at the time. This time, with the way it came to exist…there was no way I was going to be able to distance myself from it, nor do I want to.” His friends and fellow musicians urged him to share the songs, and finally he relented.

The result is a photo album of sorts: snapshots of periods in the life of Benjamin Verdoes. Songs like “Telling the Truth”, “Two Shadows” and “Under the Layers” that tell the tale of the journey of the proverbial downward spiral, propelled deeper by the end of a marriage, the death of a parent, and the commitment to raise an adopted brother. The welcome counterpoints to their darkness are the soaring highs of the title track, “Evil Eye”, “The Future is a Bandit”, “If the World Ignites” and “Forest of Your Mind”, all sonic sunshine – not only painting a lyrical portrait of a man in love, but doing so with the perfect instrumentation: be it a solid bass-driven groove, loud minimalist rock, or solemn horns. The swinging tale spun by “When We Were Young” tells of the artist’s transformation from future-assured and all-knowing youngster to a man humbled by life, but eager for more. Only “So Bari,” the heart-crushing lullaby and love-letter to Benjamin’s beloved Ifrah is soft and slow, concluding the album with the perfect optimistic note – providing hopeful, intimate resolution to the record.

Though Verdoes plays the drums in the prodigious Iska Dhaaf, he called on longtime friend and percussionist Matt Badger (of Ravenna Woods) to lend his talents on the solo record. Seattle musician Sam Miller, roommate of first Badger then Verdoes, joined the project as bassist, as well as producing the record). Though the songs were written by Verdoes, Badger and Miller were, for the most part, responsible for writing their respective parts to accompany Verdoes’ guitar and lyrics. While this seems like a small detail, it’s one of the main reasons the record is such a powerhouse. Verdoes’ many talents as an artist include recognizing when other great artists should be allowed to offer their own art, and Miller and Badger come through in spades, creating the perfect scaffold from which the lyrics can jump and soar, making the songs expansive, living things that only become more intriguing with each listen. They are at times catchy, infectious, and groovy, with an ear toward ensuring that each is a living thing, art to be observed and yet never fully understood.

The nuance and technical prowess of all musicians involved is mind-boggling, but never more so than the vocals of incomparable Seattle songstress Melodie Knight (currently of France) on “Under the Layers”. As Verdoes’ lyrics illustrate pain and confusion, depression and loss, and the hopelessness and isolation that come with being wounded and held down, Knight’s vocals capture the difficulty and frankness of the death of a marriage with a hollow wail that seems to pull the tears from your eyes as the song reaches its anthemic, chest-shattering peak.

I tend to fear that a solo album is a one-time occurrence from Verdoes’, being that he is such a private person. Could he muster up the courage to do it again? I ask him this, and he responds with a wry smile, “I don’t know…I definitely don’t think I’ll sit down and write another solo album on purpose, but you never know. I’ve been singing this little melody of a question that Ifrah asks me all the time: ‘do you love me still?’ You never know what something like that can turn into.”

Check out what I’m talking about for yourself: Benjamin Verdoes’ solo record will be released (on my new favorite label, Seattle’s own Brick Lane Records) Tuesday, Jan. 14 at the Tractor Tavern.