It's no big secret how I choose to record an artist, especially one unknown to me. I hear the music and, because of some dynamic I find refreshing or rewarding, I offer to produce the artist's concept. Artistry often manifests itself in a passionate sense of purpose mixed with, or presented through, various technical abilities.

It was this passion of purpose that struck me about Bill Gagliardi's music when Lou Grassi, in August of 2000 and on Bill's behalf, sent me a demo of the quartet at work/play. The demo wasn't the best, from an audio point of view, but the artistic quality and potential display was obvious, as was the pleasant mix and integration of instrumental sound from the group.

So, we arranged for this date and Bill sent me a 5 page handwritten letter giving some of his background: Born 1947, Staten Island, NY. Served in the Navy as a musician. Toured, listened and woodshedded, eventually settling in Puerto Rico, working with big bands, lounges, clubs and jamming with his (now lifelong) close friend Alex Acuna. Then he was off to the Molde Jazz Fest in Norway, where he worked with Beaver Harris' 360° Experience, and settled there for 3 years. During that period he played everything from avant garde to folk while working various jobs from dishwasher to bio-dynamic farmer along with playing and traveling around Europe by thumb. Then it was off to India to study "the science of the soul." Eventually he resettled in New York and became involved in various pursuits ranging from the experimental theatre of LaMama to involvement with the loft scene and playing free and "not so free" commercial and noncommercial music. Bill's background is, to a great extent, the experiences of a search.

In speaking with Bill for the first time, 2 days before this session, I reinforced the notion that he should take advantage of the CIMP situation and, as much as possible, express himself in artistic terms as purely as possible: that the success of this concert depended solely on its artistic integrity. He understood immediately and reflected for a moment as an individual who for many years accumulated experiences and stimuli and was now, in the second half of his life, being more discriminate while sorting out the meaningful from the superficial. He concluded by telling me that "after all these years I've found out what really turns me on past all the hype: music is the meditation."

As the soundchecks came together, I began to realize that this would be, if nothing else, a personal expression, a musical statement of a synthesis of the input of 54 years.

I was outside stacking firewood when the group arrived at about 4 p.m. Greeting the quartet (Bill along with Lou Grassi [1947, Summit, NJ], Dave Hofstra [1953, Leavenworth, KS], and Ken Wessel [1956, White Plains, NY]), I suggested that they set up and that I would be along, unless they wanted to help me. Remarkably, by the time I came in (wet and sawdusty), the group had not only set up but was well into a sound check. Such is the power (or threat) of suggestion. They were also pretty quick to the suggestion of supper and by 8 p.m. music was once more in the house.

First impression for me of Bill is contrast. He is a diminutive man, seemingly modest, dressed in clothes which look big on him; with a white baseball hat turned backward on his shaved head he suggests a middle-aged hip hopper. Freely associating with an easy laugh and projecting a sense of bemused ambivalence, he is not an imposing figure until he starts to play and then I am reminded why we are recording this group. His is a very strong voice with torquing solos that engage quickly with a tension nicely complemented by the intensity of the supporting rhythm. Listen to how he sets up Ken's outstanding solo on (Oli-skt. Wombfire) all the while keeping eye contact with other band members, nodding approval, giving support with his eyes. Midway into the first night, questions began to occur to me: Why is this his first recording? (A: Priorities of family, concerns with music not recordings); What are his influences? (A: Coltrane for his openness and spirituality); Why is he so unknown to the Jazz world (A: He's been playing all along or, as Dave Hofstra put it, toiling away in obscurity).

The first night we recorded over about a 4-hour period with good humor and with a constant level of excellence. The next morning we were at it again, revisiting compositions (Rootlessness/ Encryptic Hip Bop/ Good Lookin’ Popular) whose level of excellence had eluded the group the night before. As with the night before, the togetherness of this music and the inspired flights had a profound effect on me. It does make me wonder about art, talent, and recognition and why things are as they are or perhaps this is lousy music, with average execution, poorly produced… Nah!

There is a truth in art and a sense of correctness and perhaps that is what draws us back to it and why it commands room in our existence. Why did I choose to produce this group of artists? The results are the obvious answer and the results also beg the other questions.

Pleasures.

Robert D. Rusch - February 21, 2001