T.J. Graham (Buffalo, NY) came to my attention in July 2000 as the singer with the Memphis-based Jazz trio, Footprints. Her delivery, freshness and credibility impressed me. Obviously talented, she managed, in her exposition, to handle old standards with new insight. Most importantly, she managed to change this listener from observer to one drawn into the music and its travel.

T. J. resides in Memphis, Tennessee where, over the years, she has taught elementary school, been a school principal and is currently a professor at LeMoyne-Owen College. I felt geography and professional commitments made working together unrealistic and I said so in a frank letter to her that acknowledged her talent but tried to discourage any pipe dreams that she might have about stardom. I figured she'd be discouraged by my cynicism, stay local and probably have a successful local career. Testing her commitment, I told her that many do better as local artists than as national ones and that the realities of making a living as a Jazz artist were remote and often not related to artistic abilities. She responded with an equally frank letter, remarkable in its lack of defensiveness, regarding the realities about the bizness, or, as she wrote, it could "be likened unto rowing up a steep stream with no paddles…." Well, I guess if one has the energy, talent and desire to row paddle-less then I'm willing to provide the boat. And so we moved further into doing a recording, perhaps waiting for the other to blink. I suggested a small group, 1 or 2 pieces, as accompaniment and sent her some examples of our work with singers. She noted that she "was particularly impressed with Pucci Jhones' performance of 'That Sunday, That Summer' (CIMP 170)." It is an impressive performance and notable in its solo accompaniment by Rory Stuart's guitar work. At this point I put Rory (1956, NYC, NY) and T. J. in contact with one another. Rory is a hard man to please and reluctant to be involved with projects he finds not excellent. To my pleasure Rory responded positively to T. J.'s work and, over the next 11 months, they began working out material, arrangements and logistics. One week before this date the two got together and worked things out further. Rory was particularly impressed by what he felt was T. J.'s remarkable endurance: "We did a non-stop, 7-1/2 hours of rehearsal and she never needed a break."

So the date was set, Rory came up a few days early to get his sound right and T. J. arrived mid Monday morning.

July 23rd proved to be one of the rare days when the North Country temperatures reached into the 90s. Even so, T. J. and Rory got right to it and we began the first session a bit after 1 p.m., but, after about an hour I gave in to the 98°F heat and humidity and less than favorable recording circumstances in favor of less taxing pursuits.

We reconvened again around 7:30 p.m. and T. J. and Rory, seemingly unaffected by the heat (other than Rory's attempts to keep his hands dry), began to work through their repertoire: back-to-back single takes of O Barquinho and Oh Baby Baby, 3 takes on Savoy, 2 takes of Secret Love, and so forth. T. J. fearlessly, and without any lyric sheets, committed with Rory their artistry intimately and direct-to-disk. By 10 p.m. the temperature had dipped down into the high 80s, but it seemed the humidity had taken up the slack. As the artists became one with the rhythm of the room and the ambiance of the moment, felt moments came together into a moving whole and material began to mount up. In fact we had far too much for a single CD and, over 2 days I painfully pared away wonderful music.

While this is about artists and music and not endurance, the quality of this music is all the more remarkable when one realizes the second session ran from 7:30 p.m. to about 3 a.m. and racked up over 40 complete takes without deterioration in the voices of the artists or their enthusiasm. I was drained but very pleased and a bit apprehensive that my enthusiasm wouldn't hold up on relistenings to the material. A day later my enthusiasm held. I am confident that other listeners will share my enthusiasm.

One of life's little pleasures.

Robert D. Rusch - July 24, 2001