Aside from the occasional mention of his name, I had never heard or heard of Tim Siciliano (b.1958, Mineola, NY) until last year when he appeared on a recording with the Bob Leto Trio. Dominic Duval (b.1944, NYC, NY) also was on that date. And, in fact, it was through Bob Leto that Dominic and Tim were introduced to one another. Dominic was pretty floored by Tim’s playing, sent me a demo of his work, and followed it up with (not exactly subtle) whisperings in my ear of Tim’s talents. Eventually (quite quickly, actually) I also came to the realization that this man can play a whole lot of guitar. Tim’s background to guitar is through the usual modern lineage, from Wes Montgomery through George Benson. But his real mentor was Attila Zoller, although I don’t really hear that much of an influence. What I did find notable about Tim’s playing is how he digs in, often producing fast skipping lines that for me are impossible not to get caught up in. Brian Willson (b.1953, Long Island, NY) has been playing with Dominic since the mid 1990’s (though, in fact, they actually shared a gig back in the early ‘80s). And it was Dominic who put Brian and Tim together when he invited Brian to join them on a gig. Afterward, he declared it was “a great fit” and invited Brian to the rehearsals, rehearsals that eventually led to this session. Brian also co-leads the Salim Washington-Brian Willson Quartet and released his first recording, Things Heard Unheard (Deep Listening Records), a trio with Yuko Fujiyama and Dominic, in 2005. Dominic arrived in the morning and went to sleep. Tim and Brian arrived around 4 p.m. in excellent spirits. A sound check was accomplished in short order and we, in fact, began recording a bit before 5:30 p.m., quickly breaking to indulge in supper-—a rather wonderful meal surrounded by desserts. By early evening we had regrouped in The Spirit Room and Tim opened with Jazz Folk. Ambiance is an elusive thing. Sound checks and warm-ups often go by with little self-consciousness. But when you get down to the actual recording of a performance, a self-consciousness or coldness can take over—the room develops a chill, the playing gets perfunctory, albeit professional. This isn’t always the case but for whatever reason it was so on this night. For the first few takes Tim seemed to have a governor on his lines and seemed reined in. But with each succeeding take he also moved closer to losing himself in the music until finally he made that transition on the third take of Jazz Folk (issued here), soon followed by his own In the Attic, a piece that, for my pleasures, could have been extended. Attic inspired Dominic to command Joshua and the session began to take on a life of its own; a good get-together. Given time and talent, inspiration will surmount the average. The lure of cakes and cookies eventually got the best of us all and we took a break, regrouping a bit after 9 p.m. with the assurance that things were going—and would continue to go—well. A trust had been established. The rest of the evening moved comfortably along, directing itself through various tempos and takes until fatigue took over. A full night’s rest, breakfast, and we were back at it in the a.m., warming up on Is That So, a piece well suited to the flow and lightness of touch this group sustains while swinging handily through the changes. The warm-up sounded good so I suggested they open with it, which they did. The first take: good, but it seemed to overstay its welcome. So the second take was cut down and seemed, to both me and Brian, to truncate Tim just as he began stretching out. In a word, it seemed short. So a third take was called, enlarging the solo space but cutting back on end theme restatement, all of which seemed just right and is issued here. I asked Tim why it took him 50 years to lead a session. He said that “it was coming along and something got in the way, called life.” A life is what this music is all about in statement, reflection, and then transformation (a perfect description for the handling of In Your Own Sweet Way, the session’s closer). Fifty years… a long time coming but not without purpose and resolve. Music of meaning. Enjoy. -Robert D. Rusch - March 11, 2008