The band can't seem to end. We came together, through a typical series of accidents, to put together a show about Chet Baker, starring Leif as the man himself, that there was some interest in. We were an eclectic mix, to say the least. Leif, a long, tall drink of water who came from the fishing boats of Vancouver through the Canadian rock scene, while at the same time somehow living a parallel life that led him to New York as a jazz trumpet player with a side gig as a singer/songwriter. The thing about Leif is he actually is all those things, as well as a husband and a father and I don't even want to talk about what else. The raw material for "tlab" is his ideas. Keith, young, fit, a bachelor and oh so talented. Tarheel born and bred, UNC, guitar god of the North Carolina rock scene. Player, writer, singer, resident master of harmony and all around free spirit with backbone. Vito. Austrian. The immediate first choice. Living the life of the bebop expatriate backwards, the consummate accompanist, going home on the road with many of the best. Will. That's me. Oh God, somebody say something. Well, I've been doing this for a long time, that's for sure. And sometimes I have known the feeling that is the reason why. And I love working on this particular music, even though it's hard as hell sometimes. But the unique nature of the music and the musical/personal chemistry we have keeps me coming back for more. That and the fact that the music is so beautiful and so much fun to play.

The Chet Baker project never materialized exactly as planned, but we learned the music, made it our own, played some gigs, and eventually recorded "Channeling Chet." That kept us busy for a while, winning a Billboard award and bringing hard-to-get bookings like Birdland and Joe's Pub and lots of not-quite-as-hard-to-get other work. Chet and his music provided the musical direction at the beginning, and I can still hear his influence, not just on Leif, but on the music as a whole.

Somewhere in there, without really ever talking about it, we started to act like a band. Leif had a lot of old songs of his that he had played with others, and we learned some, and they were really fun to play, and people liked it. But ultimately that ended up feeling like a step that we kind of rushed through on our way to where we are now. We needed to start from scratch so everything everybody had could get into the songs. We started meeting in Leif's basement in September 2001, coincidentally, I think, amid the physical and emotional wreck that was the Village post-9/11. Leif brought in words and melodies, sometimes fairly complete, sometimes like sketches, and we just put it all through the meat grinder. All four of us, endlessly trying things, each sometimes just sitting and waiting while other guys worked on something, sometimes burning with an idea that might move the music forward or higher, sometimes just trying to have an idea, any idea. It was pretty crazy. Is pretty crazy. Keith really caught the attitude that we fell into that allowed us to do such a thing until we had eight songs actually where we wanted them (from his great little poem for the record jacket): "captured also echoes of early versions floating harmlessly through the air, like slowly passing by the scene of an accident, distant enough to feel safe, close enough to remind us of the sweetness of the journey."

So now it's the spring of 2003 and the record is finally done, and it's time to get it out there, play gigs, sell the CD, try to do business, work on the next one. Remind me about the sweetness of the journey again?

WW