When we talked about the gig there was some concern if Jim would be able to play. He hadn’t been feeling well. Somehow on the night of the gig he managed to play his ass off, and really dug the results and thought we had done a classic free jazz set. He especially liked a section where I stayed upstairs for a long time. He said he thought we should put it out and it would probably be a memorial record. I of course said I hoped it wouldn’t be the last, but it was. Jim passed a month later. He was a very deep cat. A philosopher, musician, poet, artist and writer. I know he wrote a novel; it may be lost to history. We were introduced in the nineties by a mutual friend, Kevin Cooney, who did a stint on the West Coast where he ran into Jim. I think the first time we met was when he came to New York the and stopped by a kinda straight ahead brunch gig I was playing at The Garage in the West Village. I know he stayed with me more than once in my tiny East Village apartment. We played totally improvised music together and performed on the west and east coasts. I remember he used to go to Mosswood Park in Oakland California most mornings and play in the amphitheater there. I would join him when I was in town.
I miss him. - Dave Sewelson

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