Liner NotesBy Doug I’ve been lucky enough to play with many amazing musicians but I doubt that I will ever experience another musical connection like the one I had with my friend Ken Basman.Ken passed away in June of 2016, leaving a huge hole in the lives of his family, his musical colleagues and music-lovers everywhere. We’d been working on this album for some time, but at the point when he died we only had a handful of finished studio tracks. Luckily I had been casually archiving some of our live performances over the years, often recorded under less than ideal conditions.After much deliberation I decided to include some of the live tracks here. What was to be the pristinely recorded debut album of DUOTUNES, our telepathically-connected improvised duo, has now become a historical document. I hope you can overlook the occasional audience member whispering or bumping into the mic. I owe musician/engineer Kelly MacGuire a debt of gratitude for cleaning up such diverse audio sources to the best of his ability. I met Ken in 2004, on my first night in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. I was stunned to hear someone on his level in this small but wonderful colonial town in the middle of nowhere. We hit it off immediately.Like me, Ken was not only a player but also a composer and a producer with recording engineer chops. He had moved from Toronto to Mexico in the early ‘90s and began blowing people away at jazz festivals around the country. He honed his studio skills working with Lila Downs, Iraida Noriega, Magos Herrera, Donald Fagen, Gabriel Hernandez, Bobby Kapp and others. Ken and I immediately formed a band with two of the best players in town, bassist Antonio Lozoya and drummer Victor Monterrubio. One night, unbeknownst to me, Ken asked the rhythm section to drop out for a chorus during his solo on “Marcale, Sam.” I thought it was my turn to solo so we both started improvising simultaneously. We knew immediately what was happening but we both kept playing, our lines weaving in and out of each other’s as if we’d rehearsed it. It was an electrifying combination of trust, intuition and luck. This became a permanent feature in our shows and a great setting to explore our duo chemistry. I believe we rushed the band into the studio shortly after that night, and you can hear the results on band track “Marcale, Sam” (track 9).After that, we formed a duo and took our music to restaurants and small theaters. The lack of formal arrangements turned us on—one night a song would be 3 minutes long and the next night it would be an epic 15-minute journey. If our minds and hearts were open, then it would all work out.We just got better and better at this kind of playing, and in April of 2016 we finally picked our favorite studio tracks and started preparing to record a few more for this album. Sadly we never got the chance. Ken died on June 21, 2016 from complications after surviving a massive heart attack. I lost one of my best friends and my closest musical compadre that day. I will always be deeply grateful for the time we spent together exploring the art of simultaneous improvisation. And even though our bond was special, I was far from the only one who felt that way about Ken—his Celebration of Life Ceremony/Memorial Jam Session was attended by almost 400 locals. I know that Ken would approve of our dedicating this work to his wife Alina and their three amazing children, Aron, Michaela and Acatzin. Hasta la vista, amigo.