Pharos — Paul Dunlea & Trevor Mires: Carving a Sonic Fissure

Some works do not need to be validated by time: from the moment they are born, they shine with the same light that once crowned the Tower of Alexandria. The glow of this album emerges from two intrinsic elements. On a biological level, it manifests as a symbiosis in which each participant interacts until reaching the highest point of creation: transforming sound into a language accessible to any ear. On a metaphysical level, it reveals itself through duality—two trombonists who turn metal into voice; two composers who evoke the past and draw it into the present; two continents that converge through melody; two musical languages that converse to write a shared story.

Silfra has ceased to be merely the place where the tectonic plates of America and Europe meet; it has now transformed into a sonic universe. The story of this new cosmos is told through improvisation and, of course, through the memories of its creators: trombonists Paul Dunlea and Trevor Mires. “It wasn’t a trombone-centric project,” Trevor reflects, noting that it felt less about the choice of instruments and more about the two of them writing music. Paul echoes this sentiment: “We didn’t set out to write a two-trombone album. It just happened that way. But once we committed, we thought: if we’re going to do this, let’s take the plunge and tick off a couple of bucket-list items along the way.”

Their reflections reinforce what becomes evident from the very first track: the album is not defined by the trombone, but by the convergence of voices, histories, and aspirations. Before recording, both musicians carried distinct wishes: “Trevor wanted to play with drummer Billy Kilson, and I wanted to record at the legendary Rudy Van Gelder Studio,” Paul reveals. The intersection between the ghosts of jazz tradition that linger in that space and leaders of the contemporary scene created a dialogue across time—one in which memory and innovation coexist in every note.

Inside Van Gelder’s studio, every instrument carried its own legacy. “When you walk into that building, it feels almost like a museum. We had a lot to contend with over those couple of days,” Trevor recalls. In that atmosphere, improvisation became more than performance; it turned into a dialogue with the past, a way of weaving memory into the essence of contemporary sound. “The studio gave us options for pianos. It was surreal to realize that one was the piano Monk preferred to play, and the other was Bud Powell’s,” Dunlea continues. “Each carried a massive discography within it—you’re not just choosing instruments; you’re stepping into history.”

The vibrations that emerged within the studio would have meant little without the people who catalyzed them into creation. During the recording, engineer and co-owner Maureen Sickler—along with her partner Don—was essential in helping the musicians find their pulse and settle into rhythm. “We invited Ryan Keberle, another trombone player, to come and play with us. But genuinely, he’s just a musical voice. It’s less about the fact that he plays our instrument,” Trevor adds. Around Paul Dunlea, Trevor Mires, and Ryan Keberle, a constellation of musicians formed—each one shaping the album’s cosmos: Jim Ridl at the piano, Ike Sturm on bass, Billy Kilson on drums, and Matt Cooper on synths. Each brought not only technical mastery but a distinct sensibility that expanded the project’s sonic universe.

Dunlea, from Ireland, and Mires, from London, crossed the Atlantic to spend forty-eight hours recording inside one of jazz’s most revered sanctuaries. It’s impossible not to wonder how long the goosebumps last when history, memory, and creation converge in a space like that. “I didn’t have that space to think about it. It’s only once the record was released that I thought, oh yeah, we did do that—that was great. And that’s not a negative thing. It’s just the reality of being a working musician, constantly running back and forth,” Mires reflects. Dunlea adds, “It’s only when you get into the realms of mixing and mastering that it becomes more real and tangible—when you start to see the artwork—that the magnitude of it dawns on you. Ironically, ‘magnitude’ feels too big a word, but still, the sense of accomplishment only really arrives long after the fact.”

What vanishes in the immediacy of performance endures in the permanence of the record. This album is steeped in history—not the kind taught in school, with its tidy dates and fixed geographies, but a history made of fleeting scenes transformed into musical language. Across its seven tracks lies the essence of two musicians who have refined their craft over decades and across countless stages. Their trajectory allows them to speak without euphemism, confident in their ability to write melodies that continue to resonate once silence falls. “Honestly, it wasn’t like I woke up one morning, smoked a cigar, looked out at the sunrise, and decided to write songs. It was more like: we’re going to New York in six weeks, we need music. The creativity has to be coaxed and encouraged,” Trevor reflects.

Each track on Silfra carries a fragment of their story—echoes of history, humor, family summers, and freedom. Yet beyond the repertoire, what truly emerges is the devotion that binds them to the trombone and to jazz. For Dunlea and Mires, the instrument is not simply a tool of expression; it is woven into their identity. As Trevor explains, “Sometimes there’s a risk of separating being a craftsperson from being a musician, as if they’re two different things. For me, that’s a constant life challenge, and I’m glad it is—it keeps me thinking about art, creativity, being truthful with music, and the pursuit of excellence, or better still, improvement. It’s a journey.”
Paul carries that same understanding from a lifetime inside the instrument: “I’ve been playing the trombone since I was seven. I’m 45 now, so that’s well over three decades. I’ve spent more of my life playing the trombone than not… It’s integral to everything I do and everything I am. Without being too spiritual about it, the trombone is essentially everything—alongside my family, of course—but it’s woven into the fabric of my life.”

Silfra—both the place and the album—embodies the meeting of forces seldom seen yet always in motion. Just as two tectonic plates reshape the earth through slow, imperceptible shifts, the collaboration between Paul Dunlea and Trevor Mires alters the musical landscape by persistently refining who they are through the trombone. The result is an album born from the convergence of continents, histories, and visions—one that leaves its own trace in the world: a sonic fissure into which listeners can plunge, carried by the rhythms of the musicians who continue to shape today’s contemporary jazz scene.