Moran weaves several lines at once, involving his bassist and drummer in every aspect.
Facing Left opens with restless, forward-moving piano—no romantic cushion, no apology. Jason Moran is thinking out loud, fingers clustering chords and running single lines that shift direction mid-phrase. The rhythm section locks in tight, responding to every change, every feint. It's the sound of a conversation where nobody waits their turn, where ideas collide and spark. The bass and drums aren't accompanying; they're arguing back.
This is Moran's second album, and he's not trying to repeat the success of his debut. Instead he's doubling down on what already worked—the modern mainstream approach that borrows from everywhere without settling into any one lane. You hear echoes of Thelonious Monk's angular phrasing and the composed density of his teachers Jaki Byard and Richard Muhal Abrams, but filtered through a younger sensibility that doesn't feel bound to tradition. AllMusic reviewer David R. Adler noted Moran "does admirably well" following his debut, and that's fair: he's not reinventing himself, just deepening the method.
What distinguishes this record is the sheer energy applied to every piece—not flash, but commitment. Moran applies considerable force to the trio format, weaving multiple melodic lines while keeping the whole structure tight and responsive. If you're coming from his first album and wondering if he has more to say, the answer is yes, and he's saying it harder.