Krall reached back to the jazz of the 1920s and 1930s, material her father had collected, and made it sound like her own discovery.
When Diana Krall released Glad Rag Doll (2012), she was already established as one of the most commercially successful jazz pianists of her time. This album arrived without fanfare as a devoted side project — a chance to work with producer T Bone Burnett on material drawn from her father's collection of 78-rpm records. It was neither a blockbuster nor a cult object, but rather a record that found its audience among listeners who appreciated Krall's willingness to step away from the contemporary jazz mainstream and sit alone with the songbook of an earlier era.
The album covers mostly jazz tunes from the 1920s and 1930s, a period Krall approaches with genuine affection rather than scholarly distance. She plays piano throughout, steering clear of the ensemble settings that often define her work, and the songs arrive stripped down and intimate. There is no attempt to make these old tunes sound new or clever. Instead, Krall treats them as pieces worth returning to — songs that her father had loved enough to preserve on fragile records. Burnett's production stays out of the way, letting the piano and voice occupy the space without ornament.
For listeners familiar with Krall's other records, this one reads as a pause rather than a pivot. It sits apart from her catalogue — quieter, more introspective, less concerned with polish or commercial appeal. The album asks very little of the listener except attention and a tolerance for simplicity. That restraint is precisely what gives it weight.