DownBeat gave it five stars the moment it arrived—a rare consensus that this was something vital.
Going for Myself arrived as a signal. DownBeat's five-star rating made clear that critics understood what they were hearing: one of Lester Young's last chances to speak on record, and he hadn't wasted it. The album didn't build a cult reputation over decades—it landed as essential, recognized straight away by the people paying attention. This was a commercial release from a major label, not a bootleg or afterthought, which meant the industry was still invested in Young's voice even as his health declined.
Harry "Sweets" Edison and Young trade phrases over Oscar Peterson's trio, and the conversation feels unhurried. Peterson doesn't overshadow; he props up the horns without showboating. The recording has a live, intimate quality—you hear the air in the studio. Young's tone is still recognizable, still his own, though it carries the weight of everything he'd been through by that point. Edison matches him phrase for phrase, and the two of them seem to know exactly what the other will do next.
This isn't the peak of Young's powers—that was years before. But it's one of his last studio recordings, which makes it matter differently. You can hear a musician still thinking, still listening, still capable of surprise. For anyone tracking Young's later work, this is required listening.