Hank Jones's spare, unhurried piano gives Haden's bass room to sing these old spirituals.
Hank Jones is the collaborator who shapes this album more than any other voice besides Haden's own. His piano is restrained and unshowy, leaving open space around the melodies so that the old spirituals and folk songs can breathe. He doesn't reach for flash. He lays down chords, lets a phrase hang, and trusts the material.
That restraint suits Haden, whose bass is the center of gravity here. Rather than walking through these tunes as jazz vehicles, the pair treat them as songs, letting the melodies carry the emotional weight. The arrangements stay close to the hymnal feel, and the mood is quiet, reflective, and sometimes solemn. This is not a swinging date. If you come expecting the energy of a typical Haden trio record, you will be surprised by how little hurry there is.
For listeners exploring Haden's catalog, this is a different side of him, a late-period record that focuses on tradition rather than innovation. It is worth hearing if you appreciate his bass tone and his instinct for melody, and it pairs well with his other work on the theme of American roots music. Start elsewhere if you want the adventurous Haden, but come here when you want to hear him at his most unhurried.