Standards played with care, artistry, and brilliance—Barron lets each tune breathe.
The Only One is a solo piano record, which means you're hearing nothing but Barron and the instrument for forty-plus minutes. No bass, no drums, no horns—just his hands finding the melody and harmony in songs everyone knows. The tempo varies track to track; some tunes move with a walker's deliberation, others stride forward with clear purpose. There's space between the notes. He's not filling silence; he's using it. You hear the piano's resonance, the weight of each chord, the way he voices a phrase differently the second time through.
Barron had been a working pianist for decades by 1990, and this record benefits from that experience without sounding tired. He doesn't reinvent the standards he plays—there's no aggressive reharmonization or avant-garde abstraction. Instead, he respects the tunes enough to let them stand, while making small, intelligent choices about tempo, dynamics, and touch that shift how you hear them. The album lands somewhere between an intimate recital and a thoughtful conversation with himself about what these songs mean.
This is a good entry point to Barron's playing if you want to hear his touch and intelligence without other musicians competing for attention. It's also a solid mid-career statement from a pianist who knew how to serve a melody without disappearing into it.