Lincoln still had a reasonably strong voice, capable of performing fiery musical statements alongside careful, grounded delivery.
By 1996, when Abbey Lincoln recorded Who Used to Dance, she was in her late sixties and had already lived several musical lifetimes. This album sits in that particular zone where an artist has earned the right to work exactly as they want, with exactly who they want. Lincoln brought together a genuine orchestra of soloists — saxophonists Steve Coleman, Oliver Lake, and Frank Morgan among them, cornetist Graham Haynes, pianist Marc Cary anchoring the sessions, and the tap dancer Savion Glover, who appears on select tracks. That last choice is unusual enough to matter. Glover's feet become another voice in the ensemble, another rhythmic conversation partner, which pulls the album away from straight vocal-jazz territory into something more theatrical and unpredictable.
The material leans heavily toward ballads — seven of the nine tracks — which means this is not a showcase for Lincoln's swing or her rhythmic flexibility. Instead, it's about the grain in her voice, the deliberate phrasing, the way she could shape a long line without hurrying. Critic Jim Santella of All About Jazz heard exactly this: the carefully articulated words, the tied-together whole note phrases. Scott Yanow at AllMusic was less convinced, calling it interesting but not essential, though he acknowledged Lincoln's capability for fiery delivery even at this stage of her career. He wasn't wrong on either count — this album has particular moments of real power, but it's not consistent fire from start to finish. It's a late-career record from an artist who knew what she wanted to say and had assembled the players to say it, even if the results feel more like a considered statement than a reinvention.