Saxophonist Charles Lloyd, soon to be 75, here gives an intimate closeup of his warm relationship with brilliant pianist Jason Moran – and with his enslaved great-great-grandmother, who names the album through Lloyd's suite in her memory. Evergreens such as Ellington's Mood Indigo mingle with Dylan's I Shall Be Released and the Beach Boys' God Only Knows – the latter choice reflecting Lloyd's California sojourns with the Beach Boys in the 1970s. There are a few uptempo passages here – including a briskly striding Mood Indigo and a boogieing Rosetta – where Lloyd sounds unsettled by the momentum and the absence of a rhythm section to fill gaps, and uneasily resorts to whirring repeated figures and the same upwardly barrelling run to a resolving note. But for the most part, the album is a testament to the sonic eloquence Lloyd discovered on his comeback via ECM at the end of the 80s – in haunting pieces such as Bess, You Is My Woman Now, the lovely ballad All About Ronnie and the distantly Ornette-like Hagar's Lullaby.