As it says on the tin: the veteran trombonist delivers a set of unabashedly tender, heartstringspulling fare which harks back to a time when being ‘in a sentimental mood’ was perhaps more common in the jazz aesthetic, irrespective of how able a soloist one was. Hence the takes on ‘Baby, It's Cold Outside’, ‘Autumn Leaves’, and ‘Come Sunday’ are all sufficiently warm and sweet. The major bonus is the reprise of a wide variety of quality pop and R&B staples – Beatles to Booker T & The MGs via The Shadows. Rudd turns up the blues-gospel dial in his playing to good effect and his languorous, breathy plunges work well alongside the hot sizzle of John Medeski's Hammond B-3. It is something of a cliché to state that older musicians can actually say more when they play less, or rather that they know how to make every note count, but Rudd gives credence to that maxim. Sometimes he restricts himself to playing the melody, giving just a few variations thereon, which may rattle the cages of the less benevolent improv hardcore. Yet that's not the point. This is an album of seduction and charm. Rudd's economy stays true to that premise. And it works.