There is something deeply courageous about an album like Attunement. In an age where so much music feels designed for instant consumption, Heidi Martin has instead chosen patience, reflection and total immersion. What began as two years of academic research into the estate of Abbey Lincoln at Rutgers University slowly evolved into something far more personal than a traditional tribute record. This album is not interested in recreating the past. It is an album that attempts to sit beside it, listen to it and absorb its spirit.
Martin’s time studying Lincoln’s journals in chronological order clearly left a profound mark on her writing. You can feel it throughout these songs. Not through imitation, but through atmosphere, philosophy and emotional honesty. There are moments on Attunement where it feels as though Martin is less concerned with performance and more concerned with emotional alignment, trying to understand what it means to create from a place of complete truthfulness in the same way Lincoln always did.
The fascinating thing here is that Martin never falls into the trap that so many “inspired by” records do. There are no heavy-handed recreations or obvious nods designed to reassure the listener that the research has been done. Instead, the influence reveals itself gradually in the spaces between the notes, in the patience of the arrangements and in the way these songs refuse to rush toward resolution.
And surrounding herself with musicians so closely connected to Lincoln’s own musical legacy gives the album an extraordinary authenticity. Bassist Michael Bowie and pianist Marc Cary both spent over a decade performing alongside Lincoln, and that shared history brings a remarkable emotional intelligence to the sessions. Bowie, acting as musical director as well as bassist, seems to instinctively understand where these compositions need space and where they need grounding. Cary’s piano playing, meanwhile, is simply beautiful throughout; lyrical, thoughtful and often carrying that late-night glow that makes you stop whatever else you are doing just to sit inside the sound for a while.
Eric Kennedy’s drumming deserves huge credit, too. Nothing here feels overplayed. Everything serves the mood, the narrative and the emotional temperature of the record. Even when Elijah Easton’s tenor saxophone rises through the arrangements, or Ethan Bailey Gould’s guitar gently colours the edges of a piece, there is a collective sense of restraint and trust. Nobody is fighting for the spotlight. The music breathes naturally.
What makes Attunement especially compelling, though, is the way Martin brings her singer-songwriter sensibility into this world. There is jazz here unquestionably, but there is also folk music, poetry and something deeply conversational running through the album. Previous reviews of Martin’s work have spoken about her ability to bring a 1960s folk influence into jazz spaces, and that feels absolutely true listening to this record. But what stands out most is the emotional clarity of the writing. These songs feel lived in.
The album also benefits enormously from the fact that Martin’s research extended beyond archives and academia. This was not simply a historical study. It became an emotional study. Spiritual study almost. The idea behind Attunement — whether music can emerge through alignment with another artist’s energy and philosophy — could easily sound pretentious on paper. Yet the album itself never does. It feels warm, human and remarkably unforced.
There is something wonderfully unhurried about the entire record, too. Modern jazz albums can sometimes become overcrowded with ideas, desperate to prove their complexity. Attunement does the opposite. It trusts the mood. It trusts silence. It allows the listener room to think and feel for themselves.
That patience perhaps reflects one of the most important lessons Martin seems to have taken from Abbey Lincoln herself. Lincoln understood that music was never simply about technical brilliance; it was about humanity, dignity, vulnerability and saying something real. Martin taps into that same emotional honesty here and the result is an album that feels quietly profound without ever needing to announce itself as such.
Knowing the story behind the recording only deepens that feeling. Recorded at Tonal Park Studios and later mixed and mastered by Dave Darlington at Two Bass Hit in New York, the album carries a warmth and intimacy that perfectly suits the material. You can hear the care that has gone into every detail.
There is also something incredibly refreshing about hearing an artist allow research and education to genuinely shape their artistry rather than simply decorate it. Martin’s work in education throughout Washington D.C., her involvement with young learners and her wider commitment to creativity all seem connected to the openness and generosity that runs through Attunement. This is an album created by somebody listening deeply to history, to musicians around her and ultimately to herself.
And perhaps that is what lingers most after the final notes fade. Attunement never feels like a museum piece dedicated to preserving legacy. It feels alive. Quietly searching. Deeply human. The kind of record that reveals more of itself late at night when the world finally slows down enough to hear it properly. Glenn Wright
Release date 26th May 2026
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