It contains a suite which composer and drummer Max Roach and lyricist Oscar Brown had begun to develop in 1959 with a view to its performance in 1963 on the centennial of the Emancipation Proclamation.

The Penguin Guide to Jazz awarded the album one of its rare crown accolades, in addition to featuring it as part of its Core Collection.

In 2022, the album was selected by the Library of Congress for preservation in the United States National Recording Registry as being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.".

[8] It incorporates aspects of avant-garde trends during the 1960s, including the use of a pianoless ensemble, screaming vocals on "Protest", and moments of collective improvisation, such as at the end of "Tears for Johannesburg".

[9] Max Roach collaborated with lyricist Oscar Brown Jr. on the album and wrote songs that played variations on the theme of the struggle for African Americans to achieve equality in the United States.

Monson wrote that "Brown did not know about the Freedom Now Suite recording until he received a postcard from Nat Hentoff requesting biographical material to be included in the liner notes to the album.

"[5] Written by Max Roach and Oscar Brown, "Driva Man" tells the explicit story of slavery through its lyrics and accompaniment.

Nat Hentoff, who was present at the recording sessions of the album, wrote that the Driva' Man "is a personification of the white overseer in slavery times who often forced women under his jurisdiction into sexual relations.

In Hentoff's liner notes he includes a description of the patrollers by a former slave who says they are men "who would catch you from home and wear you out and send you back to your master...Most of them there patrollers was poor white folks...Poor white folks had to hustle round to make a living, so they hired out theirselves to slaveowners and rode the roads at night and whipped you if they catched you off their plantation without a pass.

Alisa White describes how the 5/4 time signature of the track adds an intense percussive hit, played either by a tambourine or as a rimshot, on the first beat of each measure.

Hentoff wrote, "'Freedom Day' manages to capture both the anticipation and anxiety of the moment of Emancipation by setting its minor-blue solos over a feverishly paced rhythm section.

[13] In his liner notes, Hentoff includes the instrumental solos played by Booker Little on trumpet, Walter Benton on tenor saxophone, Julian Priester on trombone, and Max Roach on drums.

"[9]: 58  In the liner notes Nat Hentoff wrote that "Triptcyh" is a "final, uncontrollable unleashing of rage and anger that have been compressed in fear for so long that the only catharsis can be the extremely painful tearing out of all the accumulating fury...."[5] The first section, "Prayer," exposes "Abbey Lincoln at her most haunting, as she slowly builds from low to high in call and response with Roach's drums, which are tuned to match the tonality of Lincoln's voice.

[9]: 58 "Lincoln recalls that it was Max Roach's idea, not hers, to include the screaming: 'It wasn't an approach to music that I would have chosen, but because I thought of him as a teacher- he preceded me- I did what I could to please him.'

[9]: 59  Critics reviewed this section as an explicit rejection of Martin Luther King's nonviolent protest philosophy[9] with a very clear take-away message from Max Roach.

"'[5] "Peace" provides the first time in the track when Max Roach plays a steady rhythm behind Lincoln, whose vocal part transitions from scatting into a guttural tone and finishes with an exhaustive exhale.

[14] In the introduction of All Africa, Olatunji accompanies Abbey Lincoln with polyrhythmic beat and direction[9][13] Along with the new personnel on this track, including Afro-Cuban players Mantillo and DuVal, a new percussion ensemble, rhythmic ostinatos, and open-ended modal frameworks are added to point the listener more specifically to its African, Cuban, and Caribbean influences.

"[6] Hentoff's liner notes continue: Tears for Johannesburg sums up, in large sense, what the players and singers of the album are trying to communicate.

"[9] Although there is a set chorus structure for this track, it sounds open and free[13] In order, solos are played by Booker Little, Walter Benton, Julian Priester, and the drummers.

"[10] The album inspired Roach to broaden his scope as a composer and collaborate with choreographers, filmmakers, and Off-Broadway playwrights on projects such as a stage version of We Insist!.

[10] In a retrospective five-star review of the album, Allmusic's Michael G. Nastos called it a crucial work in the civil rights movement of the early 1960s, Roach's discography, and African-American music in general because of the emotional range and resolve of the music and the enduring relevance of its message: "Every modern man, woman, and child could learn exponentially listening to this recording — a hallmark for living life.

"[4] John Morthland of eMusic gave the album four-and-a-half stars and wrote that, as a "jazz landmark" and enduring civil rights statement, it provided the model for numerous subsequent musical suites and presentations that dealt with the same subject.