Billboard : 08/11/1962
Spotlight Album

Here’s one for Basie buffs. The Count’s inimitable piano, so often lost to the general listener in the shouting big band sound, comes forth eloquently here. In addition, the top soloists in the band form a throbbing small group that plays with taste, tight unison and swing. Thad Jones contributes great trumpet, Frank Wess, Eric Dixon and Frank Foster cover the reed work and the rhythm section is in great form. Lady Be Good, I Want A Little Girl and Tally Ho Mr. Basie are all fine tracks.

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Cashbox : 08/11/1962

Here’s an interesting set presenting Count Basie in an off-beat small-band spotlight. There 88’er is given considerably greater freedom here to make his distinctive, personal rhythmic statements. The music is standards and Basie and crew wail effectively on Oh, Lady Be Good, Secrets and Shoe Shine Boy. One of the most impressive sets that the pianist has cut in quite a while. Disk should appeal to a host of jazzophiles.

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Audio
John S. Wilson : November, 1962

The light-footed airiness which was one of the characteristics of the original Basie band, a quality usually missing from his current group, is recaptured by this septet drawn from that current band. Of the eight tunes played by the Basie rhythm section plus Thad Jones, trumpet, with Frank Foster, Frank Wess, and Eric Dixon of the reed section, three are repeats of some of Basie’s earliest recordings – Lady Be Good, I Want a Little Girl, and Shoe Shine Boy. It may be the pure joy of hearing these familiar pieces played with such effortless warmth and recorded so brilliantly that makes them seem distinctly superior to the five originals included here. Nonetheless, none of the new pieces offers anything to compare to Thad Jones’ superb wa-wa solo on Little Girl, with Basie filling in perceptively on organ behind him, or Basie’s gorgeously succinct two-chorus solo on Lady Be Good, with Jones’ crisp, to-the-point trumpet. The new selections have their moments, but there is a great deal of flute playing which reduces them to ordinary terms, and they lack the positive shape of the older pieces. In both cases, however, it is a pleasure to hear Basie in such loose, flexible surroundings once again.

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San Francisco Chronicle
Ralph J. Gleason : 08/26/1962

One of the most interesting series of recordings by the great Count Basie band of the thirties was the small-group sessions done for various labels in which units of the big band were given a chance to be on their own.

The Kansas City Seven sides, the Jones-Smith sides and some others were all a delight because the Basie men – and Basie himself – stretched out and played with greater chance to improvise at length. There was more of the Basie piano, too, than one could get from the big band.

Bob Thiele of Impulse, apparently an unreconstructed admirer of those records, has produced an LP just released called Count Basie and the Kansas City 7 which applies the formula to the current Basie band with considerable success. One should listen to these sides on their own merits, though, and not compare them to something which is really incomparable – the original small-group sessions.

The new album brings back several tunes long associated with the older Basie band – Lady Be Good, Shoe Shine Boy and I want a Little Girl – and adds a quintet of new ones. The personnel is the Basie rhythm section of the past few years with Basie on piano, Eddie Jones on bass and Sonny Payne on drums, Freddie Green on guitar plus Thad Jones on trumpet and three tenor men, Eric Dixon, Frank Wess and Frank Foster. Dixon and Wess double on flute.

It’s a fine, relaxed and beautifully swinging set which is remarkable not only for the playing of the tenor men, but for Thad Jones’ beautiful horn. And then there is the well-oiled perfection of the Basie rhythm section and the occasional (still too infrequent) solo by Basie himself. A nice excursion into simplicity in modern dress.

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Saturday Review
Wilder Hobson : 08/25/1962

Recently in this space I gave one of my recurrent lectures on the virtues of the small as against the large jazz band. I could hardly have hoped for more eloquent backing than I now obtain from an LP by Count Basie and the Kansas City Seven. This is seven-piece music by players from the big Basie band, including the leader at the piano and Thad Jones, trumpet; Frank Wess, flute; Eric Dixon, flute and tenor sax; Frank Foster, tenor sax; Freddie Green, guitar; Ed Jones, bass; and Sonny Payne, drums.

These men hark back to the Basie small-band records of the mid-Thirties, with such themes as Lady Be Good and Shoe Shine Boy, and their music is so buoyant as to give new meaning to the term souffle. There is simply no way to obtain this quality with the big-band formation of full brass and reed sections – although Basie himself and Duke Ellington have come close to it at times. Basie’s piano is a glancing joy, Green’s guitar the most elegant of pulsations, and Sonny Payne sounds like the Jo Jones of the Basie heyday. The “swing era” had its high refinements, mostly under the Basie baton, and they live again on this disc.

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Down Beat : 10/11/1962
Leonard Feather : 4.5 stars

An honorable tradition is brought up to date on these sides.

The Basie-plus-small-combo concept, first heard in the late 1930s and used intermittently since then, here has the same ensemble and rhythm-section qualities as on the earlier dates; but added to the nostalgia of this basic simplicity is the vital plus of soloists reflecting the post-bop generation, of which Thad Jones, Dixon, Foster, and Wess are all unmistakably a part.

The music is compositionally unimportant, even trivial at times; Whitehead and Tally-Ho are both I Got Rhythm variants. The best originals are Wess’ Secrets and Thad Jones’ charming blues, What’cha Talkin’? The former does sound like a modernized version of the old John Kirby Sextet, as Stanley Dance’s admirably helpful liner notes point out.

Little Girl, with Basie on organ and Dixon on clarinet (as Lester Young was in the Kansas City Six version in 1938), has trumpeter Jones in the old Buck Clayton role, but he sounds as if he’s not sure whether to take the wa-wa bit seriously, and winds up a little too close to Clyde McCoy. The rest of his work is up to his best level throughout both sides.

Shoe Shine, which also invites a comparison (Basie cut it with a quintet in 1936), has an unexpected introduction that lifts bodily eight bars out of the old Billy Moore composition Battle Ax recorded by Jimmie Lunceford‘s band. Foster and Dixon both have excellent solos.

The two-flute tracks probably sound far more stimulating in stereo than they do in the monophonic version I have.

Because it offers what is probably a final glimpse of this rhythm section (bassist Jones has departed at this writing) and because it presents the kind of soloists who need no elaborate orchestral trappings to set them off to advantage, there is very little chance that any listener with ears for both the past and present can fail to find kicks aplenty throughout these happy, unpretentious, thoroughly Basieistic sides.

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Liner Notes by Stanley Dance

This record presents Count Basie in a fresh and unusual small-band context, one in which he permits himself more freedom than he ordinarily does with his big band. It is a context, however, not without precedent.

In October, 1936, on his way East from Kansas City to his ultimate triumphs in New York, he entered a Chicago studio with a quintet and recorded, among others, two of the titles found here – Shoe Shine Boy and Oh, Lady, Be Good.

His Kansas City Seven was originated three years later, when he recoded with another small section of his band. The band had become world famous in the meantime, and the musicians he chose then were Buck Clayton, Dicky Wells, Lester Young, Freddie Green, Walter Page and Jo Jones. They rode once more in 1944, with Rodney Richardson in place of Walter Page, but it was not until March, 1962, when this album was recorded, that Basie called out the Kansas City Seven again.

Time brought great changes to jazz during those eighteen years, and the changes were inevitably reflected in Count Basie’s band, in its music and in its personnel. His basic policy nevertheless went unchanged, and the emphases remained on swinging, forthright and relatively uncomplicated jazz.

Basie and his guitarist, Freddie Green, are, of course, two of the mostly highly valued constants in the field, and where rhythm is concerned they are among the supreme arbiters. They firmly favor good taste. Humor is permissible in their book, but never the loudly dramatic. They can – and do – push or lift a soloist when necessary, but they are almost unique in their ability to maintain an undercurrent of relaxation in the stormiest of situations.

A deep personal modesty prevents Basie from taking as many solos as most of his admirers wish, but in a setting like this prominence is happily thrust upon him. The very considerable variety in his work is shown most advantageously here, his remarkable sense of time giving to even outwardly simple solos a distinctive flavor of subtlety and wit. The support he brings to the ensembles and other soloists is also naturally more evident in a small group. His accentuations, expressing urgency, emphasis and encouragement, communicate directly with the listener as well as with his musicians. In fact, to follow his role throughout the record is to understand, at least in part, the reason for his long and successful career as a bandleader. That he and Duke Ellington have survived with their bands the many vicissitudes of recent years, while so many others passed from the scene, proves once more that the fittest – the fittest to lead – do indeed survive.

The Music
Oh, Lady, Be Good, the opener, may well arouse nostalgia in those who remember 1936 and what was, for many, Lester Young’s record debut. This version opens in the same way with a piano solo, and the Count sets a superb dance tempo, but this time, unconfined by the limits of the 78 record, he takes two sparkling choruses instead of one. Eric Dixon, latest in the long line of Basie tenor stars, takes the next, swinging easily, while Thad Jones and Frank Foster riff effectively behind him. A chorus by Thad is followed by one from Frank Foster before the final ensemble routine. The take heard here was, incidentally, the only one made. It was the first performance of the session, and Basie and his men felt it was good as they hurried into the control room to hear the playback. When they came out, they were a little incredulous. It seldom happens that the first run-down is satisfactory. “One take – crazy!” said Basie.

Secrets is by Frank Wess, who plays alto flute on it. Thad Jones uses a cup mute throughout and Eric Dixon, who solos after Thad, plays a C flute. The present popularity of the flute in jazz is largely due to Frank Wess, and the opportunity for him to demonstrate his skill on the instrument publicly was first made possible in Basie’s band. Eric Dixon being also a brilliant flute player, Frank Wess borrowed Charlie Fowlkes’ alto flute for this date in order to obtain a color contrast. Although he hadn’t played it before, he has every reason to be satisfied with the results. The ensembles have a crisp delicacy that suggests some kind of lineal descent from the renowned John Kirby combination, and the rhythm section, accustomed to accompanying one of the most powerful big bands in jazz, turns to contemplating the aerial sound of the three horns with noteworthy expertise. A high degree of professionalism is denoted both in the running piano commentary behind the theme statements and in Sonny Payne‘s deft brushwork.

I Want A Little Girl sounds as though it were either well rehearsed or very familiar to the players. In fact, it was neither. The routine was rapidly put together in the studio. Having agreed to play organ on it, Basie had very definite ideas about the interpretation. The versatile Eric Dixon was called upon to play clarinet, Frank Foster to take the tenor interlude, and Thad Jones, who had come without a derby, to produce a crying, wa-wa effect with his harmon mute. A plan for an “outrageously loud” shout section was dropped. “Not enough horns,” said Basie. In the end, the dynamic possibilities were adequately taken care of by the organist. There are many musicians playing jazz on the organ today, but none gets more music out of the instrument than Basie, as this pretty performance surely shows.

Shoe Shine Boy differs in routine and tempo from the 1936 version. The flexible ensembles sound very much of 1962, and in them Thad Jones plays cup-muted trumpet, Eric Dixon C flute, and Frank Foster tenor. The first tenor solo is by Dixon, the second by Foster. Basie enjoyed himself on this session and thought of different introductions for almost every take.

Count’s Place is a Count Basie original, a “head” composed in the studio by the same method as many of his early big-band classics. That is, Basie played first one riff for the horns, then another. When they had tossed them around a bit, he routined the performance, putting the riffs and solos in an artistic sequence. The group nearly had it on the first take. “I want to hear this!” said Basie, striding purposefully toward the control room. A few minor imperfections in dynamics and accentuations were detected. Next take, there was as fine an example of swinging, small-band jazz as had been recorded in many a day. All three horns sound inspired by those propulsive riffs. Eric Dixon makes an effortless entry, swinging from the very first note. Thad takes an imaginative flight, and Frank Foster, in very good form, plays the second tenor solo.

Senator Whitehead is another contribution from Frank Wess, the instrumentation again as on Secrets. The first flute solo is by Dixon, the second by Wess. Note Basie’s quite-witted trill in answer to that of the horns in the course of his solo chorus.

Tally-Ho, Mr. Basie! is another Basie original, built and routined in the studio like the first, but this time around a more familiar figure. In the opening ensembles, Thad Jones plays with a cup mute, Eric Dixon flute and Frank Foster clarinet. For his solo, Frank reverts to tenor, which instrument he and Dixon both play in the last “shout” bars. Toward the end of his solo, Basie makes a bow in the direction of James P. Johnson and Fats Waller.

What’cha Talkin?, as composed and arranged by Thad Jones, is an ingeniously planned blues, the first four bars of which are given a marked measure of independence. Both Frank Wess and Eric Dixon play C flutes on this and their solo sequence is as follows: Wess, four bars; Dixon, eight; Wess, twelve; Dixon, twelve; Wess, twelve. Always famous for his tenor duelists, Basie now had two of the most accomplished flautists in the business as well.

Too little has certainly been said here about Freddie Green, Eddie Jones and Sonny Payne, but they play all the way for the band rather than for themselves. There is a rare unity about their contribution, and an unfailing entente with the combination’s leader and pianist.