Army Times
Tom Scanlan : 03/05/1955

You need not be a “moldy fig” to enjoy the happy, virile, unpretentious jazz by an Eddie Condon all-star group on a new Columbia 12-inch LP (CL 616). Musicians on the record are Billy Butterfield, Wild Bill Davison, Bud Freeman, Lou McGarity, Cutty Cutshall, Ed Hall, Peanuts Hucko, Dick Cary (on alto horn), Gene Schroeder, Al Hall, Cliff Leeman and Condon. Some of the good old tunes played are Blues My Naughty Sweet Gave to Me, How Come You Do Me, When My Sugar Walks Down the Street and I Can’t Believe that You’re in Love With Me.

This LP seems far superior to the similar Condon LP which sold well last year. Everyone involved is in good form, although I think Freeman on tenor sax, Hall on clarinet, and Butterfield on trumpet play extremely well.

It’s a real boot to hear Freeman, a stylist if there ever was one, on record again. Only the most narrow minded jazz enthusiast, who thinks a saxophone should sound only one way, will fail to appreciate the great work of Bud on this LP. And Hall and Butterfield prove once again, throughout this LP, that they are two of the truly great jazz musicians.

On the back of the album you’ll find a complete rundown of soloists, chorus by chorus, as is usual with Columbia’s George Avakian. Other record companies would do well to follow Avakian’s lead in this respect. Such a chorus-by-chorus rundown is invaluable.

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Boston Advertiser
Eddie Condon : 03/13/1955
Complaints Invited on Record Jacket

A couple of weeks ago some complaints were made here concerning the jacket art the record companies were publishing.

Anybody who wants to complain about the jacket of a Columbia LP called Jammin’ at Condon’s is welcome to go ahead.

This jacket features Cliff Leeman‘s right calf. Cliff used to play the drums at Condon’s, but departed to play on the Hit Parade and other lucrative TV shows.

I may have a bit of trouble reviewing this record, because I was present. So were: Wild Bill Davison, cornet; Billy Butterfield, trumpet; Cutty Cutshall and Lou McGarity on the trombones; Ed Hall and Peanuts Hucko on the clarinets; Dick Cary on the alto horn; Bud Freeman on the tenor saxophone; Al Hall on bass; Gene Schroeder. George Avakian was in charge of all this.

The name of the guitarist is on the label, too.

He supplied another member, a Mr. Chivas Regal, who turned out to be a welcome addition, although easily exhausted.

We did There’ll Be Some Changes Made, How Come You Do Me Like You Do, Tin Roof Blues and several others.

If you can’t et something done with this strolling group you might as well retire.

Incidentally, George Avakian explains all the jokes on the label.

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Coos Bay Times
Unknown : 07/27/1955

Eddie Condon and His All-Stars have jammed up a few ditties on a big one called Jammin’ at Condon’s. Eddie has been a real jump man before Hector had pups and the cats have been dragging into his place for quite a spell (having his own layout in the East.) Although this was a studio session, it sounds like it could have been right off his own floor. Condon’s the boy that can give Dixie a real fine whirl, too. At times the repetitive phrasing dulls up a bit but on the whole, even with part of the crew pickup, it’s a listen. The jacket breaks down individual chorusing on each number for ear-happy characters.

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San Francisco Chronicle
Ralph J. Gleason : 04/12/1955

Eddie Condon, who has given up the guitar (did he EVER really play it?) for the roll of caller in the happy ensembles of Dixieland, has a new Columbia 12-inch LP, Jammin’ at Condon’s that is first-rate Dixieland. The Condon All-Stars, whom he calls “strolling players,” participate, with noteworthy solos from Al Hall, Bud Freeman and Wild Bill Davidson. There’s a delightful informality about the whole thing, and once I thought I heard the twang of a guitar. Might have been Condon, at that.

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Down Beat : 02/23/1955
Nat Hentoff : 4 stars

A happily robust George Avakian production that results in one of the best Condon-style free-for-alls ever put on record. The cast includes Wild Bill Davison, Billy Butterfield, Cutty Cutshaw, Lou McGarity, Dick Cary (on alto horn this time), Ed Hall, Peanuts Hucko, the too-seldom-recorded Bud Freeman, Gene Schroeder, Al Hall, and Cliff Leeman. It’s a lively debate throughout and among the highlights is Butterfield’s Louis-tribute in How Come. Passing comments by Commodore Condon are included.

Recording quality is excellent as is Herman Leonard’s tender cover photograph. Avakian’s notes contain his invaluable trademark for sessions of this sort: a clear breakdown of personnel by choruses.

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Liner Notes by George Avakian

Eddie Condon is an institution on several levels, one of which is represented by the saloon graced by his name. In a city where the East Side is considered fashionable, it is fitting that the somewhat Bohemian Mr. Condon locate his bistro at the easternmost edge of Greenwich Village. Two doors further east, in fact, and Eddie would be ruled out of bounds by even the most charitable interpreter of the Village’s misty boundaries.

This album started out in terms of what might happen if the regular house band at Eddie’s place were joined by a few convivial friends some evening. Some structural theories of mine were introduced, and for purposes of technical quality and general control the locale remains Columbia’s 30th Street studio, but otherwise the informality of “jammin’ at Condon’s” remains.

In the libretto appended to these remarks you will find references to a “house ensemble” and a “visitors ensemble.” This is as easy a way as any to differentiate between the permanent residents and the guests who dropped in. The rhythm section remains the same, but the front lines shift like this: the “house ensemble” has Wild Bill Davison, Cutty Cutshall, and Edmond Hall; the “visitors” are Billy Butterfield, Lou McGarity, and Peanuts Hucko. Of the two additional soloists who also stopped by, Bud Freeman‘s tenor sax is heard in solos, backgrounds, and on a couple of the visitors’ ensembles as well; Dick Cary plays alto horn solos and joins some of the riffs in How Come You Do Me and I Can’t Believe.

Changes Made is a long-time favorite of the Chicago Alumni Association, of which Eddie is a founding father along with Bud Freeman. (For a fuller explanation, we refer you to Columbia’s Chicago Style Jazz album, CL 632.) The treatment is something a bit different from what the boys used to do to this tune in Chicago. The first three choruses are taken in slow half-time, which makes them only 16 bars long. Then Cliff Leeman belts out a four-bar break and the visitors come piling in at the familiar tempo with the tune stretched into its customary 32-bar form.

How Come You Do Me seemed to be a good vehicle for extended treatment, thanks particularly to the wide-open breaks which are possible. You can hear Condon directing traffic on this one; the reference to Lake Placid when Dick Cary hooks a shot does not pertain to the celebrated sanitarium, but merely to the fact that Dick had to rush back there for a job as soon as the date was over. Louis Armstrong fans, incidentally, will get a special kick out of Billy Butterfield’s solo, which is something of a tribute to the old master.

Oh yes, one more thing – Eddie’s comment at the end of the piece (“Nothing like a strolling group”) is sure to bring a flood of letters if we don’t explain it now. (I’m sure Condon will regard this gesture as only one step removed from explaining a shaggy dog story, but after all he isn’t the one who has to answer the mail here at the shop.) A strolling group is an old-time musician’s term for a pick-up band. Bud Freeman’s coda with the ensemble is a real wild-eyed job, such as might emerge from a bunch of guys who is just got together for the occasion (as indeed these lads did). It broke Eddie up, but when we played it back he agreed that it didn’t quite fall into the safety net.

Blues started off the second of the two sessions which produced this collection; it was a perfect warm-up tune, with everybody getting in a lick. The boys merely played it once through for size and then made this perfect take.

Among 1954’s more improbable occurrences was the emergence of the New Orleans Rhythm Kings as hit-tune writers. The song was Make Love To Me, better known to jazz buffs as Tin Roof Blues, although followers of the old King Oliver band will take you one step further by playing you the Oliver recording of Jazzin’ Babies Blues. Anyway, this was excuse enough to list Tin Roof for the exercises at home. In honor of George Brunies, the trombonist of the NORK, whose original solo became a fixture for all later trombone solos on this number, Lou McGarity takes the first two solo choruses, but he avoids quoting anything from Brunies. The next-to-last ensemble is a strain which is an addition to the original two strains, and nobody knows just who started putting it in – but it appears to be derived from the same folk blues on which W.C. Handy based the first strain of his Aunt Hagar’s Blues.

An up-tempo medley with an abrupt key change in the middle is something I’ve always wanted to try, and fortunately Eddie is always willing to take a chance with me on change-of-pace ideas. This one sets some sort of world’s record for the number of words in a two-song medley, but it also jams a lot of music into five minutes and thirty-eight seconds. No fewer than six of its twelve choruses are of the “chase” variety – that is to say, two or more musicians alternate in playing a given number of bars throughout a chorus. The first two chase choruses are on a 16-bar tune Sugar Walks Down the Street, and the soloists change off every four bars. After Ed Hall makes the key change into Can’t Believe, there are two chases of alternating 8 bars, and then two choruses in a row with eight men taking part in a series of 4-bar phrases. See your local newspaper for time and station.