Cashbox : 11/03/1956

This package has already made a strong appearance on the charts. Little wonder. Two sturdy entertainers are coupled in some rare moments of beautiful jazz duets. Ella Fitzgerald‘s liquid delivery matched with Armstrong‘s throaty wanderings may seem like mixing oil and water, but the pair blend with charm and feeling in the set’s collection of evergreens. Excellent support from the Oscar Peterson Trio. Ella and Louis adorn the package effectively. Sales, as noted before, should be chart news for some time to come.

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Arizona Daily Star
Shirley Appleman : 09/30/1956

Describing a voice accurately can be a tough job and of course no two people hear a voice the same way or react the same way, but Ella Fitzgerald‘s magnificent voice affects us as particularly plush midnight-blue velvet. She never sounded better than she does in a new Verve album called Ella and Louis and the Louis of course is “Satchmo” Armstrong.

Backing up this top twosome are four of jazzdom’s finest musicians, Oscar Peterson, piano; Herb Ellis, guitar; Ray Brown (Ella’s husband), bass, and Buddy Rich, drums.

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Army Times
Tom Scanlan : 10/27/1956

The word “great” is probably tossed around too frequently in jazz circles, but it is fact, not opinion, to say that Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong are two of the greatest jazz singers ever.

If you have doubts on this matter, I suggest you hear a new LP called simply Ella and Louis (Verve 4003). It is one of the best vocal records of this or any other year.

Happily, there is no brass section or string section in the background. It’s just Louis and Ella singing up a storm backed by the propelling beat of the Oscar Peterson Trio and drummer Buddy Rich.

If the LP contained only Can’t We Be Friends it would be worth the price. This one rocks mightily. Of the ten other standards included, Ella and Louis are in especially good form on Cheek to Cheek, Nearness of You and April in Paris.

The unsigned essay on the back of the album is well worth your attention and the cover is one of the most refreshing I’ve seen in sometime. No fashion models, no way out modern art, not even any lettering. Just a good picture of Ella and Louis.

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High Fidelity
John S. Wilson : December, 1956

Ella Fitzgerald has never, to my knowledge, sung so well on records as she does on this disk. The impersonal quality characteristic of so much of her recording is completely absent here. Instead, we get the warm purity of tone and the easy tightness of phrasing that are her own personal hallmarks. The material is ideally suited to her lyric talents; the accompaniment by Oscar Peterson‘s trio and the occasional trumpet obbligatos by Louis Armstrong are perfect complements to her singing. The recording is exceptionally good too.

Armstrong as singer shows up rather badly on some of the numbers; slow-ballad tempo gives him trouble. But when the beat picks up (Can’t We Be Friends, They Can’t Take That Away From Me, Cheek to Cheek), he is in his element. An atmosphere of geniality hovers about these performances that easily offsets minor lapses.

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New York Daily News
Douglas Watt : 10/28/1956

Pairing Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong didn’t turn out to be such a good idea – for Satch, anyway. Ella sings as mellifluously as ever, getting flatting backing from the Oscar Peterson Trio in a brace of leisurely standards. But Louis’ winningly scratchy voice and proud trumpet are dragged down by the tempos and heard to disadvantage against the slick stylings of the other participants.

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Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
Win Fanning : 10/15/1956

Greatest jazz LP in years is the new Verve disc, by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. The titleless cover just shows Miss Fitzgerald and Satchmo sitting side by side. This is FAME in every sense of the word. This is also a combination of talent I’m sure even Mr. Beethoven could dig.

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Pittsburgh Sun-Telegraph
Leonard Mendlowitz : 10/20/1956

An album that can’t miss the best-selling lists is the new Verve LP called Ella and Louis. That could mean only Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, and their teaming is little short of inspired.

Although the new LP is a notch or two below Ella’s recent Cole Porter venture, Ella and Louis is still a sock collection of a dozen tunes, given new distinction by the sheer artistry of its stars.

Some of the selections are solos and others are duets, but regardless, it’s a rich and rewarding treat to hear these two pros wham over such standards as Can’t We Be Friends, Isn’t This a Lovely Day, Moonlight in Vermont, They Can’t Take That Away From Me, Tenderly, A Foggy Day, The Nearness of You, and Stars Fell on Alabama.

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Playboy Magazine : January, 1957

Ella and Louis (Verve 4003), who could be none other than Fitzgerald and Armstrong, mingle pipes and passivity in a packet of pretty standards that includes the likes of Foggy Day, Moonlight in Vermont and Stars Fell on Alabama. Joyfully, Ella bears most of the vocal brunt, while Louie clears his throat from time to time and interjects some noodling trumpet counterpoint in the background (aided by simpatico cats Oscar Peterson, Ray Brown and Herb Ellis). Out of it all glides some deliciously romantic, jazz-flavored stuff for toast-warm fireside moments. Miss Fitzgerald – as ever – doles out her lyrics with a palms-up purity that is the wonder of our age: it is impossible for the effortless Ella to err.

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Sacramento Bee
William C. Glackin : 11/15/1956

It would be pretty easy to make out a case for Ella Fitzgerald as the greatest jazz singer America has produced, but there is hardly any need: Ella makes out a much better case every time she opens her mouth. Miss Fitzgerald is just plain genius – a remarkable combination of simplicity and brilliance, surging human warmth and a thoughtful consideration of musical and verbal values. Plus a sense of humor.

But anybody’s list of jazz singers would also rank Louis Armstrong very high, in his own gravelly, inimitable, irrepressible way, for Louis’ singing has always been as inseparable from his trumpet playing as it has been similar to it, and on both wings he has flown his way to the topmost position in the all time canon of jazz artists.

It is incredibly that nobody has ever put these two together on a record before, but now Norman Granz has done it, on a 12 inch, long playing Verve disc called Ella and Louis, and it is one of the most wonderful things of its kind ever made.

Swinging now lightly, now solidly, treating the songs with affectionate care and occasional humor, this great pair works its way through 11 fine standards.

The results are a joy to hear. Armstrong’s trumpet is occasionally far from his best, but the singing is the main point, and it all comes out with superb success.

Granz has provided the ideal backing in the Oscar Peterson trio, augmented by an admirably unobtrusive Buddy Rich on drums, and while they stay pretty well in the background throughout, Peterson’s piano has a notable chance to shine in April in Paris, one of the best things on the record. It is full of such highlights, however, and anybody with a phonograph who doesn’t acquire it is missing a memorable experience. The album notes, by the way, are unusually well written and deserve a byline.

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San Francisco Chronicle
Ralph J. Gleason : 10/28/1956

This is one of the most enjoyable LPs of the month – a delightful merging of two great talents. Ella and Louis sing duets, solos and kid around. Now and then, Louis plays some trumpet. The tunes include a marvelous Cheek to Cheek and Can’t We Be Friends? The cover is just wonderful, too. Highly recommended.

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Variety
Mike Gross : 10/10/1956

Cover of this new Verve package is just a photo of Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong without any identifying tag. They don’t need any. Their faces are as familiar as their style and their styles complement each other perfectly. Set is done in a moderate and restrained jazz groove that shows ’em off in duets, or Armstrong’s muted trumpeting to Miss Fitzgerald’s singing, or Miss Fitzgerald’s humming to Armstrong’s open horn blowing. Whatever road they take to bring home the standards, it’s all done in top showmanly style. The Oscar Peterson Trio gives the stars solid musical support.

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Washington Post
Paul Sampson : 10/28/1956

Two of the greatest jazz singers – Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong – combine their enormous talent on a Verve LP, Ella and Louis. It’s a wonderful record.

The singing – warmly lyrical, always moving – fairly glows. Although their voice qualities are different (a massive understatement), Ella and Louis share a deceptively simple conception, a genius at phrasing and a sure sense of rhythm. In their delightful duets (Stars Fell on Alabama, for example), Ella soars airily above Louis’ rough foundation.

The songs, though familiar, are new to Louis and give him the badly needed chance to sing first-rate material. They are perfectly suited to Ella – her Moonlight in Vermont is breathtakingly beautiful. Other outstanding numbers are April in Paris, Tenderly, and They Can’t Take That Away From Me.

The Oscar Peterson Trio plus Buddy Rich provides perceptive accompaniment, and when Louis adds his trumpet, he proves he still is a master at backing a singer.

To complete the near-perfect picture, the sound is excellent. This one is essential.

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Windsor Star
Matt Dennis : 12/15/1956

For the discerning disc collector who appreciates top-flight performances by distinguished artists, a treasured gift would be the new longplay waxing on the Verve label aptly titled Ella and Louis. This is one of the very few albums that is sure to be a collector’s item and a brief listen to the work of Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong proves to be a delight to every jazz fan. Miss Fitzgerald sings with a clarity and wholeness of sound and a mastery of phrasing that could be a lesson to aspiring girl vocalists. Louis himself as the jazz artist he is and his trumpet solos are some of the best he has ever recorded. Moonlight in Vermont, Under a Blanket of Blue, They Can’t Take That From Me, Tenderly, and Stars Fell on Alabama are samples of the numbers presented. There is a brilliant performance featuring Louis’ horn behind Ella’s eloquent style on April in Paris.

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Down Beat : 11/14/1956
Nat Hentoff : 5 stars

Ella and Louis is one of the very, very few albums to have been issued in this era of the LP flood that is sure to endure for decades. Ella, to start with, is superb. There is a purity of style (with no loss of warmth) in her singing here that results in not the slightest furbelow. Everything fits and flows with a pulsating inevitability, a clarity and wholeness of sound, and a supple mastery of phrasing that should make this album daily listening for all aspiring female singers.

Louis, for this one adventure anyway, has been liberated from his sadly deteriorating combo (I except Edmond Hall from that blanket description). Without the circus backdrop, without associates who laugh by rote, and above all, without the dragging chains of Barrett Deems, Louis can breathe himself into full stature again. He reminds any who have forgotten that he is the nonpareil male jazz singer.

The exaggerated tooth-shaking of the lyrics is minimized by Louis here since the context is musically adult, and the clowning doesn’t fit. The material, moreover, is superior to much of the dress (not counting the jazz standards) he usually sings.

As a result of the fact that he hasn’t sung many of these songs for years, the challenge awakens the whole musician in Louis; and because the melodies and the lyrics are fresh to him, there are no pat routines for him to fall into. Hearing him here is a joy; and hearing him interweave horn and voice with Ella is often euphoria.

His horn in solo and behind Ella is always eloquent (hear April in Paris), but there is some diminution at times in fullness of tone. This is a man, however, who has already worn his lips in several lifetimes of continuous playing.

The rhythm accompaniment by Oscar Peterson, Ray Brown, Herb Ellis, and Buddy Rich is firm, tasteful, discreet. This is a major achievement of recorded jazz. Norman Granz, too, deserves an italicized credit line.

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Liner Notes by Unknown

Jazz, unlike a bucket of nails, is full of paradoxes. There is, for example, the iconoclasm of the soloist having to mess with collective improvisation. There is also, for lack of a better term, the business of jazz singing. Jazz, of course, began a good century ago as a vocal music. Yet, it has become increasingly clear with the diminishing of the great blues shouters and the general shifting of the center of the music to an instrumental bias that vocal jazz is, with few possible exceptions, an extraordinarily difficult form that offers one possible advantage: it’s easier to carry a voice around than a bass fiddle. In fact, the one definable tradition of jazz singing is probably blues singing. The rest of jazz singing has for some time been in the scattered, dissimilar hands of people who have persisted without the backrest of tradition. Among male singers – who have not, by and large, had the prowess of female jazz singers – there have been Leo Watson, the remarkable scat singer whose word-streams formed a series of harsh, cubistic dreams of birds, Chicago, and big bass drums; Jelly Roll Morton, a great jazz singer whose soft, thin, barreling voice still retains on his records an urgent poignancy, and his semi-followers, Clancy Hayes and Turk Murphy; Lips Page; Jack Teagarden, his voice good burlap; Nat King Cole, who developed a casual, suede approach; and, finally, Louis Armstrong. Among the women, there have been, outside of the early blues singers, two, or possibly three principal figures – Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, and Mildred Baily – and alongside them, as well as stemming from them, such as Anita O’Day and Sarah Vaughan.

In recent years, the ranks of female jazz singers, though swelling daily, have been peopled by little more than handsome, leggy dilutions. But Ella, has, for one reason and another, remained the most vigorous and ineffable singer in jazz and popular music. Her style was virtually set by the time she began professionally in the Thirties with Chick Webb. It was a rhythmical, agile, humorous way of singing that depended on a healthy, rather ordinary voice; a lack of useless ornamentations); a direct and understanding delivery of lyrics (again, most young singers handle lyrics as if they were sucking mothballs); and a musicianship that enabled her to get away from the melody in a way that any composer would have been proud had he thought of it originally. It has, nevertheless, become more subtle, more flexible, more polished, and recently has manifested a luminous lyricism that it is not apparent so much in its single parts as in the whole. She gives the impression today of the finished artist whose seams no longer show, whose approach is stable but exciting, and whose mind is in balance with the heart.

Louis Armstrong, on the other hand, has retained the insuperable singing style he worked with out of the late Thirties. There is less of the whooping, shoveling quality in his voice, which has, like rough waters, inevitably smoothed down, but the great singing foundation is apparent, particularly in the way he approaches ballads. And what great warmth and soul! What his voice has always been is an indication of how jazz singing could go. Louis invariably handles melody like a bear giving a hug; he smothers it in the peculiarities of his voice and enunciation, and out pops a new shape – a kind of counter-melody, dressed, nevertheless, in tweeds and pearls.

Unfortunately, of late, Louis has confined himself almost exclusively to remaking blues of an earlier age and pedestrian popular songs so that each impression was but a fainter and dimmer carbon of the original great talent. This record gives Louis a chance at restoration. The materials are a judicious choice of high-level standards. And instead of his usual, diffident Dixieland backing, there are the Oscar Peterson Trio (Ray Brown on bass and Herb Ellis on guitar), plus Buddy Rich, who are properly pulsive and wholly discreet. In such a palmy setting, Armstrong is in simple, unraffish condition, and Ella is in impeccable voice. The record is full of pleasant inventions: Louis, muted, behind Ella; Ella humming behind Louis’ open horn; Ella and Louis in duet and a kind of near-counterpoint; Louis singing the verse of a song with such great feeling; Ella mimicking Louis; and always, the contrast – of the rough and the fairway – of two remarkable voices and talents. A quiet, Sunday-go-to-meeting record, with slow and middle tempos throughout, (that, however, never stop swinging), it creates the sort of jazz that is pensive, rich, and rewarding.