Billboard : 12/02/1957
Score of 77

A relaxed blowing session with plenty of room for participants H. Mobley, L. Donaldson, D. Byrd, etc., to spread out. Only three tunes in set, two of them of the mood/jazz variety. Smith reiterates fact that he is only organist on scene who can validly turn instrument’s variety of orchestral sounds to jazz. However, it is altoist Lou Donaldson who steals the spotlight.

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Cashbox : 12/07/1957

The jazz organist is heard with an all star accompaniment on the second volume of the waxing. Jimmy Smith displays his complete masterage of the Hammond as he and Don Byrd (trumpet), Lou Donaldson (alto sax), Art Blakey and Don Bailey (drums), Hank Mobley (tenor sax) and Eddie McFadden (guitar), offer their improvisations on three items including Groovy Date. Set’s top name value should insure a strong sales reception from jazz buffs.

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Audio Magazine
Charles A. Robertson : March, 1958

The second part of the session which pairs Jimmy Smith and his Hammond organ with an instrumental quintet goes on the credit side of the ledger for Lou Donaldson. His poignant alto sax on Ellington’s I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart, and the ballad I’m Getting Sentimental Over You, sets the mood for the others to follow. It lasts until Hank Mobley brings his tenor sax into play on an up-tempo Groovy Date, an enthusiastic swinger with solos for all to give expression to their sentiments about this unusual date. Smith again displays some intriguing uses of the electronic organ, and drummer Art Blakey proves his versatility by adapting to the odd combination. The Ellington tune fills one side and includes a solo by guitarist Eddie McFadden.

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Metronome
Bill Coss : January, 1958

Volume two with trumpeter Donald Byrd, tenorist Hank Mobley, altoist Lou Donaldson, organist Smith, guitarist Eddie McFadden, and drummer Art Blakey playing two standards and one original. One whole side is taken up with I Let a Song Go Out Of My Heart. The other standard and the original are on side two, the former having solos only by Donaldson and Smith, which by the process of elimination, makes it a “groovy” date, there is frequently much ado about nothing, especially from the horns. Jimmy plays well in that particular funky groove which he has made his own on organ.

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Saturday Review
Wilder Hobson : 12/28/1957

Some years ago, I think, I referred to the way in which history so often endows pipe organists with names which suit their mighty machines. Some organists, of course, are simply styled. The name Carl Weinrich might perfectly well suggest a second trumpet or a green grocer. Charles M. Courboin might describe a simple avocat. On the other hand, one would scarcely expect a man named Melchiorre Mauro-Cottone to play the ocarina or hang out his shingle as a foot doctor. He is clearly at the pipe organ. So is Sidney Dark. So is T. Tertius Noble. So is the most organic name of them all—S. Gordon Thunder—a name which rolls so appropriately through the nave that I sometimes think I must have invented it. But I did not.

When it comes to the Hammond organ, that relatively modest instrument which can easily be installed in the common parlor or roadhouse, one would not hope to find such resonant names at the console. Indeed, in view of the use many Hammond players make of the tremulously sentimental possibilities of their device, one might suppose them to be named Renfrew or Hyacinthe. The best Hammond player I have heard in jazz (eclipsing for me even the late Fats Waller and Count Basie) is Jimmy Smith. Disdaining volume and schmalz, he uses the organ with great tact and reserve, with insinuating sustained chords under the horns, brisk “comping” (the modern jazz term for rhythmic chordal accompaniment) and an occasional sharp punctuation in an acid timbre that has an electric effect. In short, he treats the organ not as a box of multi-colored moanings and heavings, but as a discreetly supporting and propulsive part of a jazz band. In his newest LP, A Date With Jimmy Smith (Blue Note 1548), he works mostly behind and underneath some of the best men in the vigorous modern New York school: Donald Byrd, trumpet; Lou Donaldson, alto sax; Hank Mobley, tenor sax; Art Blakey, drums; plus a warmly delightful, unfamiliar guitarist, Eddie McFadden. One entire side of this record is given over to a splendid middle tempo exploration of Duke Ellington’s I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart.

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Down Beat : 03/06/1958
Don Gold : 3.5 stars

If I’m correct, this is Smith’s sixth LP for Blue Note. It is Vol. 2 of his first session with horns for that label.

The results are pleasant, generally speaking. Donaldson plays with Bird-driven force; it’s good to hear his voice. Byrd shows some signs of wear, in terms his record date schedule, but manages to play creatively most of the time. Mobley’s playing here makes more sense for me than several of his past performances. McFadden’s warmth manages to penetrate the organ-plus-horns wall. And Blakey, believe it or not, churns without overflowing.

Smith flutters and wows his way. Song occupies side one. Sentimental, a relatively brief track, and Date, consume side two. On Song, Smith contributes a pulsating walking bass line; that’s a literal definition. He and Donaldson combine on Sentimental, with the other horns remaining poised for Date. Sentimental, by the way, is taken at an honest-to-goodness ballad tempo. Mobley’s Date is a return to up-tempo. It marks a new degree of expediency in blowing session presentations – there is no statement of the theme by unison horns to open the track; Donaldson merely begins. A brief unison close is thrown in, however, to pacify those who need some sort of thematic orientation.

Smith makes the most of the Hammond, which has a kind of enveloping bass gurgle. The sound of the instrument often overcomes Blakey’s efforts, which is unqualified testimony in behalf of the strength of the instrument. As a jazz creator, and a meaningful one, Smith is hampered by the oppressive sound of the instrument. I’d like to hear him play piano.

I’d like to see a trifle more organization in session of this nature, too. It seems to me that one can plan a record date without inhibiting the participants. But, in its own terms, this is a reasonably cooking meeting of modern sounds.

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Liner Notes by Ira Gitler

When it comes to the subject of ability in concealing moods and emotions, people fall into two general categories. There are those who may be feeling miserable but still are able to effectively shield their true feelings; there are others who telegraph their moods in an overt manner, without ever alluding to them verbally, no matter how hard they try to convince everyone of the opposite.

Musicians fall into these categories until they pick up their instruments; then, there is no hiding place for the emotions. Of course, the mood of the music they play dictates the emotion to be called forth but the way the musician is feeling at the time will still hold precedence. This mood will often have much to do with the choosing of the tunes.

A Date with Jimmy Smith is the result of a meeting between the top organist in modern jazz and some of the best contemporary horn soloists; a meeting further enhanced by a new guitar stylist and the dynamic percussion of a master.

That this was a “groovy” date, as stated by Hank Mobley’s original of the same name, is self evident in the way it listens. The cats wanted to blow with Jimmy and a blowing session it is. Everyone speaks out full and strong with conviction of the thought that “It’s great to be here and blowing on this date.” No emotional hide and seek here; it’s as if the feelings are in relief right on the vinyl. Try Jimmy’s blues, Funk’s Oats, for size.

For the underlying power present on this date, we must look to Jimmy Smith and Art Blakey.

Smith is a man not only of high skill but of great taste. With a power plant like the Hammond under one’s fingers there is the temptation to roar away all the time and some organists do. Jimmy can roar (ex: The Champ in BLP 1514) when he wants to but there is so much more to the organ and his combination of talent and taste has allowed him to explore and present many of its possibilities. This is his first album with horns and in his camping he shows his sensitivity to the needs of the horn soloist. At times he camps in a soft and punching manner, at other times hard punching or then again he will spread his chords out to sound like a band behind the hornman.

Blakey’s drums have one of the most lifting, joyous pulses in jazz. The aggregate of this beat, the bass line as played by Jimmy’s feet and the aforementioned camping is a source of endless vitality throughout the entire session.

The horns, alto sax, trumpet and tenor sax are manned by Lou Donaldson, Donald Byrd and Hank Mobley respectively. Through their many noteworthy appearances on the Blue Note label, all modern jazz fans have come to know them well. All three have appeared in person with the various groups that drummer Art Blakey has headed and are most prominent on the New York scene.

A name and sound that will be unfamiliar to most of you, however, is that of Eddie McFadden, the regular guitarist with the Jimmy Smith trio since January of 1957. Eddie, born in Baltimore on August 6, 1928, did his studying in Philadelphia at the Granoff and Landers music schools for three years. A professional for nine years, he was originally inspired to play guitar when he heard Oscar Moore with the The King Cole Trio at a USO show in San Francisco in 1946. He feels that while technique is important, soul, swing and thinking are more so. His pensive, hornlike style is excellent throughout but perhaps stands out in How High The Moon, the only trio number, all the more. Eddie’s favorites, in addition to his original influence Moore, are Charlie Christian and John Collins.

BLP 1547

Volume One of A Date with Jimmy Smith begins with an extended version of Falling in Love With Love. Byrd and Donaldson split the assignment of carrying the theme and then, beginning with Mobley, everyone gets a chance to stretch out. Blakey enters for some exchanges with the horns before the close.

A groovy How High The Moon closes out the first side. There was one time in the Forties when this tune was overplayed but then it went out of vogue and has been more or less neglected ever since. Here the trio, with Jimmy’s regular drummer Donald Bailey replacing Blakey, treats it at a tempo new to the Moon.

The entire second side is filled with Funk’s Oats, a riff blues by Jimmy with solos by Donaldson (dig the Sabre Dance bit), Mobley, McFadden and Smith himself. Jimmy’s driving type of swing and intensity of feeling are especially acute here.

BLP 1548

Lou Donaldson’s plaintive statement of Duke Ellington’s I Let A Song Go Out Of My Heart opens Volume Two. Byrd and Mobley are the first two soloists. Each has sections of double-time, instigated by Blakey, in their portions. McFadden with his soft and warm style is next and Lou plays a heartfelt, extremely moving solo before Jimmy comes in. Notice Jimmy’s fantastic basswork with his feet during this stint. After Lou carries the theme out with Hank’s help on the bridge, Jimmy returns for an unaccompanied variation on the theme.

Side Two features Donaldson and Smith as the only soloists on I’m Getting Sentimental Over You. This ballad has been uptempoed by several of our modern jazzmen in recent years. Here it is rendered closer to the original tempo.

Hank Mobley’s summing up of everyone’s feeling about the session. Groovy Date, closes things out. A “Rhythm type” swinger with sales by all and four bar exchanges between Blakey and the three horns.