Asbury Park Press
Don Lass : 12/07/1963

Desmond, long the key soloist with the Dave Brubeck Quartet, is joined here by superb guitarist Jim Hall for a relaxed set of eight tunes. The collaboration results in a delicate, highly lyrical form of jazz, for these men are of the same gentle persuasion. The empathy is particularly noticeable in the many passages where Desmond’s soft-toned alto saxophone lines weave in and out of Hall’s tender guitar statements. Neither man is a musical extrovert but there is a subtle drive in everything they play.

Desmond’s work throughout is much like his playing with Brubeck – fluently flowing with a sharp rhythmic edge. it is Hall, however, who gives the album its distinction. He responds to Desmond’s statements with a probing, intense fervor that still retains its lyric charm. Four of the tunes here are treated with a Latin bossa nova beat while Take Ten is another excursion in 5-4 time (as on Brubeck’s Take Five and others). The One I Love, Alone Together, and Nancy are, of course, standards and each is played beautifully. The latter is a classic in lyricism. Connie Kay, drums, and Gene Cherico or Gene Wright, bass, provide the unobtrusive but vital rhythm.

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Birmingham, England Evening Mail
Fred Norris : 02/18/1964

Paul Desmond represents a style of jazz that is poles apart from the that of Mr. Hooker. Yet the blues are inherent in his playing.

That is what makes him a good jazzman.

The alto saxophonist from the Dave Brubeck Quartet who once staggered himself and everyone else by making a “pop” hit with his composition Take Five, now comes up with Taken Ten.

It is the sort of album that takes 10 out of 10 for pleasure.

It is not, as the title might suggest, another study in time signatures, even though the opening item is in 10-8 time.

Apart from such standards as Nancy and The One I Love, the fascination lies with Mr. Desmond’s delightful Bossa Nova evocations.

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Kansas City Call
Albert Anderson : 12/06/1963

Desmond scores both as a leader and soloist here. .. His notes are clean and uncluttered, and his improvisation ingenious. … He is particularly spirited and artful on the title tune, but he also shines on Nancy and The One I Love, when he is both lyrical and imaginative. … The set is not all Desmond’s, however, as Wright‘s bass work is intelligent, and Hall‘s guitar playing is toneful. … The top tune is Nancy, but Together is also tough. … A big entry for the ex-Brubeck sideman.

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Richmond Times-Dispatch
Rowe : 12/15/1963

Modern jazz fands hereabouts have obtained a measure of musical ecstasy with the playback of a somewhat new LP titled Taken Ten. The fact that Brubeck’s alto sax man was featured left me disenchanted – until I discovered the great guitarist that is Jim Hall also was in the act.

And then, itchy curiosity surmounted my anti-Brubeck sentiments and I listened to both sides of Take Ten and reached this conclusion:

Paul Desmond is quite an instrumental artist when off the orbit of Brubeck. The LP makes it apparent he and Jim Hall can do better as a team than Desmond can do if he continues his far-fetching musical partnership with Dave Brubeck.

There’s a display of good musicianship and showmanship involved as Desmond and Hall are joined by Gene Cherico‘s bass and Connie Kay‘s drums.

What’s more, the album notes by Desmond are a delightful departure from the usual.

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San Francisco Examiner
Richard Hadlock : 10/20/1963

Paul Desmond, perhaps the best known jazz altoist in the country these days, has a new album of his own, Take Ten. Again, there’ no mistaking the delicate, winsome sound of this jazzman.

Unlike the full-throated altoists of the big band years, Desmond developed in an era of small jazz bands and can get away with a more retiring sound. His highly personal melodic inventions are his real trademark, however, and in this set Desmond’s engaging improvisations are enhanced by the guitar playing of Jim Hall.

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Vancouver, BC Province
The Music Man : 11/23/1963

“Charming” is not an easy word to apply to a jazz performer in this day and age of hard blowing and musical overstatement.

It is, however, the word I have returned to time and time again in trying to describe the sounds made by alto saxophonist Paul Desmond, who believes that restraint and understatement can be used to create pleasurable jazz.

Desmond is, of course, a member of the Dave Brubeck quartet, and the thought of that unit without his services is like trying to imagine Stan Laurel without Oliver Hardy.

At least once a year, however, Desmond cuts whatever umbilical cords binds him to Brubeck and records an LP with other jazz musicians.

His latest effort in this direction is entitled Take Ten, and it is well worth purchasing as an example of the “cool” vein, which seems to be diminishing slowly on the jazz scene.

I wish more people could be persuaded that the reserve and self-control which musicians like Desmond use as a foundation for their work does not denote a lack of emotional content and jazz feeling.

The reflective statement, the calm assurance which characterizes Desmond’s work merely renders into a different, and often more attractive form, the head and depth of feeling that the hard-toned instrumentalists tend to wear openly as a badge of honor.

One very real improvement on the latest Desmond LP is the sound of his horn. Because he is often recorded in the concert hall with the Brubeck quartet, Desmond’s tone tends to come across as a thin, piping sound.

The Victor engineers have given us what is probably the real Desmond tone – a thing of dense and fluid beauty.

Desmond is aided and abetted beautifully on Take Ten by guitarist Jim Hall, who bears listening to again and again.

The album is also enlivened by a humorous and light-hearted set of liner notes by Desmond. If they fail to explain the music in any depth they are a considerable improvement over some of the coy and tortured prose which often finds its way into print on the back of record envelopes.

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Down Beat : 11/23/1963
John S. Wilson : 4 stars

The temptation is to give this album five stars, not so much for the performances by Desmond‘s quartet (which are four-star quality, as noted above) but for the liner notes. Written by Desmond, they are a wonderfully witty blend of amiable humor and rapier-sharp comment.

His comment operates on several different levels – the open and apparent, the in-group remark, and some things that are stated so proactively that the comment may reside only in the reader’s mind. He writes that “I’m this saxophone player from the Dave Brubeck Quartet,” a choice of words that gives one pause – “from” the Dave Brubeck quartet, not “in” or “of.” Is this a revelation that, like some other observers, he thinks of himself as something apart from the Brubeck quartet? In any event, his notes set a new standard for saying some meaningful things in an interesting way in a field that has not been noted for being either meaningful or interesting.

The music itself is quite Desmondian – self-possessed, neatly tuned, and lovely in cameo fashion. The tendency is toward understatement, a habit that suits Desmond admirably in the Brubeck quartet, where there is the counterbalance of Brubeck’s tendency to overstatement. Here, however, with Hall in the counterbalancing role, the low-keyed style becomes a bit oppressive. Hall develops sinew in some of his solos, which helps, but Desmond holds almost completely to a middle area of playing that is often soothing but rarely gripping.

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Liner Notes by Paul Desmond

This space is usually occupied, as most hardened record collectors know, by the prose stylings of George Avakian. I’m taking his place this time partly because he’s up to his jaded ears in Newport tapes and partly because this way we’ll have room on the back for pictures. This brings us instantly to the first problem, which is that George frequently starts out by saying all manner of nice things about me which I can’t say about myself without blushing, and it’s ridiculous to walk around blushing when you are twenty-two years old. Nevertheless I should explain who I am and all, especially for those among you who may have picked up the album because of the cover under the impression that you were getting the score from a Vincent Price movie.

Briefly, then, I’m this saxophone player from the Dave Brubeck quartet, with which I’ve been associated since shortly after the Crimean War. You can tell which one is me because when I’m not playing, which is surprisingly often, I’m leaning against the piano. I also have less of a smile than the other fellows. (This is because of the embouchure, or the shape of your mouth, while playing, and is very deceptive. You didn’t really think Benny Goodman was all that happy, did you? Nobody’s that happy.) I have won several prizes as the world’s slowest alto player, as well as a special award in 1961 for quietness.

My compatriot in this venture is Jim Hall, about whom it’s difficult to say anything complimentary enough. He’s a beautiful musician – the favorite guitar-picker of many people who agree on little else in music, and he goes to his left very well. Some years ago he was the leading character, by proxy, in a movie starring Tony Curtis (“Sweet Smell of Success”), a mark of distinction achieved only recently by such other notables as Hugh Hefner and Genghis Khan. He’s a sort of combination Pablo Casals and W. C. Fields and hilariously easy to work with except he complains once in a while when I lean on the guitar.

Gene Cherico, who’s becoming a thoroughly fantastic bass player, has only been playing bass for the last eight years. (Before that he was a drummer, but a tree fell on him. No kidding. That’s the kind of life he leads.) On Take Ten he was replaced by my sturdy buoyant hard-driving friend Eugene Wright.

Connie Kay is, of course, the superb drummer from the Modern Jazz Quartet, and if a tree ever falls on him I may just shoot myself. He’s like unique.

About the tunes: Take Ten is another excursion into 5/4 or 10/8, whichever you prefer. Since writing Take Five a few years back, a number of other possibilities in the 5 & 10 bag have come to mind from time to time. Take Ten is one of them. Theme from “Black Orpheus” and Samba de Orfeu, along with Embarcadero and El Prince, are in a rhythm which by now I suppose should be called bossa antigua. (It’s too bad the bossa nova became such a hula-hoop promotion. The original feeling was really a wild, subtle, delicate thing but it got lost there for a while in the avalanche. It’s much too musical to be just a fad; it should be a permanent part of the scene. One more color for the long winter night, and all.)

Alone Together, Nancy and The One I Love are old standards I’ve always liked. They were arranged, more or less, while we were milling about drinking coffee and all. This approach, while making for a comfortable looseness, usually leads to general apprehension towards the end of the take and frequent disasters, but occasionally you get a fringe benefit. At the end of Alone Together, Connie hit the big cymbal a good whang there and it sailed off the drum set and crashed on the floor. After the hysterical laughter subsided we were getting set to tear through it one more time but we listened to it anyway, out of curiosity, and it sounded kind of nice so we left it in. That’s one of the few advantages this group has over the MJQ – if Connie’s cymbal hits the floor on an MJQ record date, you by God know it, but with this group you can’t really be sure.

George Avakian was benevolently present at all stages of getting this record together, and Bob Prince, doubtless overwhelmed at having a song named after him, appeared frequently with advice and counsel which was totally disregarded.

I would also like to thank my father who discouraged me from playing the violin at an early age.