Billboard : 11/19/1966

Rack up one more for Shelly Manne. Two of the six numbers written by alto sax man Frank Strozier, demonstrate the varied talent of Shelley’s supporting artists. They are Idle One, slow and subtle, and Frank’s Tune, bluesy. Pianist Russ Freeman‘s contribution as a writer is a driving You Name It. He’s together ably here with Conte Candoli and Monty Budwig.

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Cashbox : 11/05/1966

A strong driving jazz package from Shelly Manne and his men recorded live at Shelly’s Manne Hole in Hollywood. Featured are: Shelly Manne, drums; Frank Strozier, alto sax; Conte Candoli, trumpet or fluegelhorn; Russ Freeman, piano; and Monty Budwig, bass. The Breeze and I and Wandering are blue-ribbon efforts. Likely to be a powerhouse item with the jazz buffs.

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Asbury Park Press
Don Lass : 12/17/1966

Manne‘s quintet hasn’t changed much in the past decade. The band is still rooted in the modern jazz school of the 1950s and its personnel still lists trumpeter Conte Condoli, a West Coast disciple of Miles Davis; pianist Russ Freeman, a consistently inventive soloist whose worth never has been fully recognized; bassist Monty Budwig, a solid component in any rhythm section, and the well-schooled and always refreshing drummer-leader. The newest member is alto saxophonist Frank Strozier, a gifted soloist whose presence is deeply felt throughout this collection, recorded at Manne’s Manne-Hole in Hollywood. Only one track here, a unique Jimmy Rowles arrangement of the shop-worn Margie, is distinguished. But the solos by Strozier and Freeman and the loosely swinging rhythmic feeling created by Manne and Budwig make the whole thing a worthwhile collection, especially for those who like their jazz simple and direct. And there is a spirit among these musicians that is evident in everything they play, an ingredient that detracts from the traditional instrumentation. Of the remaining tracks, Wandering is the most interesting, The Breeze and I the least.

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Detroit Free Press
Dorothy Ashby : 02/19/1967

When it comes to swingers, Shelly Manne definitely qualifies, whether you are referring to his outstanding capabilities as a drummer or his non-musical role as nightclub owner and performer at Shelly’s Manne-Hole, at which his latest album was recorded. Boss Sounds is just that, a whole lot of swingin’ goin’ on. The number of tunes on the album are few but the tracks are long, leaving plenty of improvising time. It is well spent by Frank Strozier, Russ Freeman and Conte Candoli.

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Down Beat : 01/12/1967
Michael Zwerin : 3 stars

This is a good album, but it doesn’t grab me. The soloists are okay, the rhythm section excellent, the lines lyrical and beau­tifully executed. Somehow, though, I can’t get myself to care about the sum total.

Intellectually, I know these guys are honest and are having a ball playing their music – and that’s a lot. It does nothing for me physically, however – and that’s a lot too.

Strozier plays post-bop, on the free side. Candoli… well, we already know how he sounds. He hasn’t really changed too much over the years – a little Miles, a bit of Chet Baker, plenty of musicality, but not enough of himself. They are both well-woodshedded, but on a blindfold test, I couldn’t tell either of them from maybe a half-dozen others. I don’t learn anything from them on this record.

I have absolutely no reservations about Budwig and Manne. Budwig gets a big in-tune sound at the bottom, and he plays interesting and ringing notes all over his instrument with good time. He and Manne are together, and swinging with variety, the whole way. Manne is a perfect drummer for my taste. He listens and responds to the soloist without overpowering him. He dominates things but with musicality alone.

There is something missing in total, though. Maybe I expect too much. Possibly I’m too fussy.

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Liner Notes by Leonard Feather

Shelly Manne is a man with five lives. Perhaps since these words went to press a couple more may have been added, but that was the total when I last checked with him.

First, of course, and foremost in terms of his worldwide public image, he is a jazz drummer. This was his identification when, at the age of 20, he replaced the late Dave Tough, his original idol, in the Joe Marsala band. That was in 1940, and during the years since then, many magazine awards and many accomplishments later, he has progressed consistently as a master of the craft of percussion, has kept his ears open to the advances that have been made, and has never renounced either his love for jazz or his association with it.

However, his second life, though less familiar to most of his followers, takes up a substation segment of every working day. He is a Hollywood studio musician who remains in continual demand for record dates, television and move work, commercial sessions of every kind that can keep him busy up to 16 hours a day when the going gets rough (but rough going is lucrative).

Third, Shelly is a writer of music for television. This facet of his career has taken on a new importance since he was given a regular assignment, for the 1966-67 season, to write the backgrounds for the CBS-TV show Daktari.

Fourth, Shelly and his wife Flip, who live on a farm in Northridge, CA, have made both a hobby and a part-time profession out of breeding show horses. This is an aspect of his life well known to musicians on the West Coast but likely to surprise certain squares whose concept of the typical jazzman’s life and pleasures has been molded by too many bad TV scripts and cornball movies.

Fifth, Shelly is one of the very few successful musicians in jazz who can see the scene from both sides of the fence, as employer and employee. Since November of 1960 he has owned a night club, Shelly’s Manne-Hole, on Cahuenga Boulevard for in what passes for the heart of Hollywood. (if you’ll concede, that is, that Hollywood has a heart.)

Shelly once described his investment in the club as 40% faith, 40% courage and 20% cash. He wanted to have a room in which his won group could play from time to time, but also a rendezvous where he could present some of his preferred contemporaries in a relaxed atmosphere.

“Too many clubs,” he says, “have a feeling of pressure on the customer. We don’t try to pressure anyone to buy drinks, or food, or even listen to the music. We want people to have a good time, and that goes for musicians and customers alike. We want people to want to hear the music, but we don’t feel there should be an atmosphere that’s tense or rigid like a concert hall.

“We always feel at home playing in the club, and it’s encouraging to know that other musicians who work here seem to feel the same way, and the patrons too.”

This album is the first in a couple of years that the Mann-Hole’s Boss Manne has recorded with his regular, unadulterated, unaugmented quintet. The personnel of the combo has remained unusually stable. Conte Candoli has been working with Shelly almost continuously since 1961, combining this job with a career in the studios. Russ Freeman has been closely associated with Shelly for more than six years; they toured Europe as part of a Norman Granz Jazz at the Philharmonic unit in 1960.

Frank Strozier made a lasting impression on Shelly when working at the Manne-Hole in 1963, during a brief period when Frank was a member of the Miles Davis group. Born in Memphis in 1937, he was one of a group of local youngsters who were all to become prominent in jazz; among the others were George Coleman, Hank Crawford, Harold Mabern and the late Booker Little. Strozier spent most of the early 1960s working with Roy Haynes‘ Quartet. He settled in Hollywood early in 1965 and immediately became a member of Shelly’s quintet.

Monty Budwig has worked with Shelly off and on since the 1950s. His clean, resilient bass sound has also been heard in the Benny Goodman Quartet, which toured Japan in 1964, and with Terry Gibbs, Victor Feldman and numerous other local groups.

The opening track on Side One of this album offers an inspired illustration of the unorthodox ideas available within the framework of the Manne group’s simple, traditional instrumentation. Margie was arranged by pianist Jimmy Rowles. It extends so far beyond the confines of that hoary 1920 melody that Jimmy even uses a different title for it (Largely); nevertheless, the witty, angular theme in the first chorus is based on the chord structure of the old song. Russ Freeman’s solo, during the first few measures, even offers a fleeting reminder of the original melody, though before long he has it virtually converted into a blues. Conte’s tasteful muted solo is superbly supported by the walking Budwig bass. Frank Strozier’s solo recalls his credo: “I appreciate Charlie Parker and most of the older musicians, but I dig some of the younger ones too.” Strozier, incidentally, continues to confuse audiences at the club by looking as though he were not old enough to order a drink.

Idle One, a slow theme introduced by Frank, who composed it, reveals many of the subtleties of Shelly’s supportive talent: his role at times is so sensitive it as if he were playing a countermelody. Monty Budwig’s pacing and spacing of notes offer just what is required to sustain the interest at this tempo.

The Breeze and I is the only standard on this session (unless you count Margie, which is largely Largely); it is also the only track for which there was no arrangement. “It was just a head; we all chipped in with ideas here and there,” says Shelly.

Frank’s Tune is a wistful, melancholy Strozier original. Note the keen sense of time and admirable articulation in Russ Freeman’s contribution. Strozier plays an extraordinary solo in which passages of stunning fluency alternate with moments of simple, blues-informed intensity.

Wandering is one of the Quintet’s most colorful and moving performances. “Don Specht, who composed the tune,” says Shelly,” is well known around Hollywood as a jingle writer. I did this on a big band date with him, and was so impressed that I asked him to make a small combo chart for us.”

You Name It, a Russ Freeman original, has a slight touch of the sound that was once identified as West Coast Jazz, when that phrases enjoyed some currency a few years back; but its character remains essentially contemporary. There are fleet, driving solos by Strozier, Candoli, Freeman (note the Bill Evans-like left hand accents), Budwig, and finally by Manne himself, making one of his relatively rare appearances as a soloist.

The six tracks offer a revealing picture of the happy spirit that pervades Shelly’s Manne-Hole, particularly when the owner’s combo is in residence. The music is music of today, yet there is no attempt at pretention, no social or religious or other extra-musical implication. As Shelly said: “Sure, our music has meaning, but the meaning is right there in the music. I know you won’t write the kind of liner notes that imply some deep, hidden meaning outside the music. An awful lot of people are bringing in extraneous factors as selling points nowadays. Jazz is still fun to me; we had fun making this album. I hope this is enough in itself.”