Kessel's guitar leads a small orchestra of reeds, with just drums and bass to anchor the sound.
This is a small-group session built backward from how jazz usually works. Instead of horns on top and guitar tucked into the rhythm section, Barney Kessel sits front and center while five woodwind players circle around him — Ted Nash, Buddy Collette, Justin Gordon, Jules Jacob, and George W. Smith creating a fluid, almost orchestral cushion beneath and around his lines. The rhythm section — Shelly Manne on drums and a rotating bass chair occupied by Red Mitchell and Buddy Clark, with Jimmy Rowles and André Previn handling piano — stays lean and attentive, never pushing, just holding the shape. The tempos are unhurried. Nothing here rushes. Kessel plays with a warm, woody tone that sounds closer to a classical guitarist than a bebop firebrand, which is exactly what this setting calls for. The arrangements have space in them. You hear Kessel's single lines clearly, hear how the reeds respond, hear the drums brush and the piano comp gently. This is chamber jazz — not intimate, because there are a lot of voices, but precise and conversational. It's unusual for 1956, this foregrounding of a guitar player in such an arranged context. Kessel was a working studio guitarist and ensemble player first, and this album leans into that identity rather than trying to make him play like a soloist fronting a band. The result is refreshing: focused, clean, and genuinely listenable as background music or close listening. The album's title says it plainly — this is music designed around what Kessel does best, which is play beautifully in company.