Original Broadway Cast, 1949 (Decca) (3 / 5) Lost in the Stars, by playwright Maxwell Anderson and composer Kurt Weill, deals with racial discrimination and segregation — unlikely territory for a Broadway musical in 1940s America. With its operatic dimensions and somber tone, the show elicited mixed but largely approving notices. Weill and Anderson based their work on Alan Paton’s Cry, the Beloved Country, a 1948 novel that contrasts the natural beauty of South Africa with the brutality of its apartheid policy. As in the novel, the protagonist is a Zulu (played by Todd Duncan) ordained to the Anglican priesthood, whose son kills a white man in the course of committing a robbery and is tried for murder, convicted, and hanged. The story concludes with the reconciliation of two bereaved fathers, the black priest and the white man whose son was killed. Anderson’s Iibretto and Weill’s magnificent score take liberties with Paton’s material; in fact, after seeing Lost in the Stars, the novelist wrote that he regretted giving its adapters the rights to his book. The musical featured a Greek chorus narrating and commenting on the action. Virgil Thomson, in his review for the New York Herald Tribune, called the show a singspiel; the chorus performs an inordinate amount of the score, leaving little for the principals to do. The recording contains about 45 minutes of music, with Maurice Levine conducting a 12-piece chamber ensemble, orchestrations by Weill. The spoken dialogue is somewhat wooden, and some of the singing is weak.  — Charles Wright

Studio Cast, 1993 (MusicMasters Classics) (4 / 5) As general director and principal conductor of the New York City Opera in the late 1950s, Julius Rudel rescued Lost in the Stars from obscurity by introducing it into his company’s repertoire. Thirty-five years later, Rudel conducted this definitive recording of the beautiful Weill-Anderson score. Leading the Orchestra of St. Luke’s, he utilized more musicians than Weill ever envisioned, and he searched the worlds of opera and musical theater to find a dream cast. Notable among the vocalists are Arthur Woodley, who not only sings exquisitely but also brings poignancy to Stephen Kumalo’s Act II soliloquy; Cynthia Clarey, who renders “Stay Well” and “Trouble Man” with tenderness; and Carol Woods, who belts “Who’ll Buy?” with flair. But the true stars of this recording are the members of the Concert Chorale of New York and tenor Gregory Hopkins as chorus leader. While the original Broadway album retains considerable historical interest, the superior vocalism and the ample orchestral sound of Rudel’s studio version eclipses the earlier release. — C.W.

Original Broadway and Touring Cast, 1973-74 (MGM/Decca) (3 / 5) Sort of a “revisal” of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, though that word had not yet been coined when this show was staged, Lorelei had a new book and many new songs by Blondes composer Jule Styne, with lyrics by Betty Comden and Adolph Green. The star of both shows was the same, and so was the plot; a prologue and epilogue were added wherein central character Lorelei Lee reminisced about her life, to help justify the fact that Carol Channing was now too old for the role she had created 24 years earlier. The cast recorded the show before launching a year-long tour that was to precede the Broadway opening, but changes on the road led to a second recording. The first album, labeled “The Original Cast Recording” in big red letters and featuring a large drawing of Channing’s face, had three new Styne-Comden-Green songs: “Looking Back,” “Lorelei,” and “I Won’t Get Away.” There were also new lyrics for the original score’s “Sunshine,” retitled “Paris, Paris.” (Leo Robin wrote the lyrics for Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.) The second album was labeled “The Original Broadway Cast Album” in big blue lettering, with the same drawing of Channing. It added four tracks that were recorded a year after the first sessions: “It’s Delightful Down in Chile,” “Men,” a reprise of “Looking Back” leading into a reprise of “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend,” and a new overture. Inexplicably, some songs that were in the show when it reached New York were not on the album; but a new title song not performed on Broadway was included, probably to give leading man Peter Palmer more of a presence. The CD edition of Lorelei has everything that was recorded for both albums. Although the remastering is excellent, some of the tracks still sound hollow. Channing is in great voice and top form throughout. There’s not much opportunity for the other cast members to score on the recording, but Lee Roy Reams does a bang-up job with the jazzy “I Won’t Let You Get Away,” Tamara Long is a fine Dorothy, and Dody Goodman makes the most of her occasional comedic interjections. — J.D.

Original Broadway Cast, 1948 (Decca) (3 / 5) Based on an idea by Jerome Robbins, Look, Ma, I’m Dancin’! was a broad musical comedy about a touring ballet company. It starred the incredibly gifted Broadway clown Nancy Walker, later well known for her work on television. At 4’10”, Walker made her entrance in the show leading a Russian wolfhound that was nearly as tall as she was. She played an heiress whose money pays for the tour, thereby securing her place as the latest addition to the corps de ballet. The other main character, played by Harold Lang, is a young choreographer’s who’s brilliant but generally loathed, even by the girl who loves him. The show comprised three love stories, but the eight Hugh Martin songs on this album, all lightly swinging, do not reveal any sense of plot. Walker gets two solid comic pieces, “I’m the First Girl in the Second Row in the Third Scene in the Fourth Number, in Fifth Position” and “I’m Tired of Texas,” plus the more romantic, upbeat “If You’ll Be Mine.” Lang sings the irrepressible “Gotta Dance” and the self-reflective “I’m Not So Bright.” Composer Martin is heard here performing the odd “Little Boy Blues” with Sandra Deel, who also sings “Shauny O’Shea,” though Deel did neither number in the New York production. Bill Shirley didn’t make it to opening night, but he has two numbers on the album, which was recorded during rehearsals to avoid a pending musicians’ strike. If you’re looking for more of this show, the Ben Bagley CD Ballet on Broadway has the “Mlle. Scandale Ballet” — David Wolf

Off-Broadway Concert Cast, 2000 (Original Cast Records) (2 / 5) Musicals Tonight! is a very well-meaning New York company that mounts concert performances of old musicals. It consistently chooses the most interesting titles of all the NYC concert-musical series, and its tickets are far less expensive than any of the others. This recording documents the group’s presentation of Look, Ma, I’m Dancin’! — apparently, the first since the original Broadway run. I’m fond of this material and Hugh Martin’s writing in general, but I can’t say that this album is very impressive, even if it does include five songs that are not to be found on the Broadway cast album. Except for Rob Lorey, none of the performers here sings with any distinctive sense of character. — D.W.

Original Off-Broadway Cast, 1956 (Painted Smiles) (4 / 5) The vibrant overture on this recording tells us that we’re about to hear one of the tangiest revues of the 1950s. Ben Bagley produced the show. Most of the songs are by Vernon Duke and Ogden Nash, and those that aren’t are by then-unknowns who wouldn’t stay unknown for long: Charles Strouse, Lee Adams, and Sheldon Harnick, to name just three. The hilarious “Backer’s Audition” opener is the work of orchestrator John Strauss, Kenward Elmslie, and John Latouche. The cast is uneven but pretty terrific overall. A young Tammy Grimes is already mannered and throaty, but who cares when she’s introducing “I’m Glad I’m Not a Man,” with Nash rhymes like “battle-axe” / “Cadillacs.” Joel Grey has fun with the mock-Belafonte number “I Lost the Rhythm” (music and lyrics by Strouse). And everything Charlotte Rae touches turns to gold. She’s warm and distinctive in the Duke-Nash song “Summer Is a-Comin’ In,” zany in Harnick’s “The Shape of Things,” devastating in Bud McCreery’s “The Power of Negative Thinking,” and triumphant in “Spring Doth Let Her Colours Fly.” That last-named item, an impudent Strouse-Adams spoof of Helen Traubel’s Las Vegas act, may be the single funniest song from any ’50s revue. The other performers aren’t quite of the Grimes-Grey-Rae caliber; Beverly Bozeman over-belts “Good Little Girls,” and Tommy Morton, more a dancer than a singer, bobbles the fine, odd Duke-Nash ballad “Born Too Late.” But the material, including a couple of CD bonus tracks, is so strong that one columnist was moved to call the show “the My Fair Lady of the intimate revue.” That’s not much of an exaggeration. — Marc Miller

Original Off-Broadway Cast, 1982 (Geffen) (4 / 5) Who would have thought that Roger Corman and Charles B. Griffith’s campy 1960 horror flick about a bloodthirsty plant out for world conquest would make such a delightful musical? The original cast recording of Little Shop of Horrors beautifully demonstrates why this show has become a modern classic. The score, with lyrics by Howard Ashman and music by Alan Menken, is a treasure; it charmingly combines evocative, early-’60s pop/rock song styles with theatricality so solid that the “girl group” sound of the catchy title song and the driving Motown beat of “Git It” don’t sound out of place next to the sweetly heartfelt “Somewhere That’s Green” or the soaring duet “Suddenly Seymour.” Then there’s a wonderful cast. Lee Wilkof is just right as the nebbishy Seymour, who tends to the carnivorous Audrey II (soulfully voiced by Ron Taylor). Hy Anzell is fine as flower-shop owner Mushnik; Franc Luz plays a variety of bit parts successfully, including the sadistic biker dentist; and Sheila Kay Davis, Jennifer Leigh Warren, and Leilani Jones are great as the close-harmony singing, Greek-choruslike urchins. Finally, there’s Ellen Greene, her unique talents perfectly matched to the role of the abused yet ever-hopeful Audrey. Greene perfectly melds trashiness with vulnerability while singing beautifully. It’s disappointing that one full song, an important reprise, and small sections of other numbers are omitted from this cast album, and included is a version of “Mushnik and Son” that was later replaced. These changes make it an incomplete record of the material that most people will see performed in revivals, but what’s here is presented well enough to forgive what’s not. — Matthew Murray

Film Soundtrack, 1986 (Geffen) (3 / 5) All things considered, the film adaptation of Little Shop of Horrors is excellent: bright, funny, thoughtfully directed by Frank Oz, and well performed by a cast that features Rick Moranis as Seymour, the irreplaceable Ellen Greene as Audrey, and Steve Martin in a riotous performance as the dentist. Among the changes for the film, all of Mushnik’s songs are cut, and “Some Fun Now” replaces “Ya Never Know.” The new song “Mean Green Mother from Outer Space” is fine, but not as exciting as “Don’t Feed the Plants.” Note also that the soundtrack album’s spoken prologue and “Skid Row” have minor but noticeable differences from what’s heard in the film, and “The Meek Shall Inherit” doesn’t reflect the movie’s cuts. Happily, while the score retains most of its original intimacy, it sounds better than ever with full orchestrations by Bob Gaudio, Thomas Pasatieri, and original orchestrator Robby Merkin; “Suddenly Seymour” is particularly thrilling.  — M.M.

Broadway Cast, 2003 (DRG) (3 / 5) This recording is commendable for its completeness. Everything in the score is here, including “Mushnik & Son ” (with the now-standard lyrics), “Call Back in the Morning,” Audrey’s “Somewhere That’s Green” reprise, and even the “Shing-a-ling” first act finale. While some of the show’s sweet simplicity was sacrificed in favor of bigger takes on everything for the Broadway revival, Little Shop fans will want this cast album to be part of their collection despite its minor flaws. There are a few musical changes — most significantly, the use of the movie version’s extended title song. Danny Troob’s orchestrations lack the appeal of Robby Merkin’s, and some of the casting, particularly Hunter Foster as Seymour and Kerry Butler as Audrey, is more functional than ideal. Still, the recording is very well done, and it includes five bonus tracks of demos/cut songs sung by Menken, Ashman, and original Audrey II voice Ron Taylor. — M.M.

Off-Broadway Cast, 2019 (Ghostlight) (4 / 5) As per the show’s marketing, a 2019 revival returned Little Shop of Horrors to its Off-Broadway “roots” (get it?), playing at the intimate Westside Theatre on far West 43rd Street in a very well received production directed by Michael Mayer and starring Jonathan Groff as Seymour, Tammy Blanchard as Audrey, and Christian Borle as Orin Scrivello, DDS. Happily, the mistakes that were made for the pumped-up Broadway presentation of 2003 were not replicated here, and the show was a big hit in its run at the Westside until it had to close indefinitely due to the COVID-19 crisis of 2020. The score, as heard in Will Van Dyke’s fine new arrangements/orchestrations, is lovingly presented, and the leads are every inch as appealing a couple as they need to be; though some Little Shop fans may be nonplussed by Groff’s lack of a New York accent in the role, his Seymour is arguably the most warmly sung on record, while Blanchard’s Audrey is only a slight disappointment in that her limitations at the top of her vocal range seem to have necessitated a downward transposition of “Suddenly Seymour.” Borle is hysterically funny as the dentist of one’s nightmares, while Kingsley Leggs richly and dynamically voices Audrey II in the traditional mode. Tom Alan Robins is just right as Mushnik, and the three women who play the Urchins — Ari Groover, Salome Smith, and Joy Woods — come across as powerhouse vocalists individually and when functioning as a girl group.  — Michael Portantiere

Original Broadway Cast, 1973 (Columbia/Sony) (5 / 5) A Little Night Music is emblematic of composer-lyricist Stephen Sondheim’s work in that it sounds very different from his other scores and yet is clearly the creation of one of the musical theater’s true geniuses. Based on Ingmar Bergman’s film Smiles of a Summer Night, with a book by Hugh Wheeler, the show features songs that are gorgeously romantic, witty, and heartbreaking by turns, all of them benefiting greatly from Jonathan Tunick’s lush orchestrations. Though excellent overall, the cast album is somewhat disappointing in that the vocal limitations of Glynis Johns as Desirée Armfeldt and Patricia Elliott as Countess Charlotte prevent them from giving fully satisfying performances of their songs. Elliott sings her lines in “Every Day a Little Death” and “A Weekend in the Country” with little or no nuance; Johns gives oddly flat readings of her semi-spoken lines in “You Must Meet My Wife,” and although her rendition of “Send in the Clowns” is heartfelt, she struggles with some of the notes because the bulk of the music lies right around her register break. However, the rest of the cast is superb. Len Cariou and Laurence Guittard sing beautifully as Frederik Egerman and Carl-Magnus Malcolm, respectively. Victoria Mallory brings a resplendent soprano to the role of Anne Egerman, yet she manages to sound convincingly young, as the character must be for the plot of this show to make sense. Ditto tenor Mark Lambert as Henrik, whose singing in “Later” and “A Weekend in the Country” is perfect in both musical and dramatic terms. Hermione Gingold’s performance of Madame Armfeldt’s “Liaisons” is full of personality, and a major highlight of the recording is D’Jamin-Bartlett’s rendition of one of the best, smartest, most deeply affecting songs in the score, “The Miller’s Son.” — Michael Portantiere

Original London Cast, 1975 (RCA) (3 / 5) This recording boasts fewer legit voices than the Broadway album, with even some of the Liebeslieder singers falling short in this regard. Joss Ackland simply lacks the vocal goods for the role of Frederik; the key of ”You Must Meet My Wife” has been lowered for him, but he’s still unable to sustain the high notes for more than one beat, and he sounds perfectly awful in “It Would Have Been Wonderful.” On top of all that, Ackland does an awful lot of speak-singing throughout the recording. As Anne, Veronica Page sings prettily enough except above the staff, where her voice thins out and becomes unpleasantly fluttery. David Kernan sounds fine as Carl-Magnus, as does Terry Mitchell as the tormented Henrik. Although Maria Aitken doesn’t have much more of a singing voice than Patricia Elliott of the original Broadway cast, she sounds far more emotionally involved in “Every Day a Little Death.” Jean Simmons is lovely as Desirée, her “Send in the Clowns” very persuasive; and Diane Langton thrillingly belts “The Miller’s Son” in a higher key than her Broadway predecessor, D’Jamin-Bartlett. Gingold is back as Mme. Armfeldt, and very welcome. The orchestrations are the originals for the most part, but this version of Frederik’s “Now” includes some clever little brass and woodwind interjections that are not on the Broadway album. — M.P.

Film Soundtrack, 1977 (Columbia/Sony) (4 / 5) A film that might have been beautiful was botched due to poor direction (by Hal Prince, who had helmed the original Broadway production of A Little Night Music but was not known as a film director) and other major flaws, most notably the casting of Elizabeth Taylor as Desirée. The movie was also sabotaged by moving the action from Sweden to Vienna, Austria, with some of the characters renamed to conform to the new locale. (Given this score’s many waltzes, the switch to Vienna may not sound like a bad idea, but it just doesn’t work.) The film does include a brilliant new version of “The Glamorous Life” for Fredrika, winsomely sung by Elaine Tomkinson (dubbing for Chloe Franks), but since that track is now to be found as a bonus item on the original Broadway album, you don’t need to buy the soundtrack recording to get it. Weirdly, Tomkinson also dubs Anne Egerman’s songs for Lesley-Anne Down. She does a fine job in both cases, but the fact that one singer ghosts two separate roles indicates how misguided the film is in general. Taylor’s rendition of “Send in the Clowns” is better than expected; her singing voice is fragile, but that arguably adds to the character’s emotional vulnerability as expressed in this famous, beautiful song. (Taylor’s singing is also dubbed by Elaine Tomkinson in the rewritten opening number, “Love Takes Time” and, it seems, for Desirée’s final line in “You Must Meet My Wife.”) A major plus here is Diana Rigg, a fabulous Charlotte. Not only does she act the character’s songs more fully than those who preceded her in the role, Rigg sings them better, too. Len Cariou and Laurence Guittard recreate their original roles but rein in their big voices for the film medium, so you’ll probably enjoy them more on the Broadway recording. Carl-Magnus’s “In Praise of Women” was cut from the movie and is not included on this album; among the other great songs missing here are “Liaisons” and “The Miller’s Son.” Gingold is back once again as Mme. Armfeldt, but with “Liaisons” gone, she doesn’t have much to do. — M.P.

Royal National Theatre Cast, 1995 (Tring) (2 / 5) This recording features two major, controversial additions to the score: Fredrika’s extended solo version of “The Glamorous Life,” a highlight of the Night Music film, and Charlotte’s “My Husband the Pig,” which was cut from the show before it opened on Broadway. Trying to shove these songs into the show score is questionable to begin with, and it’s done here with a consummate lack of skill. Fredrika’s “Glamorous Life” is broken up into sections that are interrupted by bits of the original version sung by Desirée, Madame Armfeldt, and the Liebeslieder singers, while “My Husband the Pig” is stuck into the middle of Carl-Magnus’s “In Praise of Women.” It’s surprising that Sondheim allowed any of this; the “Glamorous Life” conglomeration, in particular, is hard to listen to because it contains several bizarre modulations of key. The best thing about this album is Judi Dench, stellar in the role of Desirée. Her performance of “Send in the Clowns” is truly special, most noteworthy for the bitterness and anger that she stresses in the song’s mix of emotions. Laurence Guittard, the original Count Carl-Magnus, has here graduated to the role of Frederik, which he sings very well, while Carl-Magnus is capably sung by Lambert Wilson. Other accomplished principals are Joanna Riding as Anne, Patrica Hodge as Charlotte, Issy van Randwyck as Petra, and Siân Phillips as Mme. Armfeldt. The fly in the ointment is Brendan O’Hea as Henrik, screaming the high notes that are so beautifully rendered by Mark Lambert on the original Broadway cast album. — M.P.

Broadway Cast, 2009 (PS Classics, 2CDs) (1 / 5) While this recording is mostly unsatisfactory in its own right, by no means does it make clear just how far off the mark was the 2009 Broadway revival of A Little Night Music, disastrously misdirected by Trevor Nunn. The visual component of Nunn’s staging is, of course, absent here, nor are we subjected to David Farley’s all-wrong scenic design. The tiny “orchestra” heard on the album, though still completely inadequate for Sondheim’s glorious score, is slightly augmented in size from the pitifully minuscule group that was employed at the Walter Kerr Theatre for this production, and the general inwardness of the cast’s performances is less damaging on the recording than it was live; listen, for example, to Catherine Zeta-Jones’ and Alexander Hanson’s hyper-intimate reading of the Desirée-Frederik dialogue scene before “Send in the Clowns.” Even the one piece of miscasting among the leads, Aaron Lazar as Carl-Magnus, isn’t a major problem here, because he was wrong for the role more in terms of physical than vocal type. Somehow holding their heads above water, Zeta-Jones, Erin Davie, and Leigh Ann Larkin are quite good overall as Desirée, Charlotte, and Petra respectively, while the great Angela Lansbury is one of the best-ever Mme. Armfeldts, her performance here helped by the inclusion of so much dialogue on the recording. Faring less well due to Nunn’s misguidance is Ramona Mallory with a weird characterization of Anne, although the beauty of her singing voice is happily very much in evidence. (Ramona is the daughter of Victoria Mallory and Mark Lambert, the original Broadway Anne and Henrik.) There are sections of Henrik’s music in which Hunter Ryan Herdlicka demonstrates that he does have the vocal chops for the role, so it’s a pity that he delivers the high notes in “Later” and “A Weekend in the Country” in a blaring straight tone, presumably for “effect.” That choice may have been foisted upon Herdlicka by Nunn or by musical director Tom Murray, whose leadership is lacking in that he permits or encourages the cast members to futz with phrasing and to indulge in a fair amount of speak-singing — always a big mistake in a Sondheim score. The Liebeslieder singers have gorgeous voices, and once past the somnolent beginning of the “Night Waltz” that opens the recording, they sound wonderful throughout. — M.P.

Original Broadway Cast, 1962 (RCA) (5 / 5) This album starts with one of the most exciting overtures ever and takes off from there, thanks largely to orchestrator Ralph Burns. With Cy Coleman’s terrific, sophisticated melodies perfectly matched to Carolyn Leigh’s mind-bending word games, the entire score of Little Me is a treat. Neil Simon’s libretto, based on Patrick Dennis’ spoof of tell-all celebrity bios, is a raucous series of burlesque blackouts tracing the rise, fall, and rise of Belle Poitrine (née Schlumpfert). Our heroine’s search for “wealth, culture, and social position” leads to numerous misadventures, including the annihilation of most of her lovers — all of whom were embodied in the original production by the great comic Sid Caesar. In terms of energy and wit, the score is simply unforgettable. The opening number, in which an older Belle (Nancy Andrews) announces her plan to pen her memoirs, sets the perfect tone of genial satire. Other gems include the poor girl’s manifesto “The Other Side of the Tracks,” in which Virginia Martin as Young Belle unleashes her astonishing belt, and “Deep Down Inside,” with Young Belle innocently vamping a superannuated miser played by Caesar. In the hands of Swen Swenson, the sizzling “I’ve Got Your Number” is one of the sexiest tracks on any cast album. Three ballads also stand out: the Tinseltown lament “Poor Little Hollywood Star,” the delightful “Real Live Girl,” and the notably fatalistic “Here’s to Us.” And when the two Belles merge to sing the title song, watch out! One irony is that Caesar, in his only Broadway musical, is somewhat overshadowed on disc by Martin and Andrews, but every number here is guaranteed to chase the blues away.  — David Barbour

Original London Cast, 1964 (Pye/DRG) (3 / 5) A fair copy of the Broadway original, the London cast album of Little Me features Brit comedy star Bruce Forsyth in Sid Caesar’s roles, with Eileen Gourlay as Young Belle. They’re enthusiastic, to say the least — and the disc contains the dance number “Rich Kids Rag,” which the Broadway edition does not. Forsyth is a better singer than Caesar, but he can’t approach his predecessor’s performance as French cabaret star Val du Val in “Boom-Boom.” Swen Swenson is still on hand,  but for some reason, this recording of “I’ve Got Your Number” lacks excitement. Still the cast is strong overall, and this is one London recording of an American musical that doesn’t suffer from slow tempi. It’s a good complement to the Broadway version, and it’s also interesting for the many changes in the lyrics for Brit audiences. — D.B.

Broadway Cast, 1999  (Varèse Sarabande) (2 / 5) Little Me is one of those musicals that its creators can’t let alone. An early-’80s Broadway revisal that divided Sid Caesar’s roles between Victor Garber and James Coco was a quick flop. For the 1999 Roundabout Theatre production, Simon again rewrote his book, combing Belle and Young Belle into one role for Faith Prince. Martin Short appeared as all the men in her life. The performance in general is brassy and far too knowing; Short’s hamming is shameless (his mangled French accent in “Boom-Boom” is very unfunny), while Prince’s breathy, overemphatic singing underlines each joke with the vocal equivalent of a magic marker. On top of all that, Harold Wheeler’s new orchestrations lack the metallic exuberance of Ralph Burns’ originals. However, the recording does include the “Rich Kids Rag, and a zesty performance of “Deep Down Inside.” Also, thanks to the inclusion of some amusing dialogue sequences, we get a better sense of the show’s plot line than what may be gleaned from the two previous recordings. — D.B.

Original Off-Broadway Cast, 1959 (Capitol/Angel) (5 / 5) Not too long after Sandy Wilson proved with The Boy Friend that audiences enjoyed spoofs of old musicals, Rick Besoyan wrote the book, music, and lyrics to this hilarious send-up. It ranks with the Wilson opus as head-and-shoulders above every subsequent satire of the genre. Besoyan’s target is operetta of the type that Sigmund Romberg and Victor Herbert were turning out in the early 20th century. Throughout the narrative about forest rangers, finishing-school maidens, and a few Native Americans, the clever author lines up every cliché of the art form as if setting ducks in a row, then shoots every one down with great delight. There’s the love chant (“Colorado Love Call”), the cheer-up ditty (“Look for a Sky of Blue”), the marching song (“The Forest Rangers”), the fun-time contrapuntal choral pieces (“Playing Croquet,” “Swinging,” “How Do You Do?”), the salute-to-the-old-country tune (“In Izzenschnooken on the Essenzook Zee”), the novelty number (“Mata Hari”), and a darling title song. All are tuneful and amusing. Leading the large cast, Eileen Brennan became the toast of downtown as the sunny title character, instigating lots of laughs with her silvery voice and cunning delivery. John McMartin and Elmarie Wendel are the secondary love interests. In the theater, the score was played on twin pianos, but for this recording, Capitol provided a full orchestra. Rick Besoyan almost entirely disappeared after popping the cork on this bottle of champagne. It’s interesting to note that, while he framed Little Mary as primarily a send-up of shows such as Naughty Marietta, it seems he was also spoofing the Princess Theatre musicals that Jerome Kern, P. G. Wodehouse, and Guy Bolton turned out 100 years ago. And he may have had Leave It to Jane specifically in mind; “Mata Hari“ is very close to “Cleopatterer” from that score, and “You’ve Got to Hand It to Little Mary Sunshine” is practically a rewrite of Jane‘s title song. — David Finkle

Original London Cast, 1962  (Capitol/DRG) (4 / 5)  One of the earliest Off-Broadway musical clicks,  Little Mary Sunshine didn’t knock out the Brits when it opened at the Comedy, the small West End theater that’s now known as the Harold Pinter — this so-so reception despite the fact that the sunny-humored title character was played by Patricia Routledge, six years before she came to Manhattan and became the darling of the day in Darling of the Day. As evidenced by the cast recording, there was no attempt by anyone in this Paddy Stone-directed production to veer from native Mayfair accents to sound like Colorado denizens, including Native Americans speaking broken English. (The cliché portrayal of Native Americans would no doubt present a political correctness problem in a contemporary revival stateside.) The London cast sings Rick Besoyan’s score as if it were an opera or an operetta. Predictably, Routledge, ever the comedienne, gives a rollicking performance as Mary. The only other familiar name (to some, at least) is Bernard Cribbins. He and all the others, conducted by Philip Mirwell, are pristine in their delivery. Although Besoyan cited American operetta influences for this musical, the English accents here often conjure thoughts of W. S. Gilbert and Sir Arthur Sullivan — the fathers, grandfathers, and now great-great-grandfathers of this whole shebang. — D.F.

Original Cast, 2003 (Midder Music, 2CDs) (4 / 5) Skillfully programmed and directed by Mark Waldrop, this revue had a brief run Upstairs at Studio 54. Happily, it yielded a “live” cast album that will bring pleasure to those who saw the show and introduce some wonderful music to those who missed it. As presented onstage and in this two-disc set, Listen to My Heart demonstrates that David Friedman’s range as a composer-lyricist is greater than he’s often given credit for. It’s true that much of his output falls into two general categories: life-affirming anthems and heart-on-the-sleeve love ballads. Some of the lyrics of these songs can be difficult for the more cynical among us to take, but Friedman’s sincerity is genuine, and there are several other types of songs included here. “Live It Up,” for example, is a funny up-tune that’s very different from two standout, country-inflected numbers: the witty “If You Love Me, Please Don’t Feed Me”(written with Robin Boudreau and Scott Barnes) and the heartfelt “My White Knight” (not to be confused with the song of the same title from The Music Man). Given that so much of Friedman’s work would seem to mark him as a paragon of positive thinking, one of his most surprising creations is “Catch Me,” a poignant plea for help from a person on the brink of suicide. In complete contrast, there are some hilariously funny “Jewish humor” numbers, performed to the hilt by Alix Korey. Happily, her rendition of “My Simple Wish” (a.k.a. “My Simple Christmas Wish”), long the stuff of cabaret legend, is preserved here. Thanks to this two-CD recording’s excellent sound quality, all of the performances can be fully appreciated: Allison Briner’s soulful delivery of “My White Knight”; Joe Cassidy’s powerful “Catch Me” and Michael Hunsaker’s sympathetic response, “I Can Hold You”; and Anne Runolfsson’s “What I Was Dreamin’ Of” and “We Can Be Kind,” which show her to be one of the finest singing actresses of her generation. First-rate ensemble work and three songs played and sung beautifully by Friedman himself complete the listening experience. — Michael Portantiere

Film Soundtrack, 1994 (Walt Disney Records) (3 / 5) The mega-hit animated Disney movie The Lion King spawned this mega-selling soundtrack recording, which includes the Oscar-winning best song “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?” A large orchestra with that distinctive, latter-day Disney-pop sound plays the five Elton John-Tim Rice songs, including “Circle of Life” and “I Just Can’t Wait to Be King.” Some of the celeb voices featured in the film can be heard in a couple of the songs: Jeremy Irons does “Be Prepared” with Whoopi Goldberg and Cheech Marin, and that’s Nathan Lane singing with Ernie Sabella in “Hakuna Matata.” The accompanying booklet helpfully includes lyrics to all of the songs for those who choose to sing along. The recording also has instrumentals by the gifted Hans Zimmer and ends with three of the songs in distinctive, electric renditions by Elton John. More often than not, you can indeed “feel the love” here. — Morgan Sills

Original Broadway Cast, 1997 (Walt Disney Records) (4 / 5) The Lion King is more than a musical; it’s a juggernaut. This time, Disney didn’t follow the route it had taken with Beauty and the Beast, the Broadway version of which was mostly a replication of the film with a few extra songs. Instead, Julie Taymor directed a show packed with visual splendor that creatively reimagined and expanded upon the movie of The Lion King and won the 1998 Tony Award for Best Musical. Elton John and Tim Rice’s pop-hit songs from the film are thrillingly performed here; they sit very well next to the new songs that the team wrote for the stage show, and some additional material by other writers. The sense of stylistic unity is aided by lush orchestrations by Robert Elhai, David Metzger, and Bruce Fowler that utilize authentic African rhythms and instruments. “Circle of Life” and “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?” retain their effectiveness, though their presentation here differs somewhat from that of the film’s soundtrack. “Hakuna Matara” is charmingly performed, and Geoff Hoyle as Zasu does a clever new number, “The Morning Report.” The best of the additions are “They Live in You” (sung by Samuel E. Wright, reprised by Tsidii Le Loka) and “Shadowland” (sung by Heather Headley). One quibble, which applies to many cast albums these days: The rough edges of a live performance have been so thoroughly smoothed over in the studio that the whole thing is an inch short of freshness. But that’s a relatively small complaint about this glorious audio souvenir of an enchanting Broadway perennial. — M.S.

Original Broadway Cast, 1956 (Columbia/Sony) (4 / 5) The cast album of this hit, faithfully adapted from Al Capp’s deep-fried comic strip, has a complicated history that’s worth telling because the recording warrants attention. One of the last monaural cast albums, it made a brief appearance on CD around 1990 in a no-frills transfer that quickly became a collectors’ item. Rumor had it that the entire album had been recorded in stereo, but it turned out that the binaural tracks were unusable because the orchestra was recorded entirely on one track, the singers on the other. Sony cleaned up the monaural tracks and added several items for this CD reissue: a full-stereo overture, a stereo version of the “Sadie Hawkins Ballet,” missing finale material, and some never-heard-before original-cast moments. To top it off, folded in as bonus tracks are a Rosemary Clooney single of a fine song that was cut from the show, “It’s a Nuisance Having You Around,” and a Percy Faith instrumental of another out-of-town casualty, “The Way to a Man’s Heart.” All of this stretches the CD’s length to a generous 72 minutes. The cast album portion of it is a first-class Goddard Lieberson recording of a quintessential Golden Age smash, with a score that boasts strong Gene DePaul melodies and incomparable Johnny Mercer lyrics. The rhymes are ingenious, the satire still pertinent (there’s even a funny song about genetic engineering), the Dogpatch idiom even more resonant than it was in Capp’s strip. Although Peter Palmer as L’il Abner sounds a little stiff on the recording, he was so ideally cast that he had a hard time thereafter getting casting directors to picture him in any other role. Edith (Edie) Adams sings sweetly and sexily as Daisy Mae, and Stubby Kaye’s Marryin’ Sam shines in show-stopping material. One only wishes that Charlotte Rae, as Mammy Yokum, had a whole song to herself instead of just a few bars of the opening number. Lehman Engel’s musical direction displays enormous verve from the overture’s first rockabilly notes. By the way, notice the gaffe in “Put ‘Em Back,” when a chorus girl comes in early and then stops herself short. — Marc Miller

Film Soundtrack, 1959 (Columbia/Sony) (2 / 5) Paramount’s film version of Li’l Abner was among the most faithful of its era, retaining a lot of the Broadway score and several of the leading players, as well as a stage-bound production design. So there are few surprises on this soundtrack album. Among the pluses: Peter Palmer has loosened up a lot, Nelson Riddle’s new arrangements are fresh and snazzy, and this recording is in end-to-end stereo. But there are minuses: Several stage songs are missing; the one new ballad, “Otherwise,” doesn’t equal the one it replaced, “Love in a Home”; some of Mercer’s lyrics were dumbed down for the movie; and Imogene Lynn, the voice double for Leslie Parrish’s Daisy Mae, hasn’t as much style as her stage counterpart, Edith (Edie) Adams. Still, the album is a pleasant souvenir of one of the better ’50s stage-to-screen transcriptions. — M.M.

Original Broadway Cast, 1997 (Sony) (4 / 5) The Life opened just as Times Square was being cleaned up and turned into a tourist-friendly theme park. It captured the Best Musical prize from the Drama Desk, Drama League, and the Outer Critics Circle, and ran for 465 performances. This tasty cast album preserves the two best elements of the show: its largely terrific, tuneful score by composer Cy Coleman and lyricist Ira Gasman, and vivacious, charismatic performances that practically leap from the recording. The score’s pulsating, rhythmic, lowdown groove is very different from other shows of the period, as one peak follows another. Sam Harris and company hit a home run early on with “Use What You Got.” Pamela Isaacs, the hooker with a head voice, gives out with the funky “A Lovely Day to Be Out of Jail” and the gorgeous ballad “He’s No Good.” The show-stopping, comedic “The Oldest Profession” is sung for all its worth by Lillias White. Chuck Cooper won a Tony for his performance as a “cold-blooded, sweet talkin’, jive ass, motherfuckin’ son of a bitch” pimp called Memphis; his “My Way or the Highway” and “Don’t Take Much” are here to be savored. Other delights include the show’s ensemble numbers, especially the toe-tapping “Hooker’s Ball,” led by Vernel Bagneris, and the ladies’ rocking, high-belt anthem “My Body.” The album concludes beautifully with Isaacs and White performing the touching duet “My Friend.” A few passages of recitative may strike some listeners as an uneasy fit with the overall style of the piece, but, all things considered, The Life is a welcome breath of grimy New York City air in an era when Times Square has been sanitized. — Morgan Sills

Original Broadway Cast, 1961 (RCA/no CD) (1 / 5) Apologies to songwriters Jay Livingston and Ray Evans, but here’s the show with arguably the worst title song in the history of Broadway — and that includes Happy Hunting. While the doleful tune isn’t heard until track six of the first side of the LP, by then, this pallid adaptation of Three Men on a Horse has already proven its lack of worth. The show starts with a chorus singing about how they must “Run, Run, Run” the rat race, but the melody erroneously suggests joy. Then comes the saccharine “The Nicest Thing,” in which a wife tells her husband why she loves him, followed by “Hey, Jimmy, Joe, John, Jim, Jack,” sung by George Gobel in his horribly nasal voice. That voice also spoils the score’s ace trump, “His Own Little Island,” a song that should be better known — which is more than can be said for “Broads Ain’t People.” Moving on, you’d expect that a song titled “Love, Let Me Know” would be plaintive, but the melody for it is brisk. There is an item that would spark the dullest party, the kitschy stripper’s song “I Wouldn’t’ve Had to Shake It.” Still, by the time you reach “There’s Something About a Horse,” you’ll have realized that little about Let It Ride is worth the trip. — Peter Filichia

New York Concert Cast, 1987 (Sony, 2CDs, paired with Of Thee I Sing) (4 / 5) This performance doesn’t vary much in character from the dully dutiful reading of the Gershwins’ Of Thee I Sing that accompanies it. But Let ‘Em Eat Cake, a 1933 George and Ira Gershwin-George S. Kaufman-Morrie Ryskind sequel to that Pulitzer Prize winner, is so darkly different, and the music so fascinating, that it’s easily the more rewarding listening experience. (Most of the score was previously unrecorded.) The show pokes fun at unions, socialists, capitalists, influence brokers, the League of Nations, and baseball. You can understand why it was rejected by critics and audiences — it’s too acerbic and almost hysterically bitter, with little of its predecessor’s sly good humor — but it’s stupendous from a musical standpoint. The riches start immediately as a dissonant, percussive overture segues into “Tweedledee for President,” and the score throughout is highly adventurous. (It’s as if we can hear George warming up for Porgy and Bess.) Maureen McGovern leads “Mothers of the Nation,” a real find with a mock-sanctimonious lyric wedded to a soaring, anthem-like melody. Incidental numbers and ensembles like “Union Square,” “They’re Hanging Throttlebottom in the Morning,” and the ferocious title song show two geniuses pushing against the walls of musical theater convention with all their might. The performances of Paige O’Hara and David Garrison are enormous assets here, as they are in Of Thee I Sing,  and Michael Tilson Thomas’s conducting sounds energized by the prospect of reintroducing so much marvelous material to the world. — Marc Miller

Original London Cast, 1985 (First Night/Relativity, 2CDs) (2 / 5) Claude-Michel Schönberg  (“musique”) and Alain Boublil and Jean-Marc Natel (“textes”) originally created Les Misérables as what amounted to a song cycle inspired by Victor Hugo’s massive novel of the same title. The 1980 French-language “concept album” of that work contains less than 90 minutes of material. No doubt assuming that every self-respecting Frenchman knows the novel well, the creators did not try to cover the entire plot in the songs they wrote. But when British producer Cameron Mackintosh saw a stage version of the work in Paris, he decided that Les Miz (or Les Mis), as it would come to be known the world over, should be translated into English and turned into a through-sung musical that would attempt to tell the full story of Hugo’s epic work. Herbert Kretzmer was hired to do the English adaptation, and he performed this herculean task probably as well as anyone could have done, but that doesn’t mean the result is an artistic success. The problem is that, although the Mackintosh Les Misérables is more than twice as long as the original French version, Schönberg wrote only a comparatively small amount of new music for it. The extra hour and a half contains pages of banal sung dialogue and endless recycling of music that make no sense. To offer only two examples of the latter:  The gorgeous melody that’s first heard in Fantine’s deathbed lament “Come to Me” is later repeated note-for-note as Eponine’s “On My Own,” with only the key and lyrics changed; and the tune of the prostitutes’ Act I song “Lovely Ladies” recurs in Act II in a completely unrelated context, sung by a group of women mourning the dead revolutionaries. (Les Miz probably would have been much better as a book musical with spoken-dialogue scenes, rather than a sung-through work. That approach would have served the double purpose of allowing more of the plot to be covered in less time while avoiding the repetition of so many melodies with alternate lyrics.) Among the score’s best moments are “At the End of the Day,” a moving song for the wretched masses; the students’ stirring anthem “Do You Hear the People Sing?”; and Marius’ “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables,” affectingly performed by the young Michael Ball on this recording. Colm Wilkinson displays a magnificent, versatile voice in the role of Jean Valjean, though some listeners may find it hard to adjust to his odd accent and mannerisms. Patti LuPone is superb in the brief role of Fantine, singing the beautiful “I Dreamed a Dream” for all its worth; and Roger Allam is dramatically committed as Inspector Javert, if a little insecure from a vocal standpoint. As Eponine, Frances Ruffelle sounds mush-mouthed and whiny. Sue Jane Tanner and Alun Armstrong are somewhat amusing as the Thénardiers, but the fact that these originally evil characters are used for comic relief in the musical is indicative of the show’s larger problems. — Michael Portantiere

Original Broadway Cast, 1987 (Decca, 2CDs) (2 / 5) There are a few reasons to consider this recording as an alternative or addendum to the one reviewed above. Randy Graff is a wonderful Fantine, Terrence Mann as Javert has better vocal technique than Roger Allam, and Michael Maguire is a stalwart Enjolras. This recording also contains some music not to be heard on the original London cast album, most notably Jean Valjean’s “Bring Him Home” — a truly beautiful song, even if its main melody sounds like that of the “Humming Chorus” from Puccini’s Madama Butterfly, a debt that Claude-Michel Schönberg has reportedly acknowledged. Otherwise, this two-disc set isn’t a whole lot different from its predecessor.  Colm Wilkinson and Frances Ruffelle are back as Valjean and Eponine, the latter an unfortunate return to the ears of some listeners. — M.P.

The Complete Symphonic Recording, 1988 (First Night, 3CDs) (1 / 5) The star here is Gary Morris, an American country-western singer who had played Valjean early in the run of the original Broadway production of Les Misérables. Unfortunately, Morris’ accent and mannerisms are just as odd as Colm Wilkinson’s in the role, and his voice isn’t nearly as good. As heard here, Morris has a vibrato so wide that it’s really a wobble; every sustained note he sings is really two notes, and it isn’t pretty. Given that his singing of the show’s central role is almost unlistenable, the strengths of this recording seem beside the point. Still, for what it’s worth: Philip Quast as Javert and Anthony Warlow as Enjolras are excellent, Michael Ball is back as Marius, and Tracy Shayne sings prettily as Cossette. Also, Debbie Byrne as Fantine delivers the high notes of “I Dreamed a Dream” without belting, and some listeners may therefore prefer her performance to Patti LuPone’s and Randy Graff’s. As Eponine, Kaho Shimada has a better voice than Frances Ruffelle — but, annoyingly, she seems to imitate Ruffelle’s inflections and enunciations. The London Philharmonia orchestra sounds huge and impressive. This is a complete recording of the score, but none of the extra music you’ll find here is worth writing home about. — M.P.

London Concert Cast, 1995 (First Night, 2CDs) (2 / 5) This is a live recording of a concert that was given at the Royal Albert Hall to mark the tenth anniversary of the opening of Les Misérables in London, and there’s quite a sense of occasion about it. In total, some 250 performers took part, and the orchestra is no less than the Royal Philharmonic, conducted by David Charles Abell. At the end of the second disc, Jean Valjeans from many worldwide companies may be heard delivering various lines of “Do You Hear the People Sing?” in various languages. If you want to choose only one recording of this score for your library, this may be your best option. To begin with, it’s the only one that gives you Colm Wilkinson as Valjean while allowing you to avoid Frances Ruffelle as Eponine, should you choose to do so. Here, Eponine is Lea Salonga, whose lovely, unaffected singing of “On My Own” and the rest of the character’s music is a great pleasure. Other major roles are filled by some of the most talented singing actors to have played them: Philip Quast as Javert, Ruthie Henshall as Fantine, Michael Ball as Marius, Michael Maguire as Enjolras, and Judy Kuhn as Cossette. Note that a video recording of this concert is also available. — M.P.

Manchester Concert Cast, 2010 (First Night, 2CDs) (2 / 5) Here’s a live recording of a concert that was presented at the Palace Theatre in Manchester, England on December 12, 2009 — but the album was released in 2010, hence the date on the packaging. With new orchestrations that were first introduced in 2006, the concert was intended to commemorate 25 years of Les Misérables in English; it should not be confused with the 25th anniversary concert that starred Alfie Boe, Norm Lewis, Nick Jonas, Lea Salonga, et al., separately available on video but not in the form of an audio-only cast album. (Some would say there are more recordings of Les Miz than necessary, and that a few of them are confusingly labeled.) The cast here is headed by John-Owen Jones as Valjean, Earl Carpenter as Javert, and Madalena Alberto as Fantine, with Gareth Gates as Marius, Katie Hall as Cosette, Jon Robyns as Enjolras, Rosalind James as Eponine, Katie Hall as Cosette, and Ashley Artus and Lynne Wilmot as the Thénardiers. All of the performances are fine if not especially distinctive, perhaps with the exception of Alberto; she brings to “I Dreamed a Dream” a sweet-yet-strong tone that allows her to communicate the emotional power of the song without sounding unpleasant when she gets to the high-belt sections of it. New orchestrations by Stephen Metcalfe and Chris Jahnke do not sound significantly different from the originals, so one might question the point behind them.  — M.P.

Film Soundtrack, 2012 (Republic Records, 2CDs) (1 / 5)  A box-office hit, the film version of Les Misérables earned some critical praise for director Tom Hooper’s big-screen adaptation of the musical in a way that made for somewhat clearer storytelling and more effective drama than the original stage production had to offer, yet the film and its soundtrack album must be regarded as a failure in that at least two of the stars are seriously over-parted from a vocal standpoint. Hugh Jackman began his career in musical theater, and he had great success in that sphere in such roles as Curly in Oklahoma! and Peter Allen in The Boy From Oz, but it turned out that his voice is just not right for Jean Valjean in Les Mis in terms of timbre, power, or technique, often exhibiting a buzz-saw quality and a significant wobble. Even more of a trial to hear is Russell Crowe, who as Javert sounds like exactly what he is: a movie star with lots of screen presence but almost no singing experience or ability. Vocal honors for the film go to Anne Hathaway as Fantine and Samantha Barks as Eponine, who respectively offer moving performances of “I Dreamed a Dream” and “On My Own.” Aaron Tveit, from Broadway, brings a strong baritenor to Enjolras, and Eddie Redmayne as Marius sings surprisingly well considering that he, too, was not previously known as a vocalist, but Amanda Seyfried’s soprano sounds wispy and fluttery in Cosette’s music. Sacha Baron Cohen is fun as Thénardier, and as his wife, Helena Bonham Carter is not woefully miscast as she was in the film of Sweeney Todd.  Note: When this movie was released, much was made of the fact that a very large percentage of the singing in it was performed live during filming, which presumably was a further handicap for Jackman and Crowe in particular.  — M.P.

Original Broadway Cast, 1989 (RCA) (3 / 5) This show did not work onstage, but some of the songs and performances on the cast album are fun.  Peter Allen, though woefully miscast as a tough-guy gangster, rips joyfully into “When I Get My Name in Lights” and is very effective in the big ballad “Sure Thing, Baby.” He swings through “Steal From Thieves” with Randall Edwards, seems to be having a ball with Julie Wilson in “Only an Older Woman,” and makes the most of “Now You See Me, Now You Don’t.” Wilson takes the mediocre number “The Music Went Out of My Life” and wrings lots of emotion from of it, but the female trio “The Man Nobody Could Love” doesn’t quite land. This recording preserves a mediocre Peter Allen score with a few bright spots; you’ll probably want to use your remote to get to the good stuff. The album has some added interest in that quite a few of the Legs Diamond songs turned up again years later in the Allen biomusical The Boy From Oz. — Jeffrey Dunn

San Francisco Cast, 2001 (42nd Street Moon) (4 / 5) With political satire a mainstay of 1930s musicals (the Gershwins’ Of Thee I Sing, Rodgers and Hart’s I’d Rather Be Right, Irving Berlin’s Louisiana Purchase), Cole Porter’s turn came in 1938 with Leave It to Me! An amusing if none-too-penetrating look at U.S.-Soviet relations, the show was both a critical and financial success, but history remembers it only as the musical that made Mary Martin a star as she sang and stripteased her way through “My Heart Belongs to Daddy.” Martin’s role was subsidiary to those of Sophie Tucker, Victor Moore, William Gaxton, and Tamara; in hindsight, her success overshadowed the contributions of the stars and the rest of Porter’s score, highlights of which include “Get Out of Town” and the cheeky “Most Gentlemen Don’t Like Love,” the latter with its references to Sappho and rolls in the hay. As with many other Porter shows, Leave It to Me! was neither recorded (except for a couple of Martin cuts) nor filmed, and it is almost never revived. Fortunately, 60 years after the fact, San Francisco’s 42nd Street Moon company tackled it. While most of the original arrangements did not survive, musical director Dave Dobrianksy did a fine job of piecing together the enjoyable score — dance breaks and all. Of course, the lyrics are incredibly witty; in “I’m Taking the Steps to Russia,” Porter rhymes “Harlem rhythm” with “Communithm.” The cast is accomplished, the scaled-down orchestra is dandy, and Marc Miller’s notes are clever and informative. — Richard Barrios

Off-Broadway Cast, 1959 (Strand/AEI) (2 / 5) The “Princess Theater” musicals of Jerome Kern, Guy Bolton, and P. G. Wodehouse form an important chapter in musical theater history that is badly underrepresented on recordings. Although Leave It to Jane, a 1917 college musical, didn’t actually play the Princess, its tight construction, modest production values, and good humor make it a close relative. So let’s be grateful that a cast album was made for this revival, which was a big hit in a tiny theater. (To make their entrances, the actors actually had to go out to the street, down a transom, and through the audience.) That said, the recording is largely a botch. Kern’s graceful, lilting melodies are indestructible, and Wodehouse’s lyrics display his signature wit and self-effacement. But Joseph Stecko, conducting an underpopulated orchestra, wreaks havoc: “The Crickets Are Calling” is supposed to be slow and reflective, not a slapstick chase. Conversely, “There It Is Again” plods here. Kathleen Murray as Jane must have been very charming onstage, because she certainly can’t sing. Dorothy Greener puts “Cleopatterer” across but doesn’t convey the funny/sad pathos of “Poor Prune.” A young George Segal is in the chorus, but you won’t hear him. The show itself remains entirely stage-worthy, with a laugh-out-loud book and a score that’s eminently lovable. — Marc Miller

Concert Cast (Comic Opera Guild, 2003; available through comicoperaguild.org) (2 / 5) The Ann Arbor, Michigan-based Comic Opera Guild delights in resurrecting early musical comedy and operetta scores that no one else would think of recording. (The Ameer, anyone?) Their Leave It to Jane is typically dutiful and a little dull; Jane (Diane McEwen-Martin) has a pretty soprano but almost no characterization, nor does leading man Glenn Perry make much of an impression. Among the supporting players, only the Stub Talmadge of David Troiano exhibits some personality, and Katie Cillufo’s Flora misses all the jokes in “Cleopatterer.” Some of the choral lyrics are hard to discern (this is a live recording), and one number from Kern’s Oh, Boy! is bizarrely ushered in to buttress the finale. But hey, it’s a charming score, and the two-piano arrangements are occasionally quite tasty. — M.M.

Studio Cast, 1988 (Original Cast Records) No stars; not recommended. This vaguely autobiographical musical by composer-lyricist Brian Gari, with a book by Allan Knee, lasted for only 15 previews and four performances on Broadway, and it’s not hard to understand why. The plot, such as it is, concerns the off-and-on relationship between a pianist who wants to be a standup comedian and an “off-the-wall” (so the synopsis says) ballet dancer who keeps changing her name. Most of the songs are performed by Gari, whose thin, squeaky voice is even worse than his songs, and Julie Budd, whose singing almost manages to transcend the poor material. Michael McAssey (from the Broadway production) and Robin Kaiser put in special appearances; he and Gari function as the male chorus, she sings a terrible song in the guise of a hooker. The capper is the “bonus track,” an unintentionally hilarious number titled “Late Night Saga” in which Gari melodramatically recounts the sob story of his musical’s fate. It offers the recording’s sole moment of genuine enjoyment in the form of a quote from an unidentified theater critic: “Late Nite Comic, my friends, is so bad that when I went outside for intermission, I stood under the marquee of another theater.” — Seth Christenfeld

Original Off-Broadway Cast, 1970 (RCA) (2 / 5) Three years after their debut show, Now Is the Time for All Good Men, which was studded with well-crafted lyrics and lovely ballads, composer Nancy Ford and librettist-lyricist Gretchen Cryer appeared to have struck gold with The Last Sweet Days of Isaac. Very well reviewed and the winner of Obie, Drama Desk, and Outer Critics Circle awards, the show seemed a shoo-in headed for a long run, but there was just one problem: It didn’t have a second act, and audiences balked. Act I, represented by more or less the first half of this recording, is literate, odd, and very funny. It introduces us to the self-dramatizing Isaac, convinced that his every moment on earth is his last, and Ingrid, an inhibited secretary who has always longed to be a poet. These two are stuck together in an elevator. Onstage, Austin Pendleton was genuinely hilarious and wildly endearing as Isaac; his recorded performance is also wonderful, especially in a terrific song titled  “My Most Important Moments Go By.” As Ingrid, Fredricka Weber was quirky and appealing, sang well, and even played the trumpet! Still, this was Pendleton’s show, if “show” is the correct word. I don’t think there’s a coherent moment in the second act, which again focuses on Isaac and Ingrid. Here, they’re locked in individual prison cells 14 years earlier, able to communicate only through video cameras. — David Wolf