Original Broadway Cast, 1968 (Capitol) (5 / 5) Are you sitting down? When I saw Zorba in its original Broadway production (not the horrible Anthony Quinn revival; see below), I thought it a better show than Cabaret, the previous Broadway outing of the team that put this show together: composer John Kander, lyricist Fred Ebb, and director Harold Prince. To me, Zorba is more emotional, deals with life more broadly, and is brilliantly theatrical. Whereas many Kander and Ebb musicals are made up of a succession of special-material songs, this one has an honest, mature, character- and plot-driven score. The opening number, “Life Is,” perfectly sets the theme of the evening. (The first line, “Life is what you do while you’re waiting to die,” was watered down to “Life is what you do till the moment you die” for later productions.) “Happy Birthday” is a wonderfully touching number for the death scene of Madame Hortense, while “Why Can’t I Speak” is a very beautiful song that exemplifies the protagonist Niko’s emotional problems. Although some of the events in Joseph Stein’s libretto are tragic, the audience leaves the theater moved, enlightened, even uplifted — and the cast album has the same effect on the listener. Herschel Bernardi, Maria Karnilova, John Cunningham, Carmen Alvarez, and Lorraine Serabian drive the recording with their sincerity, energy, and abundant talent.  — Ken Bloom

Broadway Cast, 1983 (RCA) (2 / 5) Anthony Quinn and Lila Kedrova, who so memorably played the title character and Mme. Hortense in the 1964 non-musical film Zorba the Greek, starred in this revival of the Kander-Ebb-Stein musical Zorba under the direction of  Michael Cacoyannis, who had directed the film. Unfortunately, Quinn sings so poorly here that many listeners will find this recording unlistenable. The other performers, including Robert Westenberg as Niko and Debbie Shapiro (later Debbie Shapiro Gravitte, later Debbie Gravitte) as The Woman (previously known as the Leader), fare much better, but the original Broadway cast recording is the one to get. — K.B.

Original Off-Broadway Cast, 1996 (First Night) (4 / 5) The talented team of librettist-lyricist John Dempsey and composer Dana P. Rowe mined the familiar terrain of Little Shop/Rocky Horror teen-nostalgia-science-fiction-horror, then threw in a little Bye Bye Birdie and Grease, and came up with this short-running, Off-Broadway lark. As the title suggests, it’s about an undead senior in Eisenhower’s America who comes back to attend his high school prom and reclaim the love of Toffee, his sweetheart. Sure, Zombie Prom is a goof — but it’s a well-structured, modestly scaled goof with smart pastiche melodies and fun, intelligent lyrics that really rhyme. Listen to how smoothly the songs segue into dialogue and into other songs on this spiffily produced recording, which features an appreciative essay by musical theater historian Martin Gottfried. And the cast is among the best of the 1990s: Jessica-Snow Wilson is quite an adorable Toffee (“Where once that girl was effervescent / She’s now a poster-child depressant / A problematic post-pubescent”), while Richard Roland is a sweet, supple-voiced zombie. As a scandal-sheet editor who gets mixed up with the denizens of Enrico Fermi High, Richard Muenz for once finds a role wherein his natural hamminess is an asset. And as Delilah Strict, the school’s horrifying principal, Karen Murphy is a powerful-voiced camp diva with just the right sense of mockery. In the theater, her “Rules, Regulations, and Respect” stopped the show; we’re lucky to have it preserved here. — Marc Miller

Encores! Concert Cast, 1999 (Decca) (5 / 5) You can always tell an overture arranged and orchestrated by Hans Spialek: The brass section announces something important, the woodwinds flutter and swoop upward in anticipation, and the tension builds to a point where the only thing that can break it is a great song. Spialek’s overture to Vernon Duke’s score for Ziegfeld Follies of 1936 takes in one standard (“I Can’t Get Started”) and several interesting not-quite-standards (“My Red-Letter Day,” “Words Without Music,” “Island in the West Indies”). As conducted superbly by Rob Fisher, it’s the entry point to one of the most fully realized excursions into the past ever attempted by City Center Encores! With the series’ repertoire having grown safer over the years, this title was a real anomaly: an ancient, not particularly well-regarded topical revue with forgotten Ira Gershwin lyrics and an all-star cast that could never be replicated. Well, are you in for a surprise. Nearly every number is a gem, and nearly every member of the Encores! cast is up to the material. “Words Without Music” has one of the strangest, most sophisticated melodies written for Broadway in the 1930s, and Ruthie Henshall matches Gertrude Niesen, who introduced it, for individuality; throaty and idiosyncratic, Henshall is like Tammy Grimes with more musicality. Christine Ebersole, handling Eve Arden’s songs, is insinuating in “Island in the West Indies” (which serves up another fabulous Spialek arrangement) and hilarious in “The Economic Situation,” a fascinating Gershwin curiosity. Later, Ebersole shares “I Can’t Get Started” with Peter Scolari, who perfectly emulates Bob Hope’s comic-leading-man timing and light-but-secure voice. So luxurious is the casting that such Broadway stalwarts as Howard McGillin, Jim and Bob Walton, and Karen Ziemba are nearly crowded out, though all are exemplary in what they’re given to do. Stephanie Pope lacks heat here, and Mary Testa is a slightly bland Fanny Brice — but when a time capsule is this beautifully engineered, the best thing to do is stifle all quibbles, climb aboard, and enjoy the ride. Great cover art, too. — Marc Miller

Original Cast, 1919-20 (Smithsonian/no CD) (3 / 5) By the time of its 13th edition, Ziegfeld’s legendary beauty-and-music revue was a Broadway institution. Some historians hold that this 1919 version was the greatest of all Follies, although others feel that the 1936 version, headlined by Bob Hope and Josephine Baker, brought the revue to a brilliant, posthumous apex four years after Ziegfeld’s death. Fortunately, a large number of recordings exist to back up claims for the Ziegfield Follies of 1919. This was probably the most star-laden of all the editions: Eddie Cantor, Bert Williams, Marilyn Miller, Van and Schenck, Eddie Dowling, and, in a cornerstone of Broadway mythology, tenor John Steel introducing Irving Berlin’s “A Pretty Girl Is Like a Melody.” Not all of the cast members made recordings of their contributions, but enough remained for The Smithsonian Collection to issue a fine compilation. Here is the tragically short-lived Williams in “Somebody” and “Everybody Wants a Key to My Cellar,” Cantor having a ball with Berlin’s “You’d Be Surprised,” and Van and Schenck’s distinctive, close harmony in “”Mandy.” The sound quality of these acoustical recordings is variable and distinctly Io-fi, but here is history come to life. (One succulent item was dropped from the show during tryouts and not recorded: “Perfume of Opium.”) The album’s annotations are excellent. — Richard Barrios

Original Off-Broadway Cast, 2003 (PS Classics) (2 / 5) Like the show itself, the cast recording of composer-lyricist Tim Acito’s “musical fairy tale” Zanna, Don’t! will probably appeal mainly to teenagers or early-twentysomethings with limited interest in musical theater. Anyone with more sophisticated taste will find Acito’s work unpolished and sometimes downright sloppy. His music is generally fine, a series of pop-influenced melodies well in keeping with the youthful, bouncy tone that helps sell this musical about a world where homosexuality is the dominant orientation. But Acito’s lyrics may cause fits among purists, because they’re inaccurately stressed throughout and very poorly rhymed, as in: “love/enough,” “lover/another,” “clues/you,” “this/is,” and “town/around” — all of these examples from the first song alone. Lyrical transgressions aside, Acito’s songs make for moderately enjoyable listening, with at least one — a high-school musical spoof about heterosexuals in the military, titled “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” — demonstrating a cleverness that’s worthy of notice. Jai Rodriguez gives an endearing performance as the title character, who’s determined to help his classmates find love, but it’s Anika Larsen’s high belting in “I Ain’t Got Time (for Nothin’ But Love)” that brings Zanna, Don’t! as close as it gets to real excitement. — Matthew Murray

Original Broadway Cast, 1981 (Arista/Masterworks Broadway) (2 / 5) This is a musicalized update of the famous Hepburn-Tracy movie of the same title, with the plot changed so that it now concerns a television anchorwoman and a cartoonist. The show is not one of composer John Kander and lyricist Fred Ebb’s better efforts. In the title role, Lauren Bacall sings in a foghorn voice that sounds far worse than it did 11 years earlier in Applause, and the star also seems overwhelmed by having too much to do. On the recording, her limitations are clear in every number — such as “When You’re Right, You’re Right,” her apology to the cartoonist (played by Harry Guardino); “One of the Boys,” in which she bonds with him and his colleagues; and “I Wrote the Book,” a pleasant ragtime number save for the fact that Bacall is singing it. Guardino’s big ballad, “Sometimes a Day Goes By,” is rather boring. Three other number delight in their negativity: “It Isn’t Working,” “I Told You So,” and “Shut Up, Gerald.” Just when the whole enterprise seems doomed, out comes Marilyn Cooper to duet with Bacall in “The Grass Is Always Greener,” a wonderful comedic showstopper and the only reason to buy this recording. — Peter Filichia

Film Soundtrack, 1939 (MGM/Rhino-Turner) (5 / 5) Is it an overstatement to call MGM’s The Wizard of Oz the world’s most beloved film? Happily, a superb job has been done with the latest edition of the soundtrack recording of this gem, and we owe thanks to Marilee Bradford and Bradley Flanagan for doing it so neatly and completely. Many of us have fond memories of an old MGM “highlights” LP, but here we get all of the music from the movie, in the best possible sound. What’s most impressive is all the musical detail that may be heard clearly for the first time. Yes, we know “Over the Rainbow” and the other great Harold Arlen-E.Y. Harburg songs performed by Judy Garland, Ray Bolger, Jack Haley, Bert Lahr, and Frank Morgan, but the background music by Herbert Stothart represents Hollywood scoring at its peak. Included on the two-CD version of the soundtrack are several other treats: multiple takes of many songs, including one of “Over the Rainbow” that comes to a premature stop with a big sneeze/cough from Garland; the song “Jitterbug,” cut from the film, but tuneful and fun to hear; and the original Buddy Ebsen recording of”If I Only Had a Heart,” made before Ebsen’s reaction to the Tin Man’s aluminum makeup forced his replacement by the far more suitable Haley. Another bonus with the two-disc set is a sumptuous booklet with rare photos and detailed notes. — Richard Barrios

Original London Cast, 1989 (JAY) (2 / 5) What was more inevitable than a stage version of the extraordinarily popular MGM film The Wizard of Oz? By the 1960s, productions were cropping up everywhere; one of them even had the wonderful Margaret Hamilton reprising her definitive performance as the Wicked Witch of the West. But the most determined effort to put Oz onstage came in the 1980s, by no less a force than London’s Royal Shakespeare Company. The film’s orchestrations were recreated, its special effects adapted, and variations of this production have been performed numerous times since. The cast recording is in no way comparable to the movie soundtrack, but it’s passable. Conductor John Owen Edwards’ tempi differ from those in the movie, and while the orchestra plays well, the results are somewhat jolting. The cast varies wildly, from a sweet Dorothy (Gillian Bevan) to an undistinguished Scarecrow-Tin Man-Lion trio to a geriatric Glinda (Joyce Grant, who doubles as Aunt Em) and a literal drag of a Miss Gulch/Wicked Witch (the coyly named Bille Brown). Of course, the score itself is imperishable. — R.B.

New York Concert Cast, 1996 (Rhino-Turner) (1 / 5) Roger Daltrey as the Tin Man? Jackson Browne as the Scarecrow? Debra Winger as Miss Gulch and the Witch? Yes indeedy, that was the casting of a televised Lincoln Center concert version of The Wizard of Oz, performed only once for charity. But this recording also gives us Nathan Lane as quite a good Cowardly Lion. Of Browne and Daltrey, it might be said that they try hard. While Winger has some fun with her devilish doings, Natalie Cole’s Glinda sounds extremely tentative. The Boys Choir of Harlem makes sweet sounds as the Munchkins, and the idea of casting Joel Grey as the Wizard was so good that it was carried forward to the Broadway musical “prequel” Wicked. Unfortunately, nothing that’s good about this recording can overcome its terminal handicap: the horrific portrayal of Dorothy by Jewel, with her unending overlay of American Idol-style swoops and gulps. Those who revere “Over the Rainbow” are officially alerted that we’re not in Kansas anymore! — R.B.

Madison Square Garden Cast, 1998 (TVT) (3 / 5) This version of The Wizard of Oz was adapted from the Royal Shakespeare Company edition and an interim production by the Paper Mill Playhouse. The double role of Professor Marvel/The Wizard was taken by Mickey Rooney, who at age 78 was still a very game performer. As Miss Gulch and the Wicked Witch, Eartha Kitt has the time of her life, funneling her purring persona into this nasty pair. (Thank you, producers, for giving the bewitching Kitt the reinstated “Jitterbug” number, in which the prescient lyricist E. Y. Harburg supplied lots of “r”s to rrrrroll!) While Jessica Grové is a pleasing Dorothy and Lara Teeter a good Scarecrow, Ken Page goes a bit over the top as the Lion. Another problem is the recorded sound, reverberant and bass-ridden. This Oz may not cast the spell of the movie, but it has its own moments of magic. — R.B.

London Cast, 2011 (Verve) No stars; not recommended. If the movie posited  Oz as a dream, why not a bloated stage version of The Wizard of Oz that is, in effect, a nightmare? Surely some of the impetus for this 21st century “reimagining” was the worldwide hit Wicked. Still, why take on such a cherished film, given what must be the widely held opinion — already stated here, above — that no stage production could duplicate, let alone equal, its magic or its cast? Then again, such considerations may be of lesser import to The Right Honourable Andrew, Lord Lloyd-Webber. The Wizard of the West End determined that Oz’s yellow road would benefit from some brick-gilding, which included his writing six new songs with lyrics by Tim Rice; signing the master’s own Phantom, Michael Crawford, for the title role; and casting Dorothy (Danielle Hope) by way of a televised “Over the Rainbow” talent hunt. The result opened at the London Palladium to mixed reviews, with the most praise going to the sets, costumes, and effects. Later, there would later be a Toronto run and a North American tour. (So far, no plans for Broadway. Keep your fingers crossed.) All involved professed their love for the original — but with synthesizer-heavy rearrangements and the unavoidable clash between 1939 and 2011 aesthetics, this show was doomed from the get-go. The offenses are many and unending: a lament for Dorothy called “Nobody Understands Me,” Miss Gulch’s original, immortal “bicycle theme” (by Herbert Stothart) being outfitted with lyrics, the deletion of “If I Were King of the Forest,” a “Red Shoe Blues” (!!) for the Witch, and much, much more. Hope is an OK Dorothy in a chirpy sort of way. Her three farmhand-turned-creature pals tend to sound alike, and Crawford manages a twee sort of authority.  In summary: Remember the adage “There’s no place like home,” and stick with Garland and company. — R.B.

Studio Recordings, Piano Rolls, Music-Box Discs, 1903-08 (Hungry Tiger Press, 2CDs) (3 / 5) Shortly after L. Frank Baum published The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, a stage musical version became the biggest hit on Broadway. Finally, a century after the show opened, a masterful CD anthology reconstituted it in audio form. Great credit is due to producer David Maxine, for whom this daunting project was obviously a labor of love: There were no cast recordings, the sheet music survived only in fragments, and the show never had a set score. Originally, Baum worked on the book and lyrics, and Paul Tietjens wrote some music for the show, but those rather halting efforts soon gave way to a never-ending batch of interpolated songs. (The name A. Baldwin Sloane, frequently cited as the composer of the show, is nowhere in evidence here.) As Maxine’s detailed notes make clear, The Wizard of Oz was topical and performer-driven, its material dropped in and removed incessantly. Among the more popular numbers were “Sammy,” “Hurrah for Baffin’s Bay,” and the cheerfully sadistic “Football.” If these titles don’t sound like they should be found on the road to Oz, the plot synopsis indicates just how little of the Baum book remained; even the Cowardly Lion was reduced to the status of a bit player. The two CDs of this set are crammed with all manner of curiosities. The bulk of them are acoustical studio recordings of the songs, but a few numbers exist solely as piano rolls or as music-box tunes. Also included are some non-Oz songs recorded by members of the original cast. Obviously, the “score” is a patchwork, and very little of it is better than mediocre, but it’s helpful that the lyrics are printed in the accompanying booklet. — Richard Barrios

Original Broadway Cast, 1975 (Atlantic) (3 / 5) L. Frank Baum hit theatrical pay dirt with The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Two years after the novel’s publication in 1900, Baum and partners launched a musical extravaganza based on the tale; the show was a sensation, racking up hundreds of performances in New York and around the country. After countless other adaptations, including an obscure 1939 film that starred some nobody named Judy Garland, Dorothy and her pals returned to Broadway in The Wiz, an African-American musical version of the story with a brisk book by William F. Brown and fun songs by composer-lyricist Charlie Smalls. Among the very few Broadway tunes to become mainstream hits since the 1960s, this score’s infectious “Ease on Down the Road” got a lot of airplay, and Dorothy’s yearning 11-o’clock number, “Home,” put Stephanie Mills (who played the heroine) on the pop map. The Wiz enjoyed a long run and nabbed a bunch of Tony Awards, including Best Musical. Geoffrey Holder’s clever costumes and inventive direction helped turn the old tale into a fresh hit. Heard on the recording are several stellar turns in character roles: Clarice Taylor’s Addaperle (think Good Witch of the North) is a daffy, knowing delight; Tiger Haynes’s Tin Man is a smooth song-and-dance man; Hinton Battle’s Scarecrow is sweet as pie; and Ted Ross’s Lion is full of bravado. Mabel King sounds like a truly wicked witch, and her gospel-inflected “Don’t Nobody Bring Me No Bad News” proves that, for Evillene, double negatives ain’t the half of it. André De Shields is perhaps  a bit too campy as the Wiz, sounding like a real friend of Dorothy. The arrangements are terrific, full of energy and Soul Train-style bounce.  — Robert Sandla

Film Soundtrack, 1978 (MCA, 2CDs) (1 / 5) What is it about Hollywood versions of Broadway musicals? Time and again, shows that worked onstage bomb big-time on screen. The Wiz seemed a natural for filming: It was a Tony-winning Broadway success, some of the songs had hit the pop charts, and the central concept of adapting the classic tale of The Wizard of Oz for performance by a black cast was timely and hip. But what had been a brisk stage production was turned into a lumbering film, and the soundtrack album is better only in that you don’t have to watch the movie. The gifted Quincy Jones adapted and supervised the music, and he engaged A-list musicians: Toots Thielemans, Grady Tate, and Patti Austin, among others. But almost everything is overblown here, lacking the drive and imagination that mark Jones’s other work. Some negligible new musical material was contributed by Jones, Luther Vandross, and Ashford and Simpson. Diana Ross was too old for the role of Dorothy, and although she sings well enough here, she begins every song as if she’s just been on a week-long crying jag. (Cut from the movie but present on the soundtrack recording is a new ballad for Ross, “Is This What Feeling Gets?”) A young Michael Jackson is irresistible as the Scarecrow, and Nipsey Russell has an affable vaudevillian flair as the Tin Man. Ted Ross repeats his Broadway role as the Lion, but his big moments are diminished here. On the other hand, Mabel King reprises her show-stopping stage turn as Evillene to even more hilarious effect; and the glamorous Lena Horne, in the role of Glinda, gives her all to “If You Believe.” Richard Pryor plays the title role, and since he’s not a singer, the propulsive “So You Wanted to Meet the Wizard” is reduced to bits of woeful dialogue. — R.S.

Television Cast, 2014 (Masterworks Broadway) (3 / 5) This cast album is far more enjoyable on its own terms than the live television production it represents, for several reasons. The book of The Wiz has never been considered a masterpiece to begin with, but Harvey Fierstein’s heavy-handed rewrites for the TV presentation were almost all for the worse, so it’s nice to be able to enjoy this fine performance of the score without having to experience all of that — not to mention the flat direction of Kenny Leon, or the production and costume designs, which might be described as garish rather than fun and fanciful. But the most obvious way in which the audio-only experience of this Wiz satisfies far more than watching the video is that Shanice Williams’ vocal performance as Dorothy comes across so much better when not hampered by her limitations as an actress on screen, specifically her limited range of facial expressions. Only 19 years of age when The Wiz was telecast, Williams has an exceptionally beautiful and supple voice that’s lovely to hear in the sweeter moments of Dorothy’s music, and when she’s required to riff or to belt at the top of her range, it all sounds organic rather than like someone just showing off.  Her rendition of “Home” is spectacular, as great a success on its own terms as that of Stephanie Mills, who happily turns up here as Aunt Em. Most everyone else in the cast does a fine job with the vocal showcases for their characters, including Elijah Kelly as the Scarecrow, Ne-Yo as the Tin-Man, David Alan Grier as the Cowardly Lion, Amber Riley as Addapearle, and Uzo Aduba as Glinda. The only exception is Queen Latifah as The Wiz, wasted in a role that makes no sense when played by a woman. And it is a disappointment that Kelly doesn’t get to sing the wonderful song originally written for the Scarecrow, “I Was Born on the Day Before Yesterday,” but instead was handed “You Can’t Win,” the far inferior number that Michael Jackson performed in the movie.  It would be nice eventually to have a fully satisfying film or TV adaptation of The Wiz, but in the meantime, this cast album is an overall worthy addition to the catalog.– Michael Portantiere

Original Broadway Cast, 1952 (RCA) (3 / 5) Eddie Fisher’s mega-hit recording of the title tune helped turn this Catskills summer romance, based on Arthur Kober’s play Having Wonderful Time, from an almost certain flop into the biggest success of a slow season. But there’s much more to Harold Rome’s score for his first book show to reach Broadway than that repetitive rumba. The other ballads are uncommonly fine, from the intense “They Won’t Know Me” to the elegant melodic line of “Where Did the Night Go?” All of the above are lucky to be sung by Jack Cassidy; with his thrilling tenor and ardent delivery, he’s the best thing on the album. His leading lady, Patricia Marand, is technically proficient but a little stolid, and soubrette Sheila Bond hits some harsh, nasal notes, but Paul Valentine sings “Summer Afternoon” attractively. As befits a snappy musical of its period, Wish You Were Here has a steady stream of tangy comedy songs and a brassy set of Don Walker orchestrations, nicely matched by some excellent, uncredited vocal arrangements. Larry Blyden, Phyllis Newman, Florence Henderson, and Reid Shelton are in the chorus, though you probably won’t be able to pick out their voices. — Marc Miller

Original London Cast, 1953 (Philips/Sepia) (4 / 5) London cast recordings of Broadway hits are often inferior to the originals, but this one bests its American cousin on several counts. The technical quality is superb, once you get past an echo-y overture that seems like it was lifted directly from the Broadway album. Cyril Ornadel’s musical direction is livelier than Jay Blackton’s. The musical program is almost the same, although “Goodbye, Love” is replaced by “Nothing Nicer Than People” to make the heroine more sympathetic. It’s fun to note the slight lyrical revisions that were made to suit West End audiences, such as changing “the BMT” to “the workmen’s train.” All of the Brit principals affect New York accents quite nicely, with Christopher Hewett outstanding as the unlikeliest wolf in the history of the Catskills. The rest of the London cast is inversely talented as compared to the New York company: Where Jack Cassidy was the vocal muscle of the original, his London counterpart, Bruce Trent, is uninteresting (and requires a downward modulation in “They Won’t Know Me”); but Shani Wallis is pert and more vocally secure than Sheila Bond as Fay, and Elizabeth Larner’s Teddy has the edge on Patricia Marand’s. They all sound like they’re having a whale of a summer. — M.M.

Original Cast Members, 1995 (RCA) (3 / 5) Composer Jeffrey Lunden and lyricist-librettist Arthur Perlman deserve credit for tackling such difficult source material: Arthur Kopit’s acclaimed play Wings, about a former aviatrix and stunt pilot who’s recovering from a stroke. Their score for the musical is complex and multi-layered; if it doesn’t quite reach the skies, it doesn’t crash, either. Much of the music is exquisite, but the style of the score is more like a chamber opera. There’s very little in the way of “numbers,” some of the vocal lines are curious, and the lyrics often eschew rhyme. However, there is one song that’s likely to please those looking for an old-fashioned melody: “A Recipe for Cheesecake,” here sung by Russ Thacker, the only performer on the album who wasn’t in the stage production. It’s as close to a “show tune” as Wings gets. The strange noises you’ll hear at several points during the recording are part of a complex melding of sound design (Richard Woodbury) and orchestration (Lunden), designed to simulate the scary world inside the head of the central character, played by Linda Stephens. Recorded several years after Wings premiered at Chicago’s Goodman Theatre and then moved to New York’s Public Theater, this one-disc album contains nearly the entire show, dialogue and all. It was superbly produced by Thomas Z. Shepard; listen through headphones for the full effect. — Seth Christenfeld

Original London Cast, 1982 (EMI/Ange1) (3 / 5) Much of Tony Macaulay’s music is too pop-rocky for an adaptation of the classic 1920s Ben Hecht-Charles MacArthur comedy The Front Page, but Macaulay and the gifted lyricist Dick Vosburgh created many songs for Windy City that are terrific in their own right, so the show scores on this recording in a way that it never did onstage. The story of ace newspaper reporter Hildy Johnson (played by Dennis Waterman) wanting to abandon his boss Walter Burns (played by Anton Rodgers) for marriage and a different career is outfitted by Macaulay and Vosburgh with several intoxicating numbers (“Hey, Hallelujah,” “I Can Just Imagine It,” and the title song), some lovely ballads (“Wait Till I Get You on Your Own,” “Long Night Again Tonight”), and only a couple of clunkers (“Waltz for Mollie,” “Bensinger’s Poem”). When the chorines sing “Saturday,” which does sound like a 1920s tune, it reminds us how out-of-period the other songs are. Still, “Water Under the Bridge” is a terrific 11-o’clock number and would be a great audition song for strong leading men. — Peter Filichia

Original Broadway Cast, 1991 (Sony) (3 / 5) Chameleonic composer Cy Coleman and stalwart Broadway lyricists Betty Comden and Adolph Green wrote the songs for The Will Rogers Follies, a fanciful musical biography of the populist humorist as might have been concocted by Florenz Ziegfeld, in whose revues Rogers made numerous appearances. Coleman combines country twang and Broadway know-how in his music (evocatively orchestrated by Bill Byers), and the Camden-Green lyrics are bright and clever. If the score isn’t of first-tier quality, it’s better than just utilitarian; but it’s hard to tell that from the cast recording, a rather lackluster audio presentation of a show that burst with life under Tommy Tune’s direction. The cast certainly isn’t to blame: Keith Carradine is ingratiating as Rogers, Dee Hoty’s velvet voice brings Will’s wife Berry to warm-hearted life, and future Tony Awards winners Dick Latessa and Cady Huffman find great charm and humor in their supporting roles. But the score, separated from the energy of Tune’s direction/choreography and Peter Stone’s book, is less than wholly effective on its own. The dynamic production numbers “Will-a-Mania” and “Our Favorite Son” suffer the most, but even the major solo turns — Carradine’s “I Never Met a Man I Didn’t Like” and Hoty’s show-stopping “No Man Left for Me” — are somewhat disappointing here. Still, the music’s attractiveness and the performers’ abundant talents save the day, making a weak representation of the show still well worth a listen or three. — Matthew Murray

Original Off-Broadway Cast, 2000 (RCA) (4 / 5) This was the first of the entries in the 2000 competition between two stage musical adaptations of Joseph Moncure March’s epic poem. Although Andrew Lippa is a talented musical dramatist, his lyrics aren’t always perfect here (he employs a lot of metaphors that don’t make any sense), and the pop-rock influence in his music is rarely accurate to the period. Still, the overall effect of the Manhattan Theatre Club production was dazzling. Unfortunately, the cast album doesn’t fully indicate how brilliant the piece was onstage. For one thing, the nearly through-sung score was chopped down to 73 minutes of “highlights,” leaving out a great deal of interesting material. Also, the album was made shortly after the show closed, when its astounding leading lady, the previously unknown Julia Murney, wasn’t in her best voice. Murney still belts the score to high heaven, but not quite as high as she did in the theater. The other excellent leads are Brian d’Arcy James, Idina Menzel, and Taye Diggs, and there are terrific supporting performances by Alix Korey (who delivers the hilarious “Old-Fashioned Love Story”), Raymond Jaramillo McLeod, and Jennifer Cody. Even with the above caveats, this recording is still a fantastic listen; among the highlights are “Raise the Roof,” “A Wild, Wild Party,” “Queenie Was a Blonde,” “Poor Child,” and “Make Me Happy.” — Seth Christenfeld

Original Broadway Cast, 2000 (Decca) (5 / 5) Composer-lyricist Michael John LaChiusa was not unknown when The Wild Party, his adaptation of Joseph Moncure March’s 1928 poem of the same title, hit Broadway in 2000; but he truly laid his claim as a major force in the musical theater with this work, among the most dazzling of the “postmodern” school.  The cast album is dynamic, a thrilling document of one of the most stirring theater scores of the late 20th century. LaChiusa’s songs are heavily steeped in period jazz and vaudeville styles (aided by Todd Ellison’s flawless musical direction and Bruce Coughlin’s searing orchestrations) while still sounding thoroughly modern and fresh. Beginning with a startlingly dissonant horn blast, the delights of the recording don’t stop. Consider the raunchy “Queenie Was a Blonde,” the rip-roaring “Uptown Downtown,” the torchy “Lowdown-Down,” the bathtub-gin-infused “Wild,” the bluesy “Black Is a Moocher,” the lost-in-life lovers’ duet “People Like Us,” and the 11-o’clock showstopper “When It Ends.” That last number is delivered titanically by the legendary Eartha Kitt, but the whole cast is excellent. Leading the way are Toni Collette, sounding like a veteran in her Broadway debut as the bleached-blonde chorine Queenie, and Mandy Patinkin as her manic and violent lover, Burrs. They receive top-notch support from Marc Kudisch, Tonya Pinkins, Norm Lewis, Brooke Sunny Moriber, Yancey Arias, and other distinctive performers. Although this is not a complete document of the score, there’s a lot packed into the recording’s 78 minutes. — Matthew Murray

Original Broadway Cast, 1961 (RCA) (2 / 5) Why did the star of Wildcat choose to make her Broadway debut in a show with requirements so far afield from her abilities? Lucille Ball had looks and charisma and great comic timing, but this was a musical, and its leading lady couldn’t sing; all those I Love Lucy jokes about her tin-eared vocalizing were not exaggerations. The show itself is all right, sort of a female Music Man of the oil fields with a synthetic book by N. Richard Nash and a bouncy score by composer Cy Coleman and lyricist Carolyn Leigh. “Hey, Look Me Over” was the hit of the score, but “What Takes My Fancy” and some of the other tunes are also nice. The whole company sounds energetic on the disc, and the male lead, Keith Andes, handles his music very well. Although the recording can’t convey the inventiveness of Michael Kidd’s choreography, it does hint at the gusto with which Ball threw herself into her song-and-dance numbers. Wildcat would have run longer on Ball’s name alone had she not become exhausted with the grind of eight performances a week, but the show is not compelling enough to have ever entered the arena of perennial showcase musicals. — Richard Barrios