Original Broadway Cast, 2009 (Sh-K-Boom) 
(5 / 5) If Spring Awakening marked the successful comeback of the original pop/rock musical theater score, then Next to Normal helped insure its future. Part of the reason for the show’s success is that, despite its vibrant energy, it’s a very intimate piece that wears its large heart earnestly on its sleeve. The musical tells of the inner turmoil of a suburban family due to the mental instability of the mother, Diana, who has struggled with bipolar disorder ever since a traumatizing event years earlier: Her son, Gabe, whom she still imagines to be present, died when he was a baby. Although the plot at times borders on being that of a Lifetime Movie, the smart, pulsating score, given a crisp representation on this recording, keeps Next to Normal fresh and inventive. Brian Yorkey’s lyrics are strong and well defined, often bringing a touch of humor to cut the tension in the plot (for example, “My Psychopharmacologist and I”). Tom Kitt composed a score with both fire (“You Don’t Know,” “Didn’t I See This Movie”) and sweet sadness (“I Miss the Mountains”) that he orchestrated excellently with Michael Starobin, making the work electric yet still inherently theatrical. The cast, on the whole, is excellent. Alice Ripley tears into the role of Diana with an abandon that’s fearless, thrilling and at times unnerving. Occasionally, the performer seems so at one with the part that you might fear she won’t even make it to the end of the number — but she always does. J. Robert Spencer is very moving as the silently suffering husband, Dan, and so is Jennifer Damiano as daughter Natalie. Because of the surprises in the plot, listeners who haven’t seen the show will find it especially important to read the synopsis included in the CD booklet in order to make full sense of the story and songs such as “I’m Alive” and “There’s a World,” both sung by Gabe (Aaron Tveit). But they’ll have no problem understanding the emotional potency of each song. — Matt Koplik
London Cast, 2025 (Ghostlight Records) 
(4.5 / 5) Almost 15 years after its Broadway bow, Next to Normal finally came to the West End, in a new production directed with searing intensity by Michael Longhurst. It first played at the Donmar Warehouse, transferred to Wyndham’s Theatre, then received a pro-shot video that aired a year later on PBS. Fans will quickly notice that this “cast recording” is simply the lifted audio of that video, with the audience response muted and, thankfully, Yorkey’s uncensored lyrics retained. As such, the balance of the music and vocals heard here is not as polished as one has come to expect from modern cast recordings, and since we have a primarily British cast, there are one or two faux-American accents that can be jarring. But even with those caveats, this is a thrilling recording. Thanks to singing actors who are vocally exceptional as well as emotionally raw, this Next to Normal pulsates with energy and feeling that practically seeps into your bloodstream. Leading the way is Caissie Levy as Diana. Levy starts out at a more subdued emotional and vocal level than Alice Ripley on the OBC recording, but she quickly builds herself into a manic frenzy, crashing into devastating brokenness, all while maintaining a soaring belt that gives the score a fresh exuberance. She’s equally matched by Jamie Parker’s gregarious Dan (though his American affect is perhaps the most egregious), as evidenced by their explosively combative rendition of “You Don’t Know/I Am the One.” Jack Ofrecio is sweet as the supportive Henry, and Trevor Dion Nicholas brings gravitas to the dual doctor roles. But the ultimate standouts of this recording are Eleanor Worthington Cox as Natalie and Jackie Wolfe as Gabe. Cox constantly feels like a weeping, open wound with a pristine singing voice, while Wolfe is more menacing as Gabe than Tveit had been in the original production, and he flies through his songs with a light pop sound that never feels mannered or put on. More balanced audio and some slight accent tweaking would have made this a perfect recording. But, in a way, being “almost perfect” makes Next to Normal even more stirring. — Matt Koplik
(3 / 5) This might be the first Broadway musical with commentary written into the script. Alone in his apartment, a musical theater devotee anonymously named Man in Chair plays the recording of one of his favorites, the (fictional) 1920s romp The Drowsy Chaperone. He then proceeds to provide footnotes on the stars and writers as we watch the show come to life in his apartment. On stage, it all worked beautifully and hilariously. With its dynamic original cast and inventive staging, The Drowsy Chaperone was unique in that it allowed those of us who adore musicals to see ourselves depicted on stage, while also giving us the benefit of watching a delightfully silly musical. But when taken out of the frame of the production, the score, by Lisa Lambert and Greg Morrison, proves to be merely decent. Though the songs are cute in their reminiscences of the jazzy musicals of the ’20s, they don’t move beyond hommage. The lyrics can be daffy and quirky (“Show Off”), but they never really channel the wit and sophistication of Lorenz Hart or Ira Gershwin. The music is light but fun, much helped by Larry Blank’s peppy, period appropriate orchestrations. The ensemble, clearly having a blast, revels in old school camp and bravado, and elevates the lyrics so that they seem more humorous than they are. Danny Burstein tastefully hams it up in “I Am Aldolpho,” Beth Leavel gleefully warbles Garland-style in “As We Stumble Along,” and Sutton Foster uses her star power to great effect in “Bride’s Lament.” But it’s co-librettist Bob Martin as the Man in Chair who shines brightest here. Though he has no song of his own, Martin offers anecdotes and opinions on the show within the show and its performers throughout the album. His commentary is hilarious and inventive, delivered with just the right touch of knowledge and enthusiasm. Overall, The Drowsy Chaperone is a highly enjoyable show and a fun album, but to quote the Man in Chair, “just ignore the lyrics.” — Matt Koplik
(4 / 5) Some musical theater writers have had great difficulty adapting epic, classic novels for the stage: Doctor Zhivago, Jane Eyre, East of Eden, etc. The trouble is, how do you sing a thousand pages or so in two and half hours (or even three hours) without rushing through the story and shortchanging the emotional gravity of the characters? In adapting Tolstoy’s War and Peace as a musical, writer/performer Dave Malloy chose to solve this problem by focusing on a single chapter of the huge novel and expanding it, rather than attempting to condense the entire work. The result is Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812, one of the most fascinating and fulfilling scores in recent years. Malloy’s music weaves an elaborate tapestry of wildly varied colors and styles, with influences ranging from Rachmaninoff to ’80s club beats and including everything in between. Songs like the beautiful “No One Else,” the pulsating “Balaga,” or the intense “In My House” couldn’t be more different from each other in many ways — and yet, thanks to Malloy’s smart storytelling and endlessly inventive orchestrations, they all seem part of one score and one vision. As a lyricist, Malloy is quite good, if not as audaciously adventurous as he is musically. His lyrics flexibly move from recitative to poetically mystical musings to characters singing their own stage directions (examples: “Anatole followed in his usual jaunty step,” “I blush happily”). Malloy is also smart enough to know when to directly quote Tolstoy’s vivid prose, and indeed, that’s when the lyrics are at their best. The cast, headed by a pre-Hamilton Phillipa Soo as Natasha and Malloy as Pierre, is fantastic. They craftily embody Tolstoy’s characters with the contemporary spin Malloy has written for them. Soo, in particular, leads the way with a performance that’s stunning in its vocal beauty and non-cloying innocence. Natasha, Pierre enjoyed a successful run Off-Broadway (the basis of this recording) and, after a few false starts, finally came Broadway in the fall of 2016. The Great White Way is more exciting for it. (See review below.) — Matt Koplik
(2 / 5) A lightweight jukebox musical showcasing 25 songs made famous by Elvis Presley, All Shook Up concerns a motorcycle-riding roustabout who brings romance and rock ‘n’ roll to a dreary Midwestern town in 1955. Flimsily scaffolded by Joe DiPietro’s contrived book, the show contains no original music, thus the value of its cast album lies solely in the degree to which the familiar songs are rendered in new or especially pleasing fashions. Only about a third of the tracks succeed in that respect. The up-tempos fare better than the ballads, most of which are too fast, encumbered by multi-part choral embellishments, and/or robbed of their emotional warmth by strident wailing. The performers don’t try to imitate Elvis, but one almost wishes they could, as it was the velvety beauty of his voice that made Elvis’s renditions of songs like “Love Me Tender” and “Can’t Help Falling in Love” such memorable hits. While none of the cast has a gorgeous enough voice to make those simple melodies as riveting as The King did, Jenn Gambatese (as the roustabout’s love interest, temporarily cross-dressed as a man) gives an impressive interpretation of “A Little Less Conversation,” her bright belt nipping crisply at the rapid-fire lyrics. With arrangements and musical supervision by Stephen Oremus, the album garnishes solo vocals with harmonizing back-up singers and propulsive instrumental breaks, most satisfyingly in “C’mon Everybody,” a “Teddy Bear/Hound Dog” medley, the country-styled “That’s All Right,” and a Motown-flavored “Let Yourself Go.” But the recording’s only true standout numbers are “Jailhouse Rock” and “Burning Love,” classics so intrinsically exciting that they never fail to electrify. — Lisa Jo Sagolla
