Original Motion Picture Soundtrack, 1992 (Walt Disney) 
(2 / 5) Listening to the soundtrack recording of this 1992 movie that starred a young Christian Bale (well before his days headlining much darker films) and Ann-Margret (an ever-alluring presence on screen and disc), you’d be hard-pressed to understand how it might ever be transformed into a Tony-nominated stage musical. Yes, there are small glimmers of terrific music by Alan Menken and clever lyrics by Jack Feldman, notably in such songs as “Santa Fe” and “The World Will Know.” For the most part, however, everything here feels and sounds overblown and forced, from the performers’ exaggerated “Noo Yawk” accents to the often thundering orchestrations provided by Thomas Pasatieri and Danny Troob, the latter of whom would go on to do some marvelous work for the Broadway incarnation of the tuner. Newsies was actually a flop when originally released to theaters, and only later gained great popularity through home video. For completists (and Ann-Margret fans), there are a couple of numbers, “My Lovey-Dovey Baby” and “High Times, Hard Times,” which didn’t make it to Broadway. And for the generation that fell in love with musicals because of this movie, the soundtrack recording remains something to be cherished. For everyone else, though, it’s best to stick with the Broadway cast album. — Andy Propst
Original Broadway Cast, 2012 (Ghostlight) 
(4 / 5) Alan Menken employs a semi-period, semi-contemporary musical vocabulary for this stage version of the 1992 Disney film of the same title, to terrific effect, and Jack Feldman’s lyrics have a verve and wit that match the melodies beautifully. For those who grew up on the film about a newsboys’ strike against newspaper owner Joseph Pulitzer, the Broadway cast recording has most of the songs that they loved from the movie score, including the soaring “Santa Fe” and the rousing anthem “Seize the Day,” plus a large handful of new ones written specifically for the stage show. Something else this album has that the film soundtrack doesn’t is the enormously appealing presence of Jeremy Jordan, who, beyond sounding terrific from a musical/vocal standpoint, brings a great balance of streetwise toughness and vulnerability to his portrayal of the strikers’ leader, Jack Kelly. Other fine work includes Kara Lindsay’s smartly pert performance as a girl reporter who becomes Jack’s love interest, and Capathia Jenkins’ saucy turn as a music hall performer. The odd thing about the recording is that the show’s big dance numbers appear twice — once each in truncated form, then again as bonus tracks in full versions with dance breaks that feature Mark Himmel’s arrangements, excitingly orchestrated by Danny Troob. Having the complete tracks at the end of the album means that listeners who want to get a full sense of the show, or to re-experience what they saw in the theater, have to set up a special playlist with the proper run order. It’s cumbersome, and it ultimately detracts from the recording’s ability to genuinely communicate the thrill that live audiences got from this sleeper hit. — A.P.
(3 / 5) Jersey Boys tells the true story of the rise of the phenomenally successful 1960s pop singing group The Four Seasons — or, at least, true to whoever is in charge of the story at whatever point in the show. Rather than presenting a straightforward narrative, book writers Rick Elice and Marshall Brickman have each member of the group — here played by John Lloyd Young (Frankie Valli), Christian Hoff (Tommy DeVito), Daniel Reichard (Bob Gaudio), and J. Robert Spencer (Nick Massi) — take turns in telling the audience their version of the group’s rise and fall. The idea works because all four men make insightful, humorous, and (due to frequent contradictions with each other) unreliable narrators, giving the show an extra edge. This recording includes much of that well-crafted narration without interrupting the musical flow of the album. All four leading men have an easy charm and a singing style that lends the recording a sense of authenticity — as does the fact that it was produced by the real-life Bob Gaudio. In particular, Young does an excellent job of adapting his voice to resemble Frankie Valli and his famous falsetto without sounding like an imitation. Ron Melrose’s vocal arrangements and Steve Orich’s orchestrations are essentially period-appropriate. Unlike other jukebox musicals, Jersey Boys doesn’t aim to do anything new with the preexisting songs but, instead, offers a fun, fresh representation with smart, dramatically compelling commentary. — Matt Koplik
(1 / 5) Howard Ashman sadly died at the height of his career, and he never saw any of his work with Alan Menken make it to Broadway. The legacy he left behind may be relatively small, but it is substantial in quality and much beloved. When Disney brought Beauty and the Beast to the stage with financially successful results, it was only a matter of time before The Little Mermaid, the movie that started it all, would make the transition as well. Unfortunately, in this case, Disney should have left well enough alone. With Ashman gone, Glenn Slater was brought in to contribute lyrics for new songs to expand the score for a full-length stage musical, and while he managed to come up with a few good fish puns, none of his work here matches the heart and inventiveness of Ashman’s work. Menken wrote some lovely melodies for the additional songs, though some of them are recycled from incidental music heard in the movie. The cast — Sierra Boggess, Sean Palmer, Sherie Rene Scott, Tituss Burgess, Norm Lewis, et al. — is talented and, in a few cases, vocally superior to their film counterparts, but most tend to go for vocal tricks, making the majority of the score sound over-sung. While Danny Troob’s orchestrations add the necessary flashes of Broadway brass to the Menken-Ashman material without going overboard, they don’t bring as much flair to the Broadway additions. Even though this recording has more songs and offers vocal flair from some Broadway favorites, you’re better off sticking to the movie soundtrack. — M.K.
(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
(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 Jack Wolfe as Gabe. Cox 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
