Original Broadway Cast, 1962 (Columbia/DRG) (3 / 5) This is a swell listen with a game cast, a lively Ronny Graham-Milton Schafer score, and the sort of floppola production numbers that are more fun than higher-reaching material in worthier musicals. A contrived tale of dueling restaurateurs in Rome, Bravo Giovanni also takes in a May-September romance (September didn’t look too bad in the person of Metropolitan Opera basso Cesare Siepi), a young Michele Lee belting “Steady, Steady” and other power ballads with intensity, and a manic Maria Karnilova flogging something called “The Kangaroo.” Siepi is strong and authoritative, especially in the winning “If I Were the Man,” and such sundry talents as George S. Irving and David Opatoshu work hard selling their substandard songs. There’s even a hit faux-Italiano ballad, “Ah! Camminare,” delivered by the reliable Broadway tenor Gene Varrone. The CD reissue has a bonus-track enticement: Lee in a rock-beat version of “Steady, Steady,” Like the show itself, it’s cheesy fun. — Marc Miller

Studio Cast, 1953 (Columbia/Sony) (3 / 5) Rodgers and Hart’s 1938 adaptation of The Comedy of Errors is one of their most sublime achievements. The score, melodically and harmonically unsurpassed and lyrically ingenious, has ensured frequent revivals of the show, so it’s no surprise that there are several recordings. The first, an early entry in Lehman Engel’s series of then-unrecorded musicals, is well cast and gratifyingly near complete; it even includes the entire Act II ballet. Casting Jack Cassidy as both Antipholuses (Antipholi?) is a little less fun than hiring two actors, but he’s at his vocal peak and is a persuasively sensuous balladeer; when Cassidy sings “You Have Cast Your Shadow on the Sea,” you know he’s not talking about refracted light. Portia Nelson delivers the goods in”Falling in Love With Love,” Bibi Osterwald as Luce lands all of her comic songs, and Engel conducts at a good clip. The orchestrations aren’t quite the Hans Spialek originals, but are modeled upon them. (The one exception is a bizarre, jazz-combo-backed version of “This Can’t Be Love” that Rodgers himself went on record as loathing.) Some of Columbia’s subsequent studio cast albums were mired in star casting and ’50s orchestral bloat; this one is closer to the real thing, with the correct spirit of silliness and a knockout of an overture. — Marc Miller

Off-Broadway Cast, 1963 (Capitol/Angel) (4 / 5) The orchestrations here are scaled-down approximations of the original Spialek charts; by Off-Broadway standards, the orchestra is quite large. The cover art features that great Al Hirschfeld drawing of Jimmy Savo and Teddy Hart in the 1938 original, and what’s on the recording is pretty delectable, too. Karen Morrow’s brazen voice richly mines the comedy songs, Clifford David and Stuart Damon split the ballads ably, and Ellen Hanley breaks your heart with “Falling in Love With Love.” Also on hand are Danny Carroll, Julienne Marie, and Cathryn Damon. The Encores! album (reviewed below) may be the gold-standard recording of this score, but this one is more persuasively about hot-blooded young folks jumping into the wrong beds. — M.M.

Original London Cast, 1963 (Decca) (3 / 5) Apparently, when The Boys From Syracuse made its belated London debut, the elements didn’t quite jell; a three-month run was all that the show could muster in the West End. But the album has good ensemble work from a big-name British cast headed by Bob Monkhouse, Denis Quilley, and Maggie Fitzgibbon. The production is a bit boisterous; all that hearty chorus laughter at Hart’s jokes tells us that the director (Christopher Hewett) didn’t trust the audience to identify the funny bits. Still, this is an above-average recording of a fabulous score. The CD reissue booklet boasts an excellent essay on the show, including a scholarly mini-course in Rodgers and Hart appreciation by John Hollander. Six vintage tracks by Frances Langford and Rudy Vallee are included on the disc as bonuses, but they’re soporific. — M.M.

Encores! Cast, 1997 (DRG) (5 / 5) A treat under any circumstances, the score of The Boys From Syracuse never sounded better than in this recording of the City Center Encores! production. First and foremost, it restores Hans Spialek’s original orchestrations, and that alone is like scraping several coats of paint off an antique that never should have been tampered with. Exquisite details emerge, like the orchestra tacet in “This Can’t Be Love” when Sarah Uriarte Berry sings that her heart “skipped a beat.” Also, this is the most complete rendition of the score on record, featuring the seldom-heard “Big Brother” and the premiere recording of “Let Antipholus In!” The casting, while not uniformly inspired, is perfectly sensible. If Debbie Gravitte as Luce never produces an unexpected inflection, she does the job, and she’s well partnered by Michael McGrath as Dromio of Ephesus; their mutual disgust in “What Can You Do With a Man?” is palpable. The strong Antipholuses are Davis Gaines and Malcom Gets. Rebecca Luker as Adriana is all that you want her to be, and Patrick Quinn injects mock-Romberg testosterone into “Come With Me.” But it’s McGrath who taps directly into the show’s spirit, as when he delivers one of my favorite Hart couplets: “Come on, crystal, act like ya know me / Come on, crystal, show me Dromie!” — M.M.

Original Off-Broadway Cast, 1974 (Records & Publishing/AEI) (2 / 5) This show dates from the mid ’70s, but its heart lies more with The Boy Friend than with The Boys in the Band. The creators took one of those cheerfully asinine 1930s musical comedy plots (globe-trotting reporter meets incognito aristocrat) and gave it a gay spin. There’s no post-Stonewall anger here, no Suddenly, Last Summer angst and self-loathing; this show is a fizzy, good-hearted romp. The missing ingredient is a true sense of style. Composer-lyricist Bill Solly came up with some competent wordplay and nice melodies, but the score is more ’70s-generic than ’30s satiny chic. That problem is exacerbated on this recording by the tinny noises of synthesized accompaniment. Still, the small cast performs enthusiastically, and if the result is not a masterful confection, it is a tasty cupcake at the very least. From today’s perspective, Boy Meets Boy seems a period piece twice over, a giddy bauble that appeared just before a very dark time in gay history began. Even nostalgia can wield a double-edged sword. — Richard Barrios

Original Minneapolis Cast, 1979 (Private Editions/no CD) (3 / 5) Boy Meets Boy was sufficiently successful in its initial New York and Los Angeles runs to become a hot item on the burgeoning gay-regional-theater circuit of the late 1970s. (Some playgoers will recall those halcyon days of generous grants from the National Endowment for the Arts.) One company in particular, the Out & About Theatre of Minneapolis, gave Bill Solly’s show a comparatively lavish production. A special boon for the home listener is that the cast album boasts a small but bona-fide orchestra to supplant the nattering synthesizer heard on the original recording; the intrepid orchestrator Brad Callahan worked with Solly to expand the score somewhat, and the added resources give the show more of a faux-Deco sheen. A new overture, extended dance music, and an ingratiating group of performers add to the fun. Calling something “the Original Minneapolis Cast Recording” may sound as camp as anything in the show itself, but this album demonstrates how a good budget and a thoughtful presentation can benefit a little musical.  —R.B.

Original London Cast, 1954 (HMV/Sepia) (3 / 5) A pastiche of 1920s tuners with an absurd but dear book and a Sandy Wilson score packed with wonderful tunes, The Boy Friend is presented here in a cast album of the show’s first full production. As such, this is the most “authentic” of the musical’s various recordings, but others are more complete, more fully orchestrated, and boast better singers. Many of the songs were edited down for this recording, and “Safety in Numbers” and “The ‘You-Don’t-Want-to-Play-With-Me’ Blues” are missing entirely. The performers set the tone for those who followed. Anne Rogers is Polly, the finishing-school student who falls in love with a messenger who turns out to be the son of a lord; Denise Hurst is Maisie, in love with wealthy Bobby Van Dusen; and Maria Charles is Dulcie, who has a flirtation with Lord Brockhurst. The plot comes to what is described as an ending “in which everybody is successfully paired off in a matter of minutes.”  — David Wolf

Original Broadway Cast, 1954 (RCA) (4 / 5) When top-flight Broadway producers Cy Feuer and Ernest Martin got the American rights to The Boy Friend, they agreed to bring author Sandy Wilson and director Vida Hope to New York to ensure that the U.S. edition would be faithful to the London original. But the plan soon soured. According to Feuer’s autobiography, Wilson and Hope insisted on adding a new scene and song, which the producers vetoed. Wilson’s version of the story is that Feuer and Martin cut a song, switched actors from one role to another, and fired others. He claims they even tried to get rid of star Julie Andrews, whereas Feuer writes that he knew she was a genius all along. From all reports, the New York production was faster, louder, and broader than the original. In the only change that Wilson approved, the music was re-orchestrated (by Ted Royal and Charles L. Cooke), and more musicians were added. The Broadway cast performs with punch and precision, and the score sounds great on this recording — especially the snazzy new overture, which rides to a dazzling conclusion. — D.W.

Broadway Revival Cast, 1970 (Decca) (4 / 5) The original Broadway production of The Boy Friend ran 485 performances, beginning in 1954. Three years later, the show was revived Off-Broadway and ran nearly twice as long. In 1970, it was revived again, this time on Broadway, and  although the run was short, that production yielded a cast album that includes the Act II finale and other previously unrecorded numbers. Judy Carne, then a star of TV’s Laugh-In, got above-the-title solo billing but proved uninteresting onstage; while she sings well enough as Polly, she can’t compare with Julie Andrews or Anne Rogers. People who remember this production always refer to it as “the Sandy Duncan Boy Friend.” Indeed, Duncan was adorable in the secondary role of Maisie and got all the reviews (with her charming partner, Harvey Evans), but on the recording, she has some trouble with “Safety in Numbers.” Leon Shaw as Percy Browne sings his part of “Fancy Forgetting” poorly; Barbara Andres as Hortense speaks “It’s Nicer in Nice” rather than sings it; and the orchestra performs without the glorious abandon of the players on the first Broadway album. — D.W.

Film Soundtrack, 1971 (MGM/no CD)  (1 / 5) MGM had long owned the film rights to The Boy Friend but did nothing with them until the studio took the lunatic step of handing the property to director Ken Russell. His screenplay has a repertory troupe visited by a Hollywood director who turns the troupes show The Boy Friend into a lavish movie musical. The film is filled with striking images, yet it’s campy and witless. We’re left with the charming performances of Twiggy and a young Tommy Tune. The score, here marred by too-cute orchestrations by Peter Maxwell Davies, has little feel of the ’20s. Two songs, “The ‘You-Don’t-Want-to-Play-With-Me’ Blues” and “It’s Nicer in Nice,” were cut from the film but are on the soundtrack album. Meanwhile, two vintage non-Sandy Wilson numbers, “You Are My Lucky Star” and “All I Do Is Dream of You,” were added; their interpolation can only be described as unnecessary, which is also a good word for this recording.  — D.W.

London Cast, 1987 (First Night) (4 / 5) This live recording of the revue Blues in  the Night is a real gem. Arrangements that split the difference between jazz and theater combine with fetching performances of familiar and less well-known material by a variety of composers and lyricists to tell the story of three women (played by Carol Woods, Maria Friedman, and Debbie Bishop) who are in love with the same rotten guy (Clarke Peters). A rowdy, appreciative audience adds to the atmosphere and fun. Each of these gifted ladies gets a shining personality number: Woods does “Take Me for a Buggy Ride,” Friedman nails “Taking a Chance on Love,” and Bishop describes her “Rough and Ready Man.” Peters is most enjoyable in “Baby Doll.” The women make a sassy trio in “Take It Right Back,” and the ballads are also done full justice: Woods’ well-acted “Lover Man,” Friedman’s thoughtful “Willow Weep for Me,” and the group’s sweet rendition of “It Makes My Love Come Down.” In fact, several of the group numbers are home runs, among them haunting performances of “Blues in the Night” and “Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out.” Within the theatrical sub-genre of 1980s and 1990s revues crafted along similar lines (Sophisticated Ladies, Five Guys Named Moe, Black and Blue) this one is a personal favorite. [Note: A previous version of the show played briefly in New York in 1982 with Jean Du Shon, Debbie Shapiro (Gravitte), Leslie Uggams, and Charles Coleman in the cast, but that production yielded no cast album.]  — Morgan Sills

Original Broadway Cast, 1944 (Decca) (3 / 5) While the show threw off no enduring hit songs, and is seldom revived, the cast album of this Harold Arlen-E.Y. Harburg wartime hit has rarely been out of print. Inspired by the life of feminist/industrialist Dolly Bloomer  — although the bloomer girl of the title is her fictional niece, Evelina — and set during the Civil War, its score has long melodic lines and blues-tinged harmonies, subtle satire, and loads of Harburgian wordplay. As he often did, the master lyricist pokes fun at the battle of the sexes, skewers moral hypocrisy (Evelina lives in a community so staid that “Even the rabbits / Inhibit their habits”), and argues stirringly for the cause of freedom in the stunning song “The Eagle and Me.” (It’s one of the 50 songs that Stephen Sondheim has stated he wishes he’d written, and you’ll understand why.) Bloomer Girl was one of the first of the post-Oklahoma! Americana musicals, and it borrowed that show’s personnel liberally — not just choreographer Agnes De Mille, but also soubrettes Joan McCracken and Celeste Holm, the latter promoted to leading lady. Truth to tell, Holm is vocally underpowered for Evelina, falling back on scoops, head voice, and other tricks to make it through such rangy Arlen melodies as “Right as the Rain.” McCracken is even worse, so overplaying her comedy songs that she nearly spoils such choice couplets as “Utopia, Utopia / Don’t be a dope, ya dope, ya!” The men aren’t vocal godsends, either: David Brooks’ “Evelina” and Dooley Wilson’s “The Eagle and Me” lack flavor. The most powerful singer on the album is probably Arlen himself, making an impressive cameo appearance in “Man for Sale.” As to the album’s various issues and reissues, the Decca CD is the keeper; a simulated stereo LP edition made everyone sound like they were singing at the bottom of a well. This version is sonically improved and has some dandy extras, such as a longer, funnier version of “Sunday in Cicero Falls” and an alternate take of “I Got a Song.” — Marc Miller

Original London Cast, 1983 (Castle) (2 / 5) This is the story of Mrs. Johnstone, a lower-class Liverpudlian whose husband deserts her, even though she’s pregnant and already has seven children. Mrs. J., having determined that she can afford to care and provide for only one more child, is devastated to learn that she’ll be giving birth to twins. In desperation, she agrees to let her rich employer, Mrs. Lyons, take one of the babies to raise as her own. At age seven, the two non-identical twin boys — Mrs. J’s Mickey and Mrs. L’s Eddie — improbably meet and become fast friends, unaware that they are siblings. Years later, this melodramatic situation leads to tragedy, explicated in ominous tones by a Narrator. It’s easy to make fun of Blood Brothers, and indeed, it inspired a hilarious Forbidden Broadway spoof. With book, music, and lyrics by Willy Russell, the show is very earnest, but it leaves much to be desired in terms of professional polish. Some of the lyrics don’t quite fit the music, and there are several imperfect rhymes (“chap/chat”) along with some neat, clever ones (“soldier/told yer”). In the first version of a song titled “Marilyn Monroe,” most of the references to that screen goddess are apt, but they become strained to the point of ridiculousness in subsequent numbers. On the whole, Russell’s music is better than his lyrics; the melodies of “Sunday Afternoon,” “Easy Terms,” and “Tell Me It’s Not True” are haunting, while “Bright New Day” is joyous. Some melodies and themes recur with added impact, as when the tune of “My Child,” sung early on by the two mothers, is later used for “My Friend,” the twins’ declaration of their instinctive bond. Other recurring melodies and/or lyrics are simply annoying, as for example the seemingly endless repetitions of the phrase “You know the devil’s got your number.” The strong cast of the first recording is led by Barbara Dickson as Mrs. Johnstone, George Costigan as Mickey, Andrew C. Wadsworth as Eddie, and Andrew Schofield as the Narrator, but the score’s virtues are undermined by keyboard-and-synthesizer-heavy arrangements. — Michael Portantiere

London Cast, 1988 (RCA) (3 / 5) This recording is superior to its predecessor, offering better arrangements/orchestrations and more music — about 15 minutes’ worth. Oddly, the song originally called “The Devil’s Got Your Number” is now called “Shoes Upon the Table.” Other titles have changed as well. Kiki Dee, best known as a Brit-pop singer and sometime musical partner of Elton John, is very good as Mrs. Johnstone. So is Robert Locke in the role of Eddie. And Con O’Neill is the best Mickey in all the recordings under review, bringing to the character a wonderfully winning innocence in the childhood stage and a moving angst as an adult. Also praiseworthy is Warwick Evans as the Narrator. (Both O’Neill and Evans would go on to play these roles in the 1993 Broadway production of Blood Brothers, which did not yield a cast recording.) — M.P.

The International Recording, 1995 (First Night) (4 / 5) Three starry leads and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra will make this the preferred Blood Brothers recording for many listeners. At over an hour in length, it’s also the most complete of the recordings under review. The singers and the huge orchestra are recorded in a weighty, reverberant acoustic that makes the score seem lush and important or somewhat heavy and pretentious, depending on one’s taste; the overture here is a far cry from the synthesized sound of the one on the first Blood Brothers cast album. As for the famous lead singers, it’s a pleasure to report that all three are excellent. Petula Clark, a major pop star of the 1960s with impressive stage and film credits as well, has a compelling, soulful voice that’s perfect for Mrs. Johnstone. The erstwhile American teen idols David and Sean Cassidy, half-brothers in real life, sing very well as Mickey and Eddie, and their Brit accents are quite convincing. The Narrator here is Willy Russell, who wrote the show’s book, music, and lyrics. — M.P.

London Cast, 1995 (First Night) (3 / 5) This recording is worth tracking down primarily for the superb singing and acting of Stephanie Lawrence, who had previously played Mrs. Johnstone on Broadway in 1993. Here heading a fine cast that also includes Paul Crosby as Mickey and Joanna Monro as Mrs. Lyons, with Warwick Evans back as the Narrator, Lawrence is in a class by herself as Mrs. J. The fact that she died at age 50, about five years after this recording, only increases the value of the album as a memento of her heartbreaking performance, so deeply committed that it even makes the most purple passages of the score seem moving rather than silly. Another big plus is the endearing Eddie of Mark Hutchinson, who had also been a member of the first Broadway cast of the show; his rendition of the sweet pop ballad “I’m Not Saying a Word” is particularly enjoyable. — M.P.

Original Broadway Cast, 1989 (DRG) (4 / 5) The title of this show, taken from a Fats Waller song, pretty much announces what it will be: Another revue-style look at African-American entertainment in the first half of the 20th century, this time emphasizing the music of such great blues women as Bessie Smith and Ma Rainey. Interestingly, the show was created by Argentineans (Claudio Segovia and Hector Orezzoli) living in France, reminding us that some aspects of American culture are more appreciated by so-called outsiders. It’s not easy to feel the shape of the show from this disc, and it’s a pity that the three leads had to share the stage and recording studio with less charismatic performers. Still, most of the songs are delivered by a powerful star trio. In the opening number, Ruth Brown, Linda Hopkins, and Carrie Smith announce, “I’m a Woman.” The Tony Award-winning Brown has the roughest voice and rawest style. Smith lends a smoother tone to such standards as “Am I Blue?” and Hopkins channels her enormous voice compellingly. While there is no clear-cut winner among the three, Brown’s wry double entendres in “If I Can’t Sell It, I’ll Keep Sittin’ on It” rate special mention. As long as this recording focuses on the stars and their first-rate instrumental support, it’s boisterous, funny, and frequently moving. — Richard Barrios

Studio Cast, 1960 (Angel/Sepia) (1 / 5) It seemed a radical idea in 1929: an operetta with believable characters, literate dialogue, first-rate lyrics, and a minimum of the coyness associated with the form. With Noël Coward providing all of the above, plus the music, a classic was born — a sentimental love story with grace, intelligence, wit, and irony. Alas, the recording industry has yet to do the show full justice. Aside from a few tracks featuring the original London cast (including Peggy Wood, whose “Zigeuner” sounds like a madwoman’s hysterics), Bitter Sweet has rated only two studio cast recordings and one stage revival cast album. The first studio effort is this atrocity, issued in over-emphatic early stereo and clocking in at a modest but by no means brisk 40 minutes. Are the singers at fault? Not really. Vanessa Lee’s Sarah has spirit and excellent top notes, while Roberto Cardinali’s sturdy tenor lends romantic presence in the role of Carl. On the other hand, Julie Dawn’s Manon — who sings “If Love Were All” and “Kiss Me” — is a sexy French kitten, not the world-weary chanteuse so superbly embodied by Ivy St. Helier in the original. But don’t blame Dawn or even Michael Collins’ turgid conducting; blame the orchestrations, by Brian Fahey and Ray Terry. Overwhelmed by violins, they spread a thick, maple sugar glaze over Coward’s delicate story. The Sepia CD compilation is far more interesting for its inclusion of the few recordings by the original cast. — Marc Miller

Studio Cast, 1969 (EMI) (2 / 5) If the preceding album represents operetta performance at its most clueless, this entry isn’t far behind. Johnny Douglas’ orchestrations are a step above the primordial soup of the earlier set, but they proceed from the same premise: Disguise an operetta’s age by pretending it’s a 1960s musical, loading it up with too many strings, too many brass flourishes, and even jazz-combo drums (at the end of “Ladies of the Town”). The conducting is glacial, especially in the waltzes: “Kiss Me” is a dirge. But this disc does have a superior set of singers. The great Australian operetta soprano June Bronhill sings quite lusciously, trilling an audacious high C at the end of “What Is Love?” Opposite her, Neville Jason has more personality than most Carls. Julia D’Alba’s Manon is another purring feline, but her throaty alto is pleasant to hear. The meaningless finale, which miraculously brings Carl back from the dead to duet with Sarah on “I’ll See You Again,” is a miscalculation. Nevertheless, some of Coward’s material shines through the mishandling on this well-engineered album, like the sun through a British cloud cover. — M.M.

Sadler’s Wells Cast, 1988 (JAY, 2CDs) (3 / 5) Now, this is more like it. The excellent Sadler’s Wells light opera company aimed for a complete Bitter Sweet, true to the spirit of Coward and definitive in its musical presentation. This is by far the most complete recording of the score: It lacks only an overture, a couple of incidental songs, and some underscoring. Finally, we get to hear all of Coward’s unflinching lyrics to “Green Carnation” and “Alas, the Time Is Past.” There’s also an entrancing, instrumental-only “Bitter Sweet Waltz”; its flatted thirds show Coward to be a more adventurous composer at age 29 than many realized. But Bitter Sweet needs inspired casting to catch fire, and this is merely a pretty good operetta ensemble. Valerie Masterson is a no-nonsense Sarah, vocally secure and suitably warm — yet the character is supposed to metamorphose from a willful romantic to a wise grande dame, and the singer doesn’t differentiate much between the two. As Carl, Martin Smith has scant personality and not enough voice. Rosemary Ashe is a capable Manon, up to the demands of “If Love Were All” and the saucy “Bonne Nuit, Merci,” but she’s not distinctive. The orchestrations aren’t the originals, and there’s a blandness to them, as there is to Michael Reed’s conducting. Transitional dialogue is included in over-perky line readings that never convey how much smarter Bitter Sweet is than the average operetta. The lavish, dual-CD packaging promises something special, but what’s really special about the album is Sir Noël’s material, not this hit-or-miss rendition of it.  — M.M.

Original Off-Broadway Cast, 1987 (JAY) (4 / 5) On hearing this recording, listeners are bound to wonder why the show was not more successful. The score is filled with intricate, catchy melodies by David Evans and intelligent, witty lyrics by Winnie Holtzman. From start to finish, the performers sing and act as if they have discovered a pot of gold. The opening number, “Too Many Nights,” cleverly introduces actors in a community theater awaiting the arrival of someone who’s coming to direct them in a new musical. Two other highlights are Todd Graff’s duet with Crista Moore in the exciting “Coming True,” and Donna Murphy, Mary Beth Peil, and Barbara Walsh joining their powerhouse voices in the title song. When Graff and Peil confront each other in “After Opening Night,” it’s engrossing and moving. Some of the comedic numbers may not work very well outside of the show’s context, but John Cunningham’s “Somebody,” J. K. Simmons’ “She’s Out There,” and Peil’s “You’re Mine” are among the other fine songs in this top-notch score. Also worthy of note is the lovely ballad “Imagining You.” The show was directed by Arthur Laurents, and it seems clear that he encouraged the writers to spread their wings. This album is altogether necessary for discriminating enthusiasts.  — Jeffrey Dunn

Original Off-Broadway Cast, 1970 (Roulette/Original Cast Records) (2 / 5) An interesting autobiography of a fictional black playwright who is frequently angry and sometimes simply yearning, this musical covers his life from conception (in a street rape) through World War II, the civil rights movement, and the death of Martin Luther King (the final song is titled “Burn, Baby, Burn!”). The playwright ponders his role in the struggles of his era, but the ending of the show offers no answers. Of course, it’s impossible to know from the cast album how detailed and skillful William Wellington Mackey’s script is. The songs, by Johnny Brandon, travel confidently through the story’s 30 years, moving easily along with swing, rhythm and blues, early rock, and the sounds of the late 1960s. Although there’s not a lot of dramatic musical writing here, the tunes are mostly vibrant and rhythmic and it’s certainly easy to accept them as the language of these characters. The title role is uncommonly well sung by Donny Burks, and there are fine supporting performances by Alan Weeks, Hattie Winston, and Urylee Leonardos.  — David Wolf

World Premiere Recording, 2000 (Original Cast Records) (1 / 5) Betty Comden and Adolph Green followed On the Town with this disappointment, a satire of the 1920s. Except for a dance sequence that appeared in Jerome Robbins’ Broadway, the 1945 show was largely forgotten until a staged concert performance at the York Theatre led to this recording. In the title role, Kristin Chenoweth chisels her way to the top, going from failed beauty-contest entrant to gangster’s moll and landing a billionaire just as the stock market crashes. Among her victims are Debbie Gravitte as a Texas Guinan-like nightclub owner, Marc Kudisch as a mob figure, and Richard B. Shull as the bank account of her dreams. In general, Morton Gould’s score lacks distinction, and the many dance interludes have been condensed in James Bassi’s four-piece orchestrations. The celebrated Comden and Green wit isn’t always in evidence, but Gravitte gets the best numbers — “Broadway Blossom” and “Havin’ a Time” — and Kudisch delivers a jazzy item called “Bad Timing.” Considering that she has the title role, Chenoweth has relatively little to do (the part was written for dancer Joan McCracken), and her numbers, including “Dreams Come True” and “Faithless,” are forgettable. Still, even if this show is no lost classic, fans of the cast members and of Comden and Green will want to give the CD a spin.  — David Barbour

Original Broadway Cast, 1985 (MCA) (3 / 5) Country-music songwriter Roger Miller furnished the score for this musical version of the Mark Twain classic Huckleberry Finn, and the result is a twangy Broadway sound that’s just right for the beloved tale. The rollicking “Muddy Water” and the more serene “River in the Rain” represent Miller at his best, while quirky comic numbers such as “Hand for the Hog” (Tom Sawyer’s tribute to his porcine pals) illustrate why Miller is also well known as a novelty songwriter. His skill as a tunesmith is unimpeachable here — but his lyrics, while frequently quite clever, are sometimes too simplistic or repetitive for a Broadway book musical. “Waitin’ for the Light to Shine,” for instance, may be the show’s most melodically beautiful number, but there’s little to distinguish it from any other gospel song. As far as good show-tune writing is concerned, Miller does prove himself with the lively opener “Do Ya Wanna Go to Heaven?”and the affecting “Leavin’s Not the Only Way to Go.” The finest performances on this disc are by Daniel Jenkins as Huck and Tony Award-winner Ron Richardson as his best friend, the runaway slave Jim. And a pre-Roseanne John Goodman does a memorable turn as Huck’s crazy father, Pap, railing comically against the “Guv’ment.” — Brooke Pierce

Original Broadway Cast, 1996 (Universal/Decca) (1 / 5) Onstage, Big was a textbook example of how a top creative team with all the right intentions could destroy the charm of a beloved film. On disc, the score by Richard Maltby, Jr. and David Shire provides sporadic enjoyment, even if it’s somewhat overbearing. John Weidman’s book closely follows Gary Ross and Anne Spielberg’s screenplay: Josh (Patrick Levis) is a frustrated 12-year-old who wakes up one morning in the body of an adult (Daniel Jenkins). He runs off to New York, becomes a successful toy executive, and falls in love with a colleague named Susan (Crista Moore). The overture starts things off on an exciting note, and the opening number, “Can’t Wait,” sets the right tone of generation-gap exasperation. But the songs tend to dwell on the characters’ feelings when they’re not straining for exuberance; this is especially true of “Fun,” in which Josh kicks up a ruckus at F.A.O. Schwartz with the toy magnate MacMillan (john Cypher). The quieter numbers work best — especially “Stop, Time,” sung by Josh’s mother (Barbara Walsh), and “I Want to Know,” sung by Josh when he realizes that he’s going to spend the night with Susan. There’s also a catchy chorus number, “Cross the Line,” performed at a toy company party. But too much of the score, especially as arranged by Doug Besterman, is bombastic and full of false high spirits.  — David Barbour

Off Broadway Cast, 1998 (Varèse Sarabande) (4 / 5) At a time when large-scale revues were part of the standard traffic on Broadway, Irving Berlin’s As Thousands Cheer was a Bentley. It had great stars, terrific songs, and clever sketches, all with a specific focus: The show was a Sunday newspaper come to life, its varied components commenting on or illustrating topical stories, Hollywood gossip, comic strips, and even the weather report (“Heat Wave”). If anyone wonders about that “rotogravure” line in “Easter Parade,” this show provides an explanation. Original cast members Clifton Webb and Ethel Waters left recorded souvenirs of the show, and nothing will ever top Waters’ performances of “Harlem on My Mind” and “Heat Wave.” (She did not record the devastating “Supper Time” until years later.) The show itself remained an irretrievable legend until 1998, when a “revival” was produced Off-Broadway by the scrappy and inventive Drama Dept. Wisely, there was no attempt to reproduce the show as it was originally, or to have modern performers pretend to be Marilyn Miller or Ethel Waters. Instead, the production put Berlin’s songs and some of the show’s original sketches into one zippy act performed by a talented cast of six who constantly shifted roles. The accompaniment was piano and bass. The charm of that production is communicated by this “World Premiere Cast Recording,” as it is labeled, which reverts to the original order of the songs and generously reinstates “Easter Parade” (not heard in the actual revival). Howard McGillin, Judy Kuhn, B.D. Wong, Mary Beth Peil, Kevin Chamberlin, and Paula Newsome sing and cavort with skill and enthusiasm — and if Newsome’s “Supper Time” can’t touch the Waters version, neither can anyone else’s. There’s even an unknown Berlin gem here: “Through a Keyhole,” a moody evocation of a Walter Winchell-esque gossip reporter. The show may sound more like “As Dozens Cheer” in this version, but at least the cheers are heartfelt. — Richard Barrios

Original Broadway Cast, 1994 (Varèse Sarabande) (3 / 5) Those looking for a guilty treat can seek out this cast album of a show that ran for only 15 performances on Broadway in 1994. The sequel to the long-running smash The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas reunited that show’s creators: songwriter Carol Hall, director-choreographer Tommy Tune, and book writers Larry L. King and Peter Masterson. Whatever problems the show may have had onstage, the well-produced recording is brassy, occasionally campy, and full of enjoyable music. Hall’s score alternates between country-style melodies and a lush Vegas sound.  If you think you’d enjoy hearing a Broadway chorus chanting “Keep It Up for A. Harry Hardast,” this album belongs on your shelf. The opening number, “Let the Devil Take Us,” bursts with old-time Broadway vitality. Throughout, the performers sound like they’re having fun, even if they collectively press the gas pedal all the way to the floor in an effort to make the show work. The wink-nudge jokes and showbiz tricks pile up, and the dialogue swatches on the CD — as well as the notes in the accompanying booklet — convey an idea of the plot’s complexities. But by the time the recording ends with a patriotic flourish and a medley-style curtain call, only the most stone-hearted will not be at least partly won over. Dee Hoty sings “Picture Show” with a smile in her voice, puts over “I’m Leavin’ Texas” well, effectively superintends the phone-sex number “Call Me,” and has a charming duet with Scott Holmes, “It’s Been a While.” Peter Matz (orchestrations) and Wally Harper (vocal and dance arrangements) do excellent teamwork; just listen to the “Bankity-Bank” section of “I’m Leavin’ Texas,” and you’ll hear how the creativity of these two men gives the music a slick sheen.  — Morgan Sills

Original Broadway Cast, 1978 (MCA) (4 / 5) On the off chance that you’ve never seen or heard of this show, don’t be put off by its title. Yes, it’s about a house of prostitution and its central character is the brothel’s madam, Miss Mona, but this musical is smart, funny, and sexy rather than stupid and smarmy — in contrast to its flop Broadway sequel. With a book by Larry L. King and Peter Masterson, the based-in-fact story concerns the fallout that occurs when a self-righteous TV personality “exposes” the existence of the Chicken Ranch, a whorehouse that’s been in operation for decades. Carol Hall’s tuneful songs are amusing, heartfelt, and rousing by turns. Among the highlights are the expository songs “20 Fans” and “A Lil’ Ole Bitty Pissant Country Place”; the “Aggie Song,” in which a bunch of horny football players plan their victory celebration at the Chicken Ranch; and “Hard Candy Christmas,” sung by the girls when they learn that the place will soon close. Miss Mona is played by Carlin Glynn — the wife of co-author Masterson, who also co-directed the show with Tommy Tune. Glynn does a bang-up job with such numbers as”Girl, You’re a Woman,” “No Lies”(a sassy duet with Delores Hall as the maid, Jewel), and “The Bus From Amarillo.” There are amusing turns by Clint Allmon as TV snoop Melvin P. Thorpe and Jay Garner as the slick Governor of Texas. Henderson Forsythe as Sheriff Ed Earl delivers his one song, the solid country ballad “Good Old Girl,” with lots of feeling.  — Michael Portantiere

Film Soundtrack, 1982 (MCA) (2 / 5) Country-music superstar Dolly Parton was an excellent choice to play Miss Mona in the movie version of Whorehouse. Opposite her is Burt Reynolds, for whom the role of Sheriff Ed Earl was transformed into a younger, more self-involved character. The soundtrack orchestrations are fuller than the stage originals, although not excessively Hollywoodized. The huge mistake made here was the excision of several of Carol Hall’s songs in favor of others written by Parton. Apparently, the star wrote several new songs for the flick, but only the lame Parton-Reynolds duet “Sneakin’ Around” made the final cut; another Parton addition, “I Will Always Love You,” had been written earlier, and several years after the release of the Whorehouse film would become a monster hit for Whitney Houston. The great Theresa Merritt, who plays Jewel in the movie, is only heard here singing a few lines of “A Lil’ Ole Bitty Pissant Country Place.” Fortunately, “Texas Has a Whorehouse in It” was retained — it’s sung by Dom DeLuise as Melvyn P. Thorpe — and the governor’s number, “The Sidestep,” is done to perfection by Charles Durning. — M.P.

National Tour Cast, 2001 (Fynsworth Alley) (2 / 5)
This recording of a national touring production of Whorehouse that was built around Ann-Margret in the role of Miss Mona has neither the spontaneity of the original Broadway album nor the polish of the film soundtrack. A-M’s work in the tour engendered some negative reviews; the star’s live performances had hitherto been limited to Vegas acts and arena concerts, and she reportedly seemed unsure of herself in a book show. This album gives credence to the charge of tentativeness that was leveled at her. She never really lets go and belts any high notes, which is a disappointment in songs like “A L’il Ole Bitty Pissant Country Place,” “No Lies,” and “The Bus From Amarillo.” Still, A-M works well within her limitations, sounding just fine in the lower-lying sections of the role and employing a sexy, breathy head voice for the higher parts. Even if her vocal performance lacks theatrical energy, it has its own sort of charm. As for the rest of the cast: Gary Sandy as the sheriff is appealing in “Good Old Girl,” Rob Donohue as Melvin P. Thorpe is a stitch in “Texas Has a Whorehouse in It,” Roxie Lucas sings “Doatsy Mae” persuasively, and Avery Sommers has a high old time as Jewel. “A Friend to Me,” a pretty new ballad by Carol Hall, is well rendered by Ann-Margret, and also by Hall herself in a bonus track.  (P.S.: The cover art for the recording, featuring A-M in an aggressively sexy pose, is quite ridiculous.) — M.P.

Film Soundtrack, 1943 (Rhino-Turner) (4 / 5) Good News was the college musical par excellence in the 1920s, and Best Foot Forward did the same for high schools when it opened on Broadway in 1941. The rousing “Buckle Down, Winsocki” became an instant classic, and the show’s young and gifted creators, Hugh Martin and Ralph Blane, promptly moved to Hollywood. Much of the Broadway cast went with them for the unusually faithful movie version, headlined by Lucille Ball (vocals dubbed by Gloria Grafton) and the Harry James orchestra. Among the surprises here are an overture that’s not heard in the film and the added-then-cut “Who Do You Think I Am?” If the James orchestra is decidedly upscale for Winsocki High — “Two O’Clock Jump” is sensational — there is abundant energy in the air, as a talented cast of youthful pros rips through Martin and Blane’s funny and spirited score. Possibly best of all is the young Nancy Walker, who, with June Allyson and Gloria de Haven, makes “The Three B’s” one of the film’s highlights. Tommy Dix, short of stature and big of voice, had a supporting role in the Broadway show but was upgraded to male lead in the movie; his “Buckle Down, Winsocki,” moved to the 11-o’clock spot, is a stirring conclusion to a fine film. — Richard Barrios

Off-Broadway Cast, 1963 (CAD/DRG) (3 / 5) When Best Foot Forward was revived in 1963, Martin and Blane added a sort-of-new song, “You Are for Loving,” originally written for a television production of Meet Me in St. Louis. The interpolation was deemed necessary for a headline-grabber in a supporting role: Liza Minnelli made her New York stage debut at the age of 17 in a well-received production with an energetic young company that also included a pair of brothers named Glenn and Christopher Walken. Judging from this recording, the cast had just the kind of enthusiasm needed for this show. Lead Paula Wayne is particularly attractive in the rueful “Hollywood Story,” and “The Three B’s” is almost as much of a showstopper as it is in the movie. (When Wayne left the show, she was replaced in the role of the washed-up movie star by a real-life washed-up movie star, Veronica Lake.) In the secondary role of Ethel, Liza throws off the show’s balance somewhat, but no complaints can be made over her youthful glow or her integration into the ensemble numbers. With its modest piano accompaniment, this performance has the appropriate air of a high school musical done by an unusually gifted group of students.  — R.B.

Original Broadway Cast, 1964 (Capito1/DRG) (4 / 5) Timing is everything, and this lush show about the life and loves of Benjamin Franklin is an excellent example of the right musical at the wrong time. With its melodic score and literate lyrics, it’s a winsome foray into the mind of Franklin if he had been a musical comedy star as well as a great statesman. But the show is only remembered today as a precursor to the more successful 1776, produced a mere five years later.  At any rate, the cast album represents a gem of a lost Broadway musical. It stars Robert Preston, fresh from his stage and screen triumphs in The Music Man; his performance leaps off of the recording and into your lap. The album also features charismatic singing by the Swedish musical theater star Ulla Sallert and the ingenue favorite Susan Watson. Many of the songs by Sidney Michaels and Mark Sandrich, Jr. are topnotch and appropriate to the subject and time period; two numbers, “To Be Alone With You” and “You’re in Paris,” were ghostwritten by the talented young Jerry Herman. Others lapse into a tired operetta genre but, on the whole, this album is a joy to hear and a prime example of showmanship from Broadway’s golden era.  — Gerard Alessandrini

Original Broadway Cast, 1956 (Columbia/Sony) (5 / 5) There was only one Judy Holliday, a comic genius who could make you laugh, then break your heart a split second later. Her good friends Betty Comden and Adolph Green provided her with a loving showcase in Bells Are Ringing, and this essential recording preserves one of the great Broadway performances. Holliday stars as Ella Peterson, a lonely operator for the Susanswerphone answering service, who meddles in the lives of her clients. Breaking all the rules, she helps Jeff Moss (Sydney Chaplin), a boozing, self-doubting Broadway playwright, get his career back in order — without revealing her identity. There’s more trouble brewing when another client, Sandor, posing as the head of a classical record company, uses Susanswerphone as the front for a betting ring. This less-than-magisterial plot is fitted out with the most delightful score to come from the long-running partnership of Comden, Green, and Jule Styne. Holliday is given free rein in “It’s a Perfect Relationship,” her fantasy about Jeff; “Is It a Crime?” (her defense of meddling), in which she says that if she’d been around in the days of Romeo and Juliet, “Those two kids would be alive today!”; and the number to end all 11-o’clock numbers, “I’m Going Back.” “Drop That Name,” sung by the chic guests at an Upper East Side party, is a dazzling catalog of celebrities circa 1956, and “The Midas Touch” is a typically funny Comden and Green spoof of nightclub shows. The story’s melancholy undertone comes through in the moving “Long Before I Knew You” and in that ultimate song of resignation, “The Party’s Over.” As Jeff, Sydney Chaplin has a masculine manner and boyish enthusiasm that are real ‘assets, and he partners delightfully with Holliday in the lovely “Just in Time.” Eddie Lawrence is an amusing Sandor — especially when seducing Jean Stapleton as Sue, Ella’s boss and cousin, in the comic waltz “Salzburg.” Peter Gennaro is Holliday’s playmate in the Latin dance spoof “Mu-Cha-Cha.” Robert Russell Bennett’s orchestrations are jaunty and witty. Bonus tracks on the CD include Jule Styne performing “It’s a Perfect Relationship,” “Just in Time,” and the cut song “Boogie, Woogie, Shoogie, Baby.” — David Barbour

Film Soundtrack, 1960 (CapitollDRG) (2 / 5) The film version of Bells Are Ringing is essential viewing for Holliday’s performance, but the soundtrack album is less interesting. Most of the numbers highlighting Comden and Green’s oddball humor have been cut, including “Is It a Crime?” and “Mu-Cha-Cha.” Much more mysteriously, “Long Before I Knew You” has been eliminated as well. But one nice addition is a jazzy, percussive gem: “Better Than a Dream,” sung by Ella and Jeff at their first meeting. Dean Martin’s crooning as Jeff is a plus, and the two stars sound like they’re having fun in “Just in Time.” If anything, Holliday’s reading of “The Party’s Over” is even more affecting here than on the original recording, and she offers another zesty performance of “I’m Going Back.” Still, it’s not the full score, so stick with the Broadway album. (Note: A very young Hal Linden, who had understudied and replaced Sydney Chaplin on Broadway, turns up as the soloist in “The Midas Touch.”) — D.B.

Broadway Cast, 2001 (Fynsworth Alley) (1 / 5) Faith Prince was at sea in this misbegotten revival, which lacked both hilarity and heart. The disc is much the same; gone are Holliday’s marvelously offhand humor and compelling sadness. Prince projects a tough professionalism that’s at odds with the role of Ella, and her accomplished vocals further rob the character of any vulnerability. However, she does offer a lovely rendition of “The Party’s Over.” Marc Kudisch works much too hard as Jeff, and the strain shows. In the hands of David Garrison and Beth Fowler, the Sandor/Sue subplot falls flat, and Don Sebesky’s brassy, reduced orchestrations pale in comparison to the originals.  — D.B.