Sara Bareilles: What’s Inside: Songs from Waitress, 2015 (Epic)
(4 / 5) The idea of Sara Bareilles writing a musical wasn’t so far-out, even before it happened. The 21st century has seen several musical theater scores written by popular singer/songwriters (Kinky Boots, The Last Ship, 9 to 5), and with her insightful lyrics and inventive, pop/soul colored music, Bareilles seemed a natural fit for the modern musical stage. But, gifted as many of these writers are, few have been able to successfully translate their talent to Broadway, so it’s refreshing that Bareilles has done as well as she has in this respect. What’s Inside is not a cast recording, but more of a concept album that previews Bareilles’ score for Waitress — a musical based on the 2007 film of the same title, about a diner waitress and pie maker extraordinaire named Jenna who’s trying to escape an unhappy marriage, only to discover that she’s pregnant. Though the plot is a bit of a downer, the film used dry humor and charming performances to create more of a grounded, intimate comedy. Bareilles’ songs match the tone of the film and dig deep into the characters, from the deceptively peppy “Opening Up” to the ethereal, dreamlike “Soft Place to Land” to the heartbreaking “She Used to Be Mine.” All of the tracks on this album are sung by Bareilles (with guest vocals by Jason Mraz), and it’s charming to hear her shift from Jenna to other characters throughout. What’s Inside: Songs from Waitress is both a fun showcase for her as a singer/songwriter and a great introduction to her first musical. — Matt Koplik
Original Broadway Cast, 2016 (DMI Soundtracks)
(3 / 5) This recording preserves the score for Waitress as presented on Broadway, with a fair amount of dialogue included on the album, vocal arrangements beefed up, and seven new songs added (“Door Number Three” has been revised to become “What Baking Can Do”). It all feels a little overstuffed. Part of what made Waitress work so well on screen were the grounded performances and the simple, almost quaint way in which the film presented itself as a story of everyday people dealing with everyday situations. By comparison, the Broadway production and this recording are much broader and flashier, and the material suffers because of it; many songs are overwhelmed by the arrangements or lose their emotional potency due to performances that lean more towards caricature than humanity. Also, some of the additional songs — for example “It Only Takes a Taste” and “I Love You Like a Table” — are not as strong as those Bareilles first presented on the concept album. On a positive note, the cast is made up of stellar singers. They bring to the score a Broadway shine that makes the album easily listenable, even if it’s not the best style for the piece. The best thing about the recording is Jessie Mueller in the central role of Jenna. Her voice is essentially as sweet and smooth as Bareilles’, yet versatile enough to delve deep into dark emotional territory and bring aching power to “She Used to Be Mine.” In addition, Mueller is a smart actress who offers the most realistic performance to be heard here. Every time she’s front and center, she wipes away the glossiness that coats the rest of the album, and she brings back the score’s heartbeat. — M.K.




(2 / 5) First seen at the York Theatre Company’s home at St. Peter’s Church and then in a commercial run at the Westside Theatre, this show was a crowd pleaser largely for Joshua Bergasse’s exciting, tap-heavy choreography, which obviously cannot be experienced via the cast album. But the recording is still worth hearing for the enjoyable score by Robert Creighton and Christopher McGovern, and for Creighton’s dynamic performance in the title role: James Cagney (1899-1986), who started as a song and dance man in vaudeville and went on to huge fame for his tough-guy roles in such movies as The Public Enemy, Angels With Dirty Faces, and White Heat. Another major character in the show is studio mogul Jack L. Warner (Bruce Sabath), who in the opening number, “Black and White,” boasts of taking “a shrimp with pride from the Lower East Side” and turning him into “the greatest tough-guy the silver screen ever saw.” Indeed, the contentious relationship between Cagney and Warner provides much of the show’s dramatic energy, and one of its best sequences deals with the mid-career triumph Cagney achieved when he played legendary songwriter/performer George M. Cohan in the Warner Bros. biopic Yankee Doodle Dandy. Highlights of the Creighton/McGovern score include the charming “Falling in Love,” in which Cagney and his future wife (played by Ellen Zolezzi) find it difficult to say the “L” word, and Cagney’s introspective second-act solos, “How Will I Be Remembered?” and “Tough Guy.” Also included are two Cohan songs that were featured in Yankee Doodle Dandy: “Grand Old Flag,” for the Act I finale, and the title song, for the epilogue. The recording would have benefited from a larger orchestra (only five players here), but it’s entertaining for the stronger moments of the score and the performances of Creighton and the rest of the cast, which also includes Jeremy Benton, Danette Holden, and Josh Walden in multiple roles. — Michael Portantiere



(5 / 5) In several of their shows, John Kander and Fred Ebb have used various types of entertainment as the contextual setting for exploring historical and social issues. In Cabaret, sleazy nightclub routines parallel the excesses of Weimar Germany and the rise of Nazism; Chicago‘s vaudeville acts reveal the corrupt justice system of the Roaring Twenties. In The Scottsboro Boys, the tragic story of nine young African Americans who were unjustly accused of raping two white women in 1931 is told in the form of a minstrel show. The result is a searing, brilliant work with depth, power, and guts. Kander says they chose the format for the opportunities it provided: an ensemble, led by an Interlocutor (John Cullum), telling stories, jokes and songs. Mr. Bones and Mr. Tambo (the versatile Colman Domingo and Forrest McClendon) assist by playing multiple characters (“White men’s our speciality”). Needless to say, the minstrel show itself is a stark reminder of racism, reinforcing social injustice with every number. In the rousing opener, the lead among the accused men, Haywood Patterson (the impressive Brandon Victor Dixon), asks “This time, can we tell it like it really happened?” The Interlocutor benignly replies, “Of course.” Haywood’s resolve to tell the truth provides the score with a constant refrain, from his first defense (the Bert Williams style “Nothin'”) to the comic fable “Make Friends With the Truth” to “Zat So?” His defiant cry “You Can’t Do Me” sets up the boys’ refusal of the Interlocutor’s call for a cakewalk and a “happy ending,” subverting the minstrel show. The fates of the real-life Scottsboro Boys were anything but happy, but the final scene places their case in the broader context to the civil rights movement, giving a glimpse of a better future. The score also contains one of Kander & Ebb’s finest songs, the poignant “Go Back Home,” with a beautiful, wistful melody that reoccurs throughout the underscoring. (A bonus track has Kander performing the number.) Throughout the recording, Cullum shines as the unctuous Interlocutor, his genially racist attitude clear in “It’s Gonna Take Time” (cut from the subsequent Broadway production) and “Southern Days.” The Interlocutor misses Mammy’s ribs and mint juleps, but conveniently forgets the lynchings and cross-burnings. Domingo and McClendon’s talents are also evident throughout, especially when they assume the guises of the Attorney General and lawyer Samuel Liebowitz in savagely satirical numbers revealing Southern anti-Semitism and patronizing New York showmanship. (“Just ask my chauffeur, Rufus!”) Here was no easy subject, but this musical may be Kander and Ebb’s most important work; three years after the show opened, the Scottsboro boys were granted a posthumous pardon. — Laura Frankos














