Television Cast, 1966 (Kritzerland) (3 / 5) Stephen Sondheim provided a brief but compelling score for this TV musical with a teleplay by James Goldman, based on a short story by John Collier. It tells the odd tale of a struggling poet named Charles, who decides to retreat from society by remaining in a Manhattan department store after closing time; he apparently intends to remain there alone indefinitely, retreating to the store’s nether regions during business hours, but soon he comes upon a small group of people who have decided to do the same thing. Charles falls in love with Ella, a young woman who has lived in the store since early childhood and barely remembers the outside world. In the telecast, Charles was played by Anthony Perkins, Ella by Charmian Carr. No cast album was released until 2008, when Krizerland transferred the soundtrack recordings of the songs to CD. Since it was never a stage musical and is unlikely ever to be one, Evening Primrose doesn’t warrant a lengthy review here, but it must be said that the four-song score contains two of the best ballads Sondheim ever wrote: Ella’s touching reminiscence “I Remember,” and the gorgeous duet “Take Me to the World.” Perkins, who had not very successfully tried his hand as a musical theater leading man in the 1960 Broadway show Greenwillow, is well cast and persuasive as Charles, while Carr, best known for her performance as Liesl in the mega-hit film version of The Sound of Music, is a plaintive Ella. The mid-’60s monaural sound quality of the recording is not great but acceptable. [Note: The full, 52-minute telecast is available separately on home video.] — Michael Portantiere

Studio Cast, 2001 (Nonesuch) (4 / 5) The first part of this essential album contains the first commercial recordings of the songs that Sondheim wrote for The Frogs (see separate review, under that title). The second part is devoted to his even-briefer score for Evening Primrose, the 1966 TV musical that concerns the drop-out poet Charles’s encounter with, as Frank Rich phrases it in his notes for this recording, “a mysterious nocturnal society of eccentric shut-ins as well as the muse he’s been searching for, a sort of modern Rapunzel named Ella.” Here, Charles and Ella are sung by Neil Patrick Harris and Theresa McCarthy. Both do fine jobs of delivering the highlights of this mini-musical that are mentioned in the review above, as well as the score’s only other two numbers: Charles’s character-establishing “If You Can Find Me, I’m Here” and the extended duet “When?” All of the songs benefit greatly from Jonathan Tunick’s typically superb orchestrations as played by the American Theatre Orchestra under the baton of Sondheim specialist Paul Gemignani. The CD boasts Nonesuch’s usual, first-rate recorded sound: powerful but not harsh, ambient but not overly reverberant, with great dynamic range. — M.P.

Original Off-Broadway Cast, 2020 (Broadway Records) (2 / 5) This recording represents the Off-Broadway production of Emojiland, a knowingly campy musical that proudly planted its digital freak flag on the theatrical landscape. In an era when even many Off-Broadway ventures are crafted for mainstream appeal, usually in the hope of receiving a transfer to Broadway, it’s somewhat refreshing to listen to this cast album of a show that has no objective other than to entertain through humor and absurdity. How successful it is at doing so is another matter. Written by Laura Schein and Keith Harrison, the musical takes its title from the ideograms that have become so popular in the age of communication through digital devices. The story explores a world populated by these emojis — including such favorites as Kissy Face and Pile of Poo — as they grapple with the disruption of their society that has resulted from the latest software update. Though the show’s plot touches on major themes like xenophobia and prejudice, Emojiland has no intention of being any meatier than a bag of gummy bears. Schein and Harrison’s upbeat score appropriately leans towards techno-pop, and if their lyrics aren’t laugh-out-loud funny, they’re contentedly witty and keep the fun going. Emojiland also benefits from a cast that appears game for the ridiculousness of the piece, led by Schein herself as ingénue Smize. Lesli Margherita and Josh Lamon, in particular, give ingenious comedic turns as the emojis Princeess and Prince, respectively. Like any sugar rush, the show starts to wear itself out rather quickly, and once Lamon and Margherita finish letting loose with the Act 2 opener “Firewall Ball,” the album becomes something of a chore to finish. But even if it doesn’t stay with you for long, Emojiland offers lots of fun in the moment. — Matt Koplik

Film Soundtrack, 2013 (Walt Disney Records) (4 / 5) One of the most popular titles in Disney’s history, Frozen revolves around two royal sisters: Elsa, who has the power to conjure snow and ice but is unable to control it, and Anna, who possesses no magical powers but is adventurous and desirous to be in love. By the end, they realize that the love they have for each other is strong enough to help Elsa control her powers, and is just as meaningful as any romantic relationship. A massive and enduring success, Frozen has received constant exposure in pop culture and media, leading many to become exhausted by the film, but first time listeners to this soundtrack will likely understand why it has continued to capture audiences. The songs, written by the married team of Kristin Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez (with incidental and choral scoring by Christophe Beck), are an intelligent blend of traditional musical theater and modern day pop, making the score feel both classic and current. (Doug Besterman provides lush and creative orchestrations.) The lyrics are often playful and cute while still offering strong character insight. “In Summer,” in particular, has a wittily morbid edge to it as sung by Olaf, a clueless snowman (Josh Gad) who wants nothing more than to experience warm weather, not realizing how it will effect his snow-based body. Frozen also benefits from having the strongest vocal cast for a Disney film since Beauty and the Beast, employing almost exclusively Broadway talent. In addition to Gad, we have Idina Menzel as Elsa, Kristin Bell as Anna, and Santino Fontana bringing credible Prince-ly charm to Hans. Bell gets quite a few songs to showcase her pure, classic-Disney-Princess soprano (she and Fontana work particularly well together on “Love is an Open Door”), but it’s Menzel who does the vocal heavy lifting, as in the soundtrack’s phenomenal breakout hit, “Let It Go.” Though it has been overplayed to the point of its becoming a pop culture punchline, at its core the song is well-structured and catchy, belted out by Menzel with great relish. In the movie and on this soundtrack album, only Jonathan Groff is musically  wasted as Kristoff, a romantic foil for Anna, his singing limited to the thankfully short “Reindeers are Better Than People.” Otherwise, Frozen is a delight. — Matt Koplik

Original Broadway Cast, 2018 (Walt Disney Records) (3 / 5) In the continuing line of movies translated to the stage, Disney has had an erratic track record, ranging from great success (The Lion King) to major disappointments (The Little Mermaid, Tarzan). The Broadway adaptation of Frozen, which this recording represents, lies somewhere in the middle. On the plus side, the show tries to dig deeper into its source material than most other Disney stage musicals, but the results are often middling. Kristin Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez have been brought back to expand their score from the film, and Dave Metzger’s orchestrations pretty much follow Doug Besterman’s blueprints. But while new songs like “Dangerous to Dream,” “Hans of the Southern Isles,” and “True Love” are commendable in their intentions to give the characters complexity, they really can’t be described as anything more than serviceably listenable. Of all the additions, the song that comes closest to standing out is “Monster,” a second-act number for Elsa — but, musically, even that feels more like a lesser “Let it Go” than a fully developed new piece. While the principal players may not be able to separate themselves completely from the original movie cast, they are all strong singers and inject plenty of personality into their performances. As the two sisters, Caissie Levy (Elsa) and Patti Murin (Anna) work particularly hard not to present cartoonish interpretations while skillfully navigating the demands of the score. The recording is also well worth a listen for Stephen Oremus’s stunning vocal arrangements, which give the pre-existing songs from the film a shot of Broadway adrenaline and provide the show’s ensemble with rich choral material (“Vuelie” and “Queen Anointed” are particularly haunting). If this recording isn’t good enough to replace Frozen’s original soundtrack, it’s worthy to stand alongside it — or a few steps behind, at least. — M.K.

Original Off-Broadway Cast, 2018 (Masterworks Broadway) (3 / 5) People have adapted Shakespeare’s plays into musicals before, usually taking on the Bard’s hits. Librettist/lyricist Peter Kellogg and composer David Friedman chose one of the “problem plays,” Measure for Measure — a complicated stew of morality, corruption, and justice, with not much comedy in it. Kellogg and Friedman dropped their characters in Old West Arizona,  and ramped up the sex (keeping the famous “bed trick”) and fun. The result, Desperate Measures, is a raucous, bawdy, old-fashioned musical comedy. The album can’t supply the sight gags, but the performers have great comedic chops, and they land every punch line in Kellogg’s lyrics. Friedman has called his score “Jewish country,” but it’s charmingly varied despite the dominant Western twang. “It Doesn’t Hurt To Try” is a hoedown with banjo and fiddle; “Someday They Will Thank Me” is a comic patter number for the villain, the sleazy governor (Nick Wyman, with a outrageous German accent); and the first act finale, “In the Dark,” is a complex choral piece set to a rhumba rhythm. The scene-setting opener, “The Ballad of Johnny Blood,” is an over-the-top homage to the themes of classic Western TV shows and films like Rawhide and The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly. Broadway influences are present, too, including small nods to Oklahoma! and a big one to Annie Get Your Gun with the best comic challenge duet since “Anything You Can Do”:  In “Just For You,” Johnny (Conor Ryan) and saloon girl Bella (the uproarious Lauren Molina) argue over how far each would go in the name of love. (“I slept with another guy, just for you.” “Shot a man and watched him die, just for you.”) Molina also shines in her saloon striptease, “It’s Getting Hot In Here,” and in the duet “The Way That You Feel,” as novice nun Susanna (Emma Degerstedt, with a lovely soprano) instructs her how to be less risqué for the bed trick. Overall, this is a spirited score with heart. — Laura Frankos

Original Broadway Cast, 2017 (Atlantic ) (4 / 5) A musical that unapologetically wears its heart on its sleeve, Dear Evan Hansen is the most high profile theater work to date from the songwriting team of Benj Pasek and Justin Paul. Set in a nondescript modern suburb, the show centers around a high school introvert with intense anxiety issues who finds himself involved in a misunderstanding which, partly due to the double-edged sword of social media and its galvanizing impact, snowballs into a giant lie that does both good and harm. Though the character of Evan is a little too broadly painted in his neuroses, and the show’s commentary on the effect of social media in modern culture doesn’t go quite as deep as it should, Pasek and Paul’s score is memorable and compelling, managing to wax poetic without being too on-the-nose in its imagery. Ben Platt, in the title role, does the majority of the vocal heavy lifting here, delivering a fully rounded and thrilling performance. It helps that he’s given the best songs in the score: the show’s biggest hit, “Waving Through a Window,” as well as the crushing “Words Fail” and the lovely if slightly heavy-handed “For Forever.” Platt is well supported by Rachel Bay Jones as Evan’s endearing, struggling, single mother; and Laura Dreyfuss, refreshingly understated as Zoe, the object of Evan’s affections, who may be harmed most by Evan’s lie. The cast album includes minimal dialogue, opting instead to present each song as a stand-alone item. While this doesn’t harm the flow of the recording, and has helped a few of the songs to break out as popular hits, two songs suffer from such treatment: “Good For You,” a cathartic release of Evan’s mom’s pent-up frustration, here plateaus in its anger, with no release; and the offbeat humor of “Sincerely Me” comes across as somewhat tasteless out of context. That said, the rest of the album works very well. Alex Lacamoire’s orchestrations (with additional work by Christopher Jahnke) are appropriately pop-oriented, and Justin Paul’s vocal arrangements never go overboard with vocal pyrotechnics. The restraint in their work separates DEH from many other contemporary scores, allowing the emotional weight of the piece to really resonate with the listener. And there are plenty of emotions here to resonate. — Matt Koplik

Motion Picture Soundtrack, 2021 (Interscope) (3 / 5) While the Broadway stage production of Dear Evan Hansen received critical acclaim, the movie version was met largely with controversy and derision. Director Stephen Chbosky stated that the main reason the project went forward was to “preserve” Ben Platt’s performance as Evan, leading some to label the movie as nothing more than a vanity project. Listening to this soundtrack, one may feel that some artistic decisions were made to showcase Platt rather than to best adapt the musical for the motion picture medium. For example, several Benj Pasek-Justin Paul songs from the show that didn’t include Evan have been cut, and while few listeners will miss “To Break In A Glove,” the excision of other characters’ songs has sanded down the piece’s cynical edge, making the moral ambiguity of the plot and its view of Evan’s duplicity more unappealing. All of that said, the soundtrack is still a pleasant listening experience. No matter the consensus on Platt’s performance on screen, his singing voice is exceptional, and he has an even greater control of his instrument here than on the Broadway recording. The enlarged arrangements and orchestrations  — typical of movie adaptations of stage musicals — are fun, if not as dramatically compelling as the restrained originals. The supporting cast is strong, though largely wasted, with not much material to showcase their talents. Kaitlyn Dever makes a particularly effective Zoe, and Julianne Moore shows a surprisingly sweet singing voice in “So Big/So Small,” even if it she sometimes sounds overly auto-tuned. Two new songs were added for the movie, the more notable of them being “The Anonymous Ones.” Given to the character Ilana, played by Amandla Stenberg, the song was co-written by Stenberg with Pasek and Paul, and it aims to provide more of an inner-life for a character who was mostly a plot device in the stage show. Compared to other songs that have been added to past movie versions of stage musicals, this one is more satisfying and well-rounded, even if it’s not quite up to the quality level of the rest of the score. — M.K.

Original Off-Broadway Cast, 2013 (Ghostlight) (3 / 5) Many musical scores can stand perfectly well as cast recordings, separate from their staged productions. Others lose something when deprived of the character and plot development revealed in the shows’ libretti. For all its virtues, Dogfight — songs by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, book by Peter Duchan — falls within the latter group. Based on the 1991 film, it’s the story of some Marines tearing up San Francisco in late 1963, the night before they ship out to Vietnam. They plan a “dogfight,”  a contest in which each jarhead contributes fifty bucks to a kitty that will be won by the guy who brings the ugliest date to the party.  A nasty game, indeed — and the boys, including lead Eddie Birdlace (Derek Klena), appear as insensitive, hot-blooded louts. Fresh out of boot camp and convinced that they’re invincible, their pickup lines in the song “Hey, Good-Lookin'” are lies and braggadocio. Eddie finds a waitress, Rose (the sweet-voiced Lindsay Mendez), and pressures her to “Come to a Party” while privately exulting over his chances of winning the dogfight. Rose, for her part, is thrilled to be going out with a boy; in “Nothing Short of Wonderful,” she dithers over what to wear in staccato phrases, sounding like a mashup of Cinderella and the Baker’s Wife from Into The Woods. (The opening vamp of the title song also echoes that Sondheim show.) Clearly, this evening will not go well for Rose. But, sometime between the invitation and the party, Eddie has a change of heart that isn’t part of the score, although it’s described in the recording notes. The libretto shows us how Eddie grows to like Rose as they walk to the party, but none of that is in the score; on the album, he jumps from acting like a complete cad to trying unsuccessfully to take Rose home before the judging, in order to save her the embarrassment. Similarly, the recording doesn’t include Eddie’s later apology or indicate how the relationship progresses. Still, there’s much to appreciate here. Pasek and Paul know how to craft effective theater songs with nuance and layers. A few of the lyrics are a little too facile in telegraphing emotions or a sense of time and place, but most are very well written. The music ranges from early-sixties pop to Rose’s folk songs and powerful, revealing character numbers. “Come to a Party” works on multiple levels as variously sung by the callous Marines, the naive Rose, or Marcy, a knowing prostitute (played with sledgehammer bluntness by Annaleigh Ashford). The boys’ cockiness is evident as they take the town in “Some Kinda Time” and plan their big homecoming in “Hometown Hero’s Ticker Tape Parade.” Reality shatters their hopes, and Eddie’s devastating “Come Back” portrays what the war has done to him. But Rose is the real star here, and her journey comes through best in the score. She’s alternately shy and manic at first, then furious at the “Dogfight,” and soul-searching in “Pretty Funny.” The show’s emotional crux is found in her song “Before It’s Over,” when she realizes she has somehow benefited from the dreadful experience. As noted above, Eddie’s character growth isn’t charted as well in the songs, but this is still a solid score that tells a compelling story. — Laura Frankos

Original Off-Broadway Cast, 2011 (PS Classics) (2 / 5) On paper, Death Takes a Holiday probably looked like a wonderful idea for a musical. Composer-lyricist Maury Yeston has done some very admirable work, and audiences have long been intrigued with the story told here — based on a play by Alberto Casella that has received several adaptations, most famously as a 1934 film that starred Fredric March. So what went wrong? After the success of Titanic, Yeston and librettist Peter Stone chose to create an intimate musical inspired by Casella’s tale of a weekend during which Death puts aside his scythe and falls for a mortal girl. (Thomas Meehan joined the project after Stone’s death.) As it turned out, the plot was the first stumbling block for the adapters; the list of successful fantasy musicals is a short one, and the concept here is a whopper to swallow. Still, a strong opening number can get an audience to accept darn near anything — but Yeston disappoints with “In the Middle of Your Life/Nothing Happened.” Instead of being made to understand what it is about Grazia (Jill Paice) that causes Death (Kevin Earley) to stay his hand when she’s thrown from a car, we’re wincing at the bare exposition of the  lyrics: “What is that darkness I see ahead?” “We’re going into a spin!” Also wince-inducing is the line, “Nothing can go wrong for her.” (Did they really sing that? Yup.) Nor do we buy it when Death, impersonating a Russian prince,  tells Grazia’s father (Michael Siberry) of his desire for a vacation. Earley, who took over the role during preview performances when Julian Ovenden developed vocal problems, has a terrific voice, but its timbre isn’t well suited to the the Grim Reaper’s darker musical moments. He’s more effective in the lighter “Alive!” discovering the joys of breakfast, and in the romantic numbers with Paice, a solid Grazia. Oddly, the score’s best songs center on an unseen character: Grazia’s dead brother, Roberto. Major Fenton (Matt Cavenaugh) sees something in Prince Sirki’s eyes that eerily remind him of “Roberto’s Eyes” when his friend was shot down; and Rebecca Luker, as the mother, tells Sirki what death does to a family in the devastating “Losing Roberto.” The former conveys terror far better than characters intoning “Death is in the house!” and the latter lets Sirki truly know the pain he inflicts with each fatality, effectively leading to Earley’s heartfelt big number, “I Thought That I Could Live.” Would that the rest of the score matched the quality of these songs. Yeston’s melodies are lovely, with a nice Continental air (aside from a shimmy designed to get the cast dancing), but it’s hard to get past the often clunky lyrics. — Laura Frankos

Original Broadway Cast 2005 (Ghostlight) (4 / 5) David Yazbek’s Broadway scores are just plain fun, whether it’s the frenetic farce of Women On the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown or the blue-collar humor of The Full Monty. For Dirty Rotten Scoundrels (book by Jeffrey Lane, based on the 1988 film), Yazbek wrote a genuine, old-fashioned musical comedy in which  the various songs put on as many guises as the con-men characters. There are pop pastiches, a scatological list song presented with Cowardesque elegance, a rueful ballad, a samba, and the most vulgar “I want” song in musical history, along with several numbers that require the performers to use accents outrageous enough to start another Franco-Prussian war. For all these varied styles, the score is well-tailored to the characters, and the excellent cast delivers. The scoundrels are the suave Lawrence Jameson (John Lithgow) and the crass Freddy Benson, the latter a small-time grifter eager for bigger scams. Klutzy heiress Christine Colgate (Sheri Rene Scott) is their mark, with Joanna Gleason and Gregory Jbara as the obligatory comic secondary couple. (I told you it’s a traditional musical comedy.) The versatile Lithgow assumes personae ranging from a dignified pseudo-prince to a sadistic Austrian shrink, yet still achieves a believable wistfulness in “Love Sneaks In.” Tony-winner Butz salivates over the “Great Big Stuff” he craves (“I wanna be like Trump!”), shrieks as mad Prince Ruprecht, and, with Scott, croons an anatomy lesson in “Love Is My Legs.” Scott pairs well with both tricksters and soars in the zippy “Here I Am.” (Yazbek is a fan of Ira Gershwin and Cole Porter’s skill with internal rhymes; they’d approve his work here.) Gleason and Jbara make the most of their numbers, especially the absurd yet sexy “Like Zis/Like Zat.” Harold Wheeler’s orchestrations have the right comic-caper tone for the proceedings, and the vocal arrangements by Yazbek and Ted Sperling let the ensemble punctuate the score with jazzy exclamation points. The recording includes two demos by Yazbek, plus Scott in a lovely version of “Nothing Is Too Wonderful To Be True” — a surprisingly pretty song with Butz’s comic verses removed. There’s also a bit of dialogue from Lithgow, warning listeners just before the tracks that reveal the final twists — the likes of which we haven’t encountered since The Mystery of Edwin Drood. The title of the show’s opening number is “Give Them What They Want.” I want more David Yazbek musicals. — Laura Frankos

Original Off-Broadway Cast, 2015 (Ghostlight) (3 / 5) In Jean Webster’s 1912 novel Daddy-Long-Legs, Jerusha Abbott is an orphan whose intelligence prompts orphanage trustee Jervis Pendleton to pay for her education. He requests monthly reports on her studies through letters from her, though he has made it clear that he will not reply, remaining anonymous. Ultimately, she discovers he is her roommate’s highly attractive uncle. The novel’s success inspired a play, a 1951 London musical (Love From Judy), and four films. (The Fred Astaire movie Daddy Long Legs is far removed from the original.) The challenge for any adapter is the book’s epistolary style; the reader sees Jerusha’s experiences through her highly personable missives, and falls for her as Jervis does. How to translate a bunch of letters to the stage? The obvious answer is to open up the story, crowding the stage with multiple sets and lots of classmates and friends who are referred to in the book. But John Caird (book) and Paul Gordon (songs) pared their musical to the bare bones: Jerusha, Jervis, and those letters, which comprise most of Jerusha’s songs, performed by Megan McGinnis with a fine sense of developing maturity. The letters are also the indirect source of the songs written for Jervis (Paul Alexander Nolan),  as they represent his reactions to them. The greatest strength of the score is the arc of these letter songs. In “Like Other Girls,” Jerusha frets about fitting in, given her humble background, and she bemoans her ignorance of the classics in the delightful “Things I Don’t Know.” Jervis believably moves from reserved philanthropy (“She Thinks I’m Old”) to following Jerusha’s syllabus to wondering “What Does She Mean By Love?” Gordon convincingly explains Jervis’s reluctance to emotional attachments, a key reason why he keeps his identity secret even after meeting Jerusha in person. There are other gems — the sprightly “My Manhattan,” a valentine to New York, and the agonizing “Graduation Day,” when Jerusha’s heart breaks because she thinks her mysterious benefactor is a no-show. (He’s there, of course, and also hurting.) Not everything works. The opening is somewhat mired in exposition, especially Jerusha’s impersonation of another orphan. Jervis’ realization number, “Charity,” lacks the emotional punch it needs, and the finale, “All This Time,” is far too understated; we’re invested in this pair, and we want a bigger payoff.  Gordon’s melodies are intimate and sweet, played by piano, cello and guitar. The score is not period, but it fits the property in other respects.  A final note: Those who grew up with the novel may wonder why, in the musical, Jerusha doesn’t change her hated first name, foisted on her at the orphanage. Paul Gordon has said he wrote a song for that scene, but it didn’t work well — and also, unlike the character, he and Caird like the name “Jerusha.” — Laura Frankos

Original Broadway Cast, 2006 (Ghostlight) (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

Original Broadway Cast,  2015 (PS Classics) (5 / 5) Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home may seem like strange fodder for a Broadway musical. A memoir in the form of a graphic novel, it chronicles Bechdel’s coming out as a lesbian during her freshman year of college — shortly before her father, whom she discovers is a closeted homosexual, commits suicide. But creators Jeanine Tesori, Broadway’s premier female composer, and playwright Lisa Kron, here functioning as both librettist and lyricist, created a dazzling memory musical with a score that is unassuming, yet powerful. The show is narrated by Alison as an adult, played by a grounded Beth Malone; she is struggling to write the memoir as she sorts through her memories, some more vivid than she would like. Flowing in and out of various decades, the songs are variously timely (the faux-’70s-pop “Raincoat of Love”) and timeless (“Telephone Wire,” Bechdel’s recollection of her last moments with her father), all of them beautifully supported by John Clancy’s subtle, elegant orchestrations. Fun Home is a powerful piece that’s given a full, beautiful treatment on the cast recording, thanks to a generous amount of included dialogue. As the doomed father, Bruce, Tony Award winner Michael Cerveris is terrifying and pitiful. Judy Kuhn, as his long suffering wife, Helen, is beautifully restrained in “Days and Days,” a reminiscence of her misused life. Emily Skeggs is adorably awkward as Alison in her college years; but youngster Sydney Lucas, who plays Allison as a child, is the show’s secret weapon. Shedding the stereotype that shadows most child actors, Lucas is mature and strong and in complete control of her performance. Her rendition of “Ring of Keys,” in which a young Alison observes a masculine delivery woman in a diner and experiences her first moment of self-recognition in another person, is the ultimate highlight of the show. That song, like Fun Home as a whole, is destined to become a classic. — Matt Koplik

Los Angeles Cast, 1995 (DRG) (3 / 5) Here, Gerard Alessandrini has as much fun with Hollywood excess as with Broadway idiocy. But this recording differs from the Forbidden Broadway albums in one crucial respect: It’s live, and that’s a mistake. The audience keeps howling at sight gags listeners can’t fathom (like Dietrich’s arm falling off in “Falling Apart Again”). The satirical targets are a little strange, too; some numbers aim at movies that were new at the time (Braveheart, Pulp Fiction, Forrest Gump), but nearly half the material clobbers various aspects of decades-old film version of classic Broadway musicals — the color filters in South Pacific, Barbra Streisand’s miscasting in Hello, Dolly! That said, much of it is a riot, and Jason Graae’s impression of Brando singing is as hilarious the twentieth time as the first. Gerry McIntyre is a flawless Louis Armstrong, a funny Whoopi Goldberg, a catatonic Keanu Reeves, and more. Christine Pedi, an unparalleled Liza in several Forbidden Broadways, gets unusually rich material here (“Mein Film Career”). And Suzanne Blakeslee, as Marni Nixon dubbing Audrey Hepburn, does justice to one of the funniest pieces of material Alessandrini has ever written.  — Marc Miller

Original Cast, 1982 (DRG) (3 / 5) Gerard Alessandrini’s revues lampooning Broadway hits and personalities have been a reliable source of merriment in cabaret rooms, Off-Broadway theaters, and other venues throughout the U.S. and abroad since the early 1980s. “Wicked” is the adjective most often applied to these knowing parodies of show tunes and celebrities, but there’s usually affection at their base. More than that, Alessandrini’s a talented lyricist in his own right, particularly adept at turning a well-known lyric or show title on its head with a subtle tweak — e.g., “I Wonder What the King Is Drinking Tonight,” “Into the Words,” “Rant.” And his revues have showcased some of New York’s brightest talents, young pros with great gifts for mimicry. Of course, there’s no way to duplicate the visual components that send audiences into uncontrollable laughter, such as the hilarious costumes (often by the legendary Alvin Colt) and tiny sets spoofing enormous ones. Since the FB cast recordings are essentially comedy albums and repeated listening can diminish the jokes, they may linger on your CD shelves for long intervals, but they’re fun to revisit as a reminder of the ridiculous foibles of a given season. This first Forbidden Broadway album is one of the best, though by far the shortest at 40 minutes. Alessandrini usually writes one entirely original title song for each edition of the show, and there’s a particularly apt one here, with lyrics such as: “There’s a Great White Way / Where the white is gray / And the great is only okay.” The writer himself is also in the cast, doing a killer Topol in “Ambition.” The invaluable Nora Mae Lyng is a brassy Ann Miller and a brassier Ethel Merman, future indie-film star Chloe Webb a pert Andrea McArdle, and Bill Carmichael a funny emcee announcing, “Hats off, here they come, those . . . bankable stars.” As always, the one-piano accompaniment (here by musical director Fred Barton) manages to sound like a whole orchestra. Subsequent FB albums are more complete and more nastily funny, but this one has a hottest-new-show-in-town oomph. It also has that great Merrily We Roll Along parody poster art on its cover.– Marc Miller

Forbidden Broadway: Volume 2 — Compilation Album, 1991 (DRG) (3 / 5) For the best stuff in this compilation of Forbidden Broadway material from 1985 to 1991, check out Toni DiBuono capturing Patti LuPone down to the last self-indulgent nuance (“I Get a Kick Out of Me”), an ingenious My Fair Lady parody (“I Strain in Vain to Train Madonna’s Brain”) inspired by Madonna’s Broadway stint in Speed the Plow, Kevin Ligon as an amazing Mandy Patinkin (“Somewhat Overindulgent”), and one of the most famous and popular sequences in Forbidden Broadway history: the epic spoof of Les Misérables (“At the end of the play, you’re another year older.”) There are also winning performances by Michael McGrath and Karen Murphy. Not all of the tracks are for everybody; you have to have seen the original M. Butterfly, for instance, to appreciate the satiric puzzlement over its success. A backhanded salute to The Phantom of the Opera is a bit compromised because Andrew Lloyd Webber wouldn’t allow his music to be used without alteration, but the righteous indignation expressed over a relatively fallow era in Broadway musical history makes for a very entertaining hour-plus of listening. — M.M.

Forbidden Broadway: Volume 3, 1993 (DRG) (2 / 5) This third edition’s opening number is weak, a CD-only appearance by Carol Channing and a stageful of imitators. But some first-class stuff follows: devastating slaps at Petula Clark and David Cassidy in Blood Brothers, Suzanne Blakeslee’s astonishing evocation of Julie Andrews, and Craig Wells’ hilarious put-down of Michael Crawford. On the whole, however, that season’s shows weren’t as ripe for parody as those of other seasons. Dustin Hoffman as Shylock filtered through Rain Man doesn’t hold up, and Topol’s stodginess in Fiddler was old news even in ’93; so was Robert Goulet’s Vegas slickness. Still, the intermittent pleasures keep coming, including quick riffs on the scenery chewing of Nathan Lane and Faith Prince in Guys and Dolls, a knockdown punch at Liliane Montevecchi, and an efficient torching of Miss Saigon.  — M.M.

Forbidden Broadway Strikes Back!, 1996 (DRG) (4 / 5) A luxurious 73 minutes of what might be Gerard Alessandrini’s most consistent bouquet of parodies, this edition benefits from top-flight talent. The opening number (“Parody Tonight”) serves up Tom Plotkin’s expert Nathan Lane, Christine Pedi’s gurgling Liza, Donna English’s sneering Zoe Caldwell, and Bryan Batt’s vapid John Davidson in State Fair beaming through “Oh, What a Beautiful Moron!” It’s an auspicious start, and the recording seldom flags from there. There are digs at Harold Prince’s enormous Show Boat, the failed promise of Big, and casting prospects for the upcoming Kiss Me, Kate revival (Pedi’s Bernadette Peters and Batt’s Mandy Patinkin duet in “So Miscast”). English does the best Julie Andrews you’ve ever heard in an extended pummeling of Victor/Victoria (with the Tony nominating committee warbling, “Victor/Victoria, we will ignore-ee-ya”), and a brilliant parody of Rent encapsulates the frustrations of that show’s dissenters. Even the arrangements are funny; listen to the Sondheimisms in the King and I send-up. The album is a hoot, and there’s a terrific bonus track: English as Julie again, in a parody of Star! that’s truly hilarious.  — M.M.

Forbidden Broadway 2001: A Spoof Odyssey, 2000 (DRG) (3 / 5) This edition averages out slightly below the series’ general level of inspiration. The first few tracks evaporate, and we don’t get a direct hit until the disembowelment of The Music Man, featuring a very funny Danny Gurwin. Other choice bits: a number that deals with Disney’s downsizing of Beauty and the Beast; Christine Pedi’s slaughtering of Liza Minnelli, not to mention her uncanny turns as Patti LuPone and Gwen Verdon; and an extended riff on Aida that will tickle even those unfamiliar with the show. Alessandrini’s take on Cheryl Ladd in Annie Get Your Gun (“I’ve No Business in Show Business”) epitomizes his art, and Tony Nation’s spoof of James Carpinello in Saturday Night Fever (“Stayin’ Away”) is a deft shot at an easy target, but the digs at Sondheim and Streisand don’t land as smoothly as usual. The album sends customers out on a high note with “76 Hit Shows,” but there wasn’t much to celebrate on Broadway in 2000, so it seems disingenuous to pretend that there was.  — M.M.

20th Anniversary Edition — Compilation Album, 2000 (DRG) (4 / 5) If you’re not a Forbidden Broadway completist but want to know what all the fuss is about, this compilation, featuring eight previously unreleased tracks, is just the thing. Both the strengths and occasional weaknesses of the format come through ringingly, and the prodigiously talented cast offers more variety than a single-edition album would. Not all the spoofs are top-drawer; that Carol Channing parody really should be retired. What a pleasure, though, to re-encounter Christine Pedi’s flawless invocations of Liza and Stritch, Toni DiBuono’s uncanny Patti LuPone, and Alessandrini’s particular distaste for Broadway Disneyfication. Among the bonus tracks are some of his very best vignettes, such as Terri White’s glorious “Screamgirls” and the total demolition of Aspects of Love (“Love Changes Everything” becomes “I Sleep With Everyone”). Note how the various musical directors/accompanists throughout the history of Forbidden Broadway express entire orchestrations with one piano. Note also how they exaggerate cast album affectations — languorous tempi for Les Miz, the heavy bass tread of a Rodgers 4/4 tempo–to great effect.  — M.M.

Forbidden Broadway Goes to Rehab, 2009 (DRG) (3 / 5) This wasn’t one of the more thrilling Broadway seasons to spoof, but Alessandrini did a workmanlike job of finding targets, and in some cases, much better than workmanlike. Gina Kreiezmar doesn’t sound a great deal like Ashley Brown, but her “Feed the Burbs,” mocking Mary Poppins, is Alessandrini’s most concise and hilarious skewering of the Disneyfication of Broadway. Christina Bianco’s  vocally challenged Bernadette Peters, in “See Me on a Monday” (one of several bonus tracks), is mean in a very funny way. Some straight-play parodies, of August: Osage County and Daniel Radcliffe in Equus (with James Donegan as Radcliffe), get the job done. Michael West is a delectably overblown James Barbour in a Tale of Two Cities spoof, and a number in which Kreiezmar as Patti LuPone taunts West as Boyd Gaines with “Small Part, Isn’t It?” is deftly done.  — M.M.

Original Broadway Cast, 1962 (Capitol/Angel) (4 / 5)  Except for the “House of Marcus Lycus” sequence and the courtesans’ dances, every important piece of music in this playful, skillful Stephen Sondheim score is included here, along with just enough dialogue to allow the listener to appreciate the songs in context. The album captures the indelible performances of the great clowns Zero Mostel, Jack Gilford, David Burns, and their fellow low-vaudevillians. Brian Davies and Preshy Marker imbue the romantic couple Hero and Philia with sweetness, although the recording misses the daffy humor that they brought to these roles onstage. As the stentorian Domina, Ruth Kobart finally explodes in “That Dirry Old Man” and makes it clear why she received a Tony Award nomination for her performance. The album is dominated by Mostel in “Comedy Tonight,” “Free,” and other gems, but almost all of the principals have their shining moments, especially Ron Holgate as a hilarious Miles Gloriosus in “Bring Me My Bride.” The visual gags that convulsed audiences cannot be found here, of course, but this delightful recording will give your imagination a prod. Listening to “Everybody Ought to Have a Maid,” you can almost picture Messrs. Mostel, Gilford, Burns, and David Carradine ambling across the stage of the Alvin Theater. — Jeffrey Dunn

Original London Cast, 1963 (HMV/Angel) (2 / 5) Typical of many London cast recordings, this one includes more dialogue than the Broadway album. Frankie Howerd stars as Pseudolus, leading a … Forum cast made up of Britain’s comic hierarchy under the direction of the great George Abbott. The original orchestrations by Sid Ramin and Irwin Kostal are conducted by Alyn Ainsworth, and the sound quality here is excellent throughout. “Comedy Tonight” is almost complete (only the introduction of the Proteans is missing), and there are full dialogue lead-ins to “Free,” “Lovely,” “Pretty Little Picture,” “Bring Me My Bride,” “That’ll Show Him,” the “Lovely” reprise, and “The Funeral Sequence.” But how do the London cast members stack up against their Broadway counterparts? Well, these actors seem reserved in their approach to the high art of low comedy. Also, Howerd often misses the mark as a singer. The others are reasonably musical, but they lack comic impact. As Philia, Isla Blair has a thin voice that is tremulous and colorless in “That’ll Show Him.” Hero is played by John Rye with a mature baritone voice that sounds much more well suited to Miles Gloriosus; that part is sung by Leon Greene with comic credibility, but without the stentorian tones required. Linda Gray’s adequate “That Dirty Old Man” is totally outclassed by Ruth Kobart’s rendition on the Broadway album. While this disc wins points for completeness, it loses points for its several lackluster performances. — J.D.

Film Soundtrack, 1966 (United Artists) No stars; not recommended. The film version of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum was directed by Richard Lester in a manic style that made the songs virtually superfluous. This very funny film deleted any song that did not have overt comedic value. Those that remain are “Comedy Tonight,” “Lovely” (both versions), “Everybody Ought to Have A Maid,” “Bring Me My Bride,” and “The Funeral Sequence” (listed here as “The Dirge”). The rest of the recording consists of music by Ken Thorne, who only utilizes Sondheim’s themes in two selections. Zero Mostel (Pseudolus) and Jack Gilford (Hysterium) recreated their Broadway roles, and Leon Greene (Miles) his London role; they make solid contributions. It’s also of interest to hear a young Michael Crawford as Hero singing “Lovely.” Still, this disc is only for collectors who feel they need to have every single Sondheim recording. — J.D.

Broadway Cast, 1996 (Angel) (3 / 5) This revival (revisal?) of …Forum offered new orchestrations by Jonathan Tunick, plus quite a few new lyrics by Sondheim, and other musical changes that were integral to the production. The entire “House of Marcus Lycus” sequence (not on the original cast album) is included and, while much of the dance music for the courtesans is new, the song itself has been preserved, performed by the always funny Ernie Sabella with musical assists from the ladies and connecting dialogue by Pseudolus (Nathan Lane) and Hero (Jim Stanek). Lane was the raison d’etre for this production; it was inevitable that he and the role of Pseudolus would eventually meet. The actor does not disappoint, making good on the character’s promise to “employ every device we know in our desire to divert you.” (He even recorded the tongue-twisting “Pretty Little Picture,” which was not actually performed in this production.) Conductor Edward Strauss keeps everything surging forward, allowing us just enough time to savor the details of words and music before hurtling ahead. The supporting cast is variable: Stanek and Jessica Boevers as Philia are on the dull side (the humor of their characters is hard to capture on a recording), but their singing is lovely. Although the shoes of Jack Gilford and David Burns are hard to fill, Mark Linn-Baker (Hysterium) and Lewis J. Stadlen (Senex) do their best. Cris Groenendaal’s Miles Gloriosus isn’t as funny as Ron Holgate’s original, but Mary Testa puts her own stamp on the role of Domina and delivers a smashing “That Dirty Old Man.” This is a highly enjoyable, energetic recording of a classic musical farce. — J.D.

New York and London Casts, 1927 and 1928 (Columbia, etc./Hallmark) (3 / 5) Purists who require the Gershwins’ Funny Face untainted by songs written by others have no choice but to brave these primitive recordings made by cast members of the original New York and London productions of 1927-28. The performances are pure gold from an archival standpoint. They offer the rare chance to hear Fred Astaire singing while he was still in his twenties, and there are also two priceless duets with his sister, Adele: “Funny Face” and “The Babbitt and the Bromide.” Two Arden-Ohman piano medleys serve as a prologue and entr’acte, and we have George Gershwin himself playing “My One and Only,” which Fred croons and taps on a separate track. Adele and Bernard Clifton get the love songs “He Loves and She Loves” and “‘S Wonderful.” Comedy is here too, as Leslie Henson performs “Tell the Doc.” If one can get past the imperfect sound and travel back to another era of performance style, there’s much pleasure to be found in this collection. — Morgan Sills

Film Soundtrack, 1956 (Verve) (5 / 5) One of the most fashionable films ever made is the classic Funny Face starring Fred Astaire, Audrey Hepburn, and Kay Thompson. Highlights from the score of the Gershwin brothers’ Broadway musical of the 1920s, in which Astaire had starred three decades earlier, are inserted into a new plot and augmented with a trio of up-tempo numbers by composer-producer Roger Edens and lyricist-screenwriter Leonard Gershe. We know that this is a terrific recording as soon as Astaire’s unmistakable voice launches into the title tune on the first track. Not much later, Thompson socks out the Edens-Gershe showstopper “Think Pink.” Hepburn offers a deeply felt, subtle reading of”How Long Has This Been Going On?” Astaire’s ballad “He Loves and She Loves” is given an equally uncluttered and sincere rendition. The soundtrack album also boasts some delightful duets: Thompson and Astaire’s “Clap Yo’ Hands” and Thompson and Hepburn’s “On How to Be Lovely.” Especially apparent without the film’s visuals to distract the eye is the brilliance of the writing/arranging in the star trio’s extended musical sequence “Bonjour Paris.” The songs have been fitted with perfect orchestrations by Alexander Courage, Conrad Salinger, Van Cleave, and Skip Martin, and the entire performance is crisply conducted by Adolph Deutsch. In the words of Ira Gershwin as heard in the recording’s final track, “‘S Wonderful! ‘S Marvelous!” — M.S.

Original Broadway Cast, 2000 (BMG) (4 / 5) A great pleasure of experiencing this show live was seeing how well Terrence McNally’s script melded with show-tune novice David Yazbek’s music and lyrics. Based on a hit film from England, The Full Monty concerns a group of unemployed guys who resort to stripping in a club to earn some dough. The property really needed a contemporary voice to make it believable as a musical — and, in Yazbek, that’s what it got. The pop-tinged songs sound effortless, the lyrics as natural as dialogue coming from the mouths of these working-class men and the women in their lives. Modern though the music sounds, Yazbek writes marvelously well along traditional musical theater lines, from the comically confessional “Scrap” (that’s what these laid-off steel workers feel like) to “Jeanette’s Showbiz Number,” sung with world-weary pizzazz by the great Kathleen Freeman. Irreverence abounds in André De Shields’s “Big Black Man” and in the show’s shining gem, “Big Ass Rock,” in which antihero Jerry (Patrick Wilson) and best-buddy Dave (John Ellison Conlee) use darkly humorous reverse psychology to talk a fellow worker and soon-to-be fellow stripper out of committing suicide. The show also has its poignant moments in “You Walk With Me” and “Breeze Off the River.” While the songs don’t pack the same punch here as they do onstage, this is still a great score to enjoy on recording. — Brooke Pierce

Studio Cast, 2001 (Nonesuch) (4 / 5) Based on a play by Aristophanes, The Frogs was written by Stephen Sondheim and Burt Shevelove to be performed by the Yale Repertory Theatre in the university’s swimming pool. It had a one-week run in 1974, with an ensemble that included three Yale School of Drama students who would be heard from again: Meryl Streep, Sigourney Weaver, and Christopher Durang. The show harkens back to the Sondheim-Shevelove-Larry Gelbart musical A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum in that both were freely based on ancient comic classics. This excellent recording of the brief score of The Frogs benefits from the luxury casting of Nathan Lane as the god Dionysos (“an aging juvenile of great charm”) and Brian Stokes Mitchell as his slave, Xanthias. The comic chemistry between these two is terrific, never more so than in the droll “Prologos: Invocation and Instructions to the Audience.” Dionysus begs the assembled theatergoers, “Please don’t cough / It tends to throw the actors off,” going on to make further requests: “Please refrain / From candy wrapped in cellophane,” and “Please, don’t fart — there’s very little air and this is art.” In the equally funny title song, the chorus alternates between froggy noises and witty self-assessment (“Frogs! / We’re the frogs / The adorable frogs! / Not your hoity-toity intellectuals / Not your hippy-dippy homosexuals”). A highlight of this world-premiere recording comes when Shakespeare shows up in the person of Davis Gaines to sing the beautiful ballad “Fear No More” — with a text by the Bard himself, from Cymbeline.  The American Theatre Orchestra plays lovingly and excitingly under Paul Gemignani, and the state-of-the-art sound quality of the album is superb, the better to enjoy one of Sondheim’s shortest scores but also one of his freshest and most delightful.  — Michael Portantiere

Original Broadway Cast, 2004 (PS Classics) (4 / 5) A new version of The Frogs was presented by Lincoln Center Theater at the  Vivian Beaumont in 2004 for a limited, three-month run, but the lack of an extension or commercial transfer for the production should not be taken as a measure of its quality, as there’s much to savor here. Nathan Lane starred in the show as Dionysos, bringing the full force of his presence and talents to a role he had previously recorded a few years earlier (see review above). One of Broadway’s biggest stars for the past several decades, but not previously known as a writer, Lane became so enamored of the Sondheim/Shevelove adaptation of Aristophanes’ play that he himself collaborated with Sondheim in crafting an extensively revised and expanded version; the full credits for the text and score of this production read, “A comedy written in 405 b.c. by Aristophanes; “The Frogs” freely adapted by Burt Shevelove; “The Frogs” even more freely adapted by Nathan Lane; music by Stephen Sondheim; lyrics by Stephen Sondheim; lyrics for “Fear No More” from Cymbeline by William Shakespeare.” Lane and Sondheim perhaps overwrote a bit in reworking the piece, but the great news here is that Sondheim composed some excellent new songs to augment the 1974 score. Arguably the best of them all is “I Love to Travel,” a number with a wonderfully old-time showbiz, almost vaudevillian feel to it, for Dionysos, Xanthias (a perfectly cast Roger Bart) and the Greek Chorus. In another style entirely, “Ariadne” is a lovely, elegiac new ballad for Dionysos about his deceased wife, affectingly rendered by Lane. PS Classics’ cast album of the show would be worth purchasing if only for those two items, but there are many other pleasures to be had in the performances of the new songs and those carried over from the original score, courtesy of Jonathan Tunick’s orchestrations, Paul Gemignani’s musical direction, and a strong cast that also includes Burke Moses as Herakles, John Byner as Charon/Aekos, Peter Bartlett as Pluto, and Daniel Davis as George Bernard Shaw. Finally, although Michael Siberry is nowhere near as vocally gifted as Davis Gaines, he does a more satisfying job with “Fear No More” in that his performance sounds simpler and fresher.   — M.P.