Original Broadway Cast, 1961 (RCA) (4 / 5) George S. Kaufman said that “satire is what closes on Saturday night,” but that certainly did not apply to How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. In its original Broadway run, the show saw three-and-a-half-years’ worth of Saturday nights. With an incisive book by Abe Burrows, Jack Weinstock, and Willie Gilbert, this is a musical comedy that’s truly funny — and it’s got a great Frank Loesser score, from the mock-romantic “Happy to Keep His Dinner Warm” and the intentionally syrupy “Love From a Heart of Gold” to the caffeine-inspired “Coffee Break.” Other highlights are the business-rule numbers “The Company Way” and “A Secretary Is Not a Toy.” Judging by this recording, the original cast was energetic, but star Robert Morse is an acquired taste — and there’s a lot of him here. Although he has the right kind of youthful ebullience for go-getter J. Pierrepont Finch, his singing is best described as “characterful” rather than good. Morse’s leading lady, Bonnie Scott, tends to bray Rosemary’s songs. Charles Nelson Reilly as Finch’s rival, Bud Frump, and Rudy Vallee as company president J. B. Biggley come across much better, as do Sammy Smith and Virginia Martin in their supporting roles. Overall, How to Succeed… succeeds nicely. — Matthew Murray

Original London Cast, 1963 (RCA) (4 / 5) Out of print for decades, this recording is worth seeking out as a delightful addendum to the original Broadway cast album. Happily, a few minor slips notwithstanding, the members of the cast who are actually British manage to sound convincingly American here — a vital point, as this satirical tale of brash go-getters doing their thing in the dog-eat-dog business world of Manhattan circa the early 1960s would seem off kilter with clipped English accents. That said, the two male leads,  Warren Berlinger as Finch and Billy De Wolfe as J.B. Biggley, are in fact American, and both give performances worthy of comparison to their predecessors in these roles. Berlinger’s singing is about as good as Robert Morse’s, and his characterization is pretty much equal in terms of charm and skillfully understated comic finesse. No one would contend that De Wolfe’s voice is as rich as that of Rudy Vallee, but since Biggley’s songs require more in terms of personality than sheer vocal quality (which is the case with most of this score), De Wolfe is terrific in the role. As for the rest of the cast, it’s a safe bet that most listeners will find Patricia Michael’s sound far more pleasing than Bonnie Scott’s in Rosemary’s songs, and both David Knight and Josephine Blake are right on point as Frump and Smitty. This recording is so rare that I have only been able to track it down and hear it in mono, but with that qualification, the sound quality is excellent overall, as is the musical direction and the work of the ensemble. Some interesting trivia: “The Company Way” is performed here by Berlinger and Bernard Spear (as Twimble) in a higher key than the original, and several of the lyrics in other songs have been cleverly rewritten to remove certain references (to F.A.O. Schwartz, Bergdorf-Goodman, Lionel toy trains, the 21 Club, Tarrytown, etc.) that presumably would have been unfamiliar to London audiences. Funnily enough, the “work/clerk” rhyme in “Been a Long Day” remains, despite the fact that those two words don’t rhyme as Brits pronounce them 🙂 — Michael Portantiere

Film Soundtrack, 1967 (United Artists/MGM) (2 / 5) Several of the original Broadway cast members appear in the film version of How to Succeed…, and Rosemary is played by Michele Lee, who was a replacement in the role on Broadway and on tour. She does a much better job with the songs than Bonnie Scott, sounding warmer and far more natural. However, she doesn’t have many songs: “Happy to Keep His Dinner Warm” and “Paris Original” were both excised from the stage score for the movie. Lee does perform a solo version of “I Believe in You,” but is otherwise heard only in the trio “Been a Long Day.” Robert Morse, Rudy Vallee, Sammy Smith, and Ruth Kobart (as J. B. Biggley’s executive secretary) from the Broadway cast all sound good here, so does John Myhers as Mr. Bratt in “A Secretary is Not a Toy,” and although Anthony Teague doesn’t have Charles Nelson Reilly’s nervous energy, he’s fine as Frump. The “Coffee Break” number may be heard on this soundtrack album but is not in the movie, having been filmed but cut from it. While the incompleteness of this recording diminishes its appeal, avid Frank Loesser fans may value it. — M.M.

Broadway Cast, 1995 (RCA) (2 / 5) This is a very full recording. In addition to the show’s voice-over passages (spoken by Walter Cronkite!), it includes some incidental music, a number of reprises, and even the Pirate Dance. The album boasts new orchestrations by Danny Troob that are even brassier than the originals, a reworked “Brotherhood of Man” with a lot of scatting from Lillias White as Miss Jones, and a new second-act opener. There’s also a reprise of the title song (with new lyrics written by the production’s director, Des McAnuff) in place of the cut “Cinderella, Darling.”  If these changes aren’t really improvements, neither are they significant detriments. Megan Mullally is an ideal Rosemary, and Victoria Clark provides a very well sung Smitty. Jeff Blumenkrantz is Frump; other roles are well done by Ronn Carroll, Gerry Vichi, and Jonathan Freeman. Luba Mason’s Hedy is a bit too vacant, though she makes quite a vocal effect when she slides up a full octave at the end of “Love From a Heart of Gold.” But then there’s Matthew Broderick, singing and acting in the same constipated style that he would later bring to The Producers and  other shows. While he hits all the right notes in Finch’s songs and only sounds strained a couple of times, he never sounds real. — M.M.

Broadway Cast, 2011 (Decca) (2 / 5) The first 21st-century Broadway revival (sorry, “revisal”) of How to Succeed was done in by the direction of Rob Ashford, who somehow managed to remove most of the humor from this sharply satirical show and left his cast adrift to fend for themselves — including Daniel Radcliffe, for whom the central star role of J. Pierrepont Finch might have been a perfect fit if he had had a competent director to guide him. But this is one of those not infrequent cases where the cast album is far more pleasurable on its own terms than the production itself. Because we don’t have to endure Ashford’s dimming of the comedy in the show’s dialogue, nor need we experience his deplorable staging and choreography, sometimes overloaded and sometimes inadequate or non existent (such as his having left Radcliffe to stand on stage doing literally nothing during each and every one of those little orchestral interludes in “I Believe in You”), we’re free to enjoy what this production had to offer in terms of musical values. Radcliffe’s singing voice is clear, strong, youthful, and pleasant, his American accent is flawless, and the charm he exhibited in all those Harry Potter films is intact, so his performance here is highly effective, regardless of what it lacked on stage. On the minus side, listeners may wish that John Larroquette had a bit more of a singing voice to bring to Biggley’s musical moments. Standouts in other roles are Rose Hemingway as Rosemary, Tammy Blanchard as Hedy La Rue, and Rob Bartlett as Twimble/Womper, but one’s enjoyment (or not) of this recording may depend largely on how one feels about the aggressive rearrangements and re-orchestrations of the score by David Chase and Doug Besterman. — M.P.

Original Broadway Cast, 1968 (RCA) (3 / 5) The story of a misfit who, rather than committing suicide, decides to try his hand at selling stock, this show made audiences laugh for one season and is hardly remembered today. But the cast album reveals what a creative collaboration the prolific film composer Elmer Bernstein had with the devilishly clever lyricist Carolyn Leigh. How Now, DowJones begins with a clever explanation of the workings of Wall Street (“ABC”), then deals with various characters’ romantic problems. The talented belter Marlyn Mason and the wonderfully zany Brenda Vaccaro raise their voices in “They Don’t Make ‘Em Like That Anymore.” After spending the night with the suicidal Charley (Tony Roberts), Mason’s character sings the excellent ballad “Walk Away.” Charley decides not to jump out of a window when some Wall Streeters tell him that all he must do to succeed is “Gawk, Tousle and Shucks.” He goes off to sell stocks to widows, which leads to the show-stopping ensemble march “Step to the Rear.” Also among the score’s highlights are “Rich Is Better,” “Shakespeare Lied,” and “He’s Here.” — Jeffrey Dunn

Original Off-Broadway Cast, 1995 (RCA) (3 / 5) This show was the brainchild of costume designer Howard Crabtree, whose outlandishly funny costumes were the real stars of the production—each outfit more elaborate than the last, yet all looking as if they cost pennies to build. Throughout, Crabtree (playing himself) is heckled by Jay Rogers, who questions his taste and preaches that “less is more.” This gives the revue a sort of structure and also a good finish: Howard uses “Less Is More” as a finale that belies its title, going on and on and on. The songs include one about the much-married Elizabeth Taylor, one featuring the Invisible Dance Company (“They’re the biggest no-talents I’ve never seen,” complains Rogers; “I can see right through them!”), and one about Sgt. Sirloin and his corps of patriotic potatoes being shaken by the arrival of Private Banana (“The new recruit is a fruit!”). There’s also a mini-musical about Nancy Reagan’s life, and a number called “You Are My Idol,” in which an airplane accidentally drops a crate of cast albums on a tribe of primitives who assume it’s an offering from the gods and begin worshiping/imitating Ethel Merman, Carol Channing, and Rex Harrison. The sensibility throughout is matter-of-factly gay, although not so much as to make straight folks uncomfortable. The material was mostly written by Mark Waldrop and Dick Gallagher, but there are also contributions by David Rambo, Peter Morris, Brad Ellis, Eric Schorr, Bruce Sussman, and Jack Feldman.  — David Wolf

Original Broadway Cast, 1954 (Columbia/Sony) (5 / 5) The cast album of Harold Arlen and Truman Capote’s flop musical set in a West Indian bordello is stunning and unique; the steel drums and whistles of the overture announce a 1950s musical with a sound like no other. The opening number, for the girls of the house, promises an unusual frankness for the era, and Capote’s lyrics (“Drowsin’, dreamin,’ moonbeamin’ / ’bout the thing we’re supreme in”) are amazing for a beginner. Pearl Bailey, owning the show as Madame Fleur, throws her weight around in “One Man Ain’t Quite Enough” and caps the number with an outrageous ad lib that passed instantly into cast-album legend. A teenage Diahann Carroll, nursing a cold for the recording session, nonetheless oozes charm and unselfconscious allure in “A Sleepin’ Bee.” And that’s just the first 15 minutes! (More oddball cast album history is made later, when Carroll’s voice gives out near the end of “I Never Has Seen Snow” and Arlen has to dub a high note for her.) It’s a spellbinding score with quirky orchestrations by Ted Royal, thrillingly conducted by Jerry Arlen. For the 2003 CD reissue of this treasured recording, Columbia/Sony remastered everything and made the audio crisper; put the songs in their stage order; found a longer, more sumptuous take of “Mardi Gras”; let the tape run a few seconds longer on “Wait’in'”; and inserted a “Mardi Gras Waltz” from a Percy Faith album. There are other bonus tracks — a single of “Two Ladies in de Shade of de Banana Tree” by cast member Enid Mosier, a tape of Arlen’s first draft of “A Sleepin’ Bee,” and Capote reading an excerpt from his source-material short story — plus a booklet that contains some photos from the gorgeous original production. The cumulative effect is compelling. For a half-century, people have heard this amazing score and wondered why such a show failed. We’re lucky, at least, that House of Flowers yielded one of the great cast albums. — Marc Miller

Off-Broadway Cast, 1968 (United Artists/Kritzerland) (1 / 5) Original producer Saint Subber unwisely ordered a major rewrite of House of Flowers for a new, scaled-down Off-Broadway production that yielded this cast album in shrill stereo. Here, the islanders appear more willfully ignorant than disarmingly unworldly. Some great songs (“One Man Ain’t Quite Enough,” “Genna Leave Off Wearin’ My Shoes”) are missing, some lackluster new ones (not entirely by Harold Arlen and Truman Capote) are inserted, and the modest calypso-band arrangements sound like toy whistles next to Ted Royal’s great originals. The musical director, Joe Raposo, plays it so safe that it sounds like he’s warming up for Sesame Street. It’s not the cast’s fault: Yolande Bavan is a charming Ottilie, Thelma Oliver and Hope Clarke are lusty sidekicks, and Novella Nelson gamely grunts out something called “Madame Tango’s Particular Tango.” Replacing Pearl Bailey as Madame Fleur, Josephine Premice is deprived of some of the character’s best material; “Don’t Like Goodbyes,’ which was evidently written for Ottilie and swiped by Bailey, is here restored to its rightful owner. Premice’s unidentifiable accent and inimitable, scratchy singing are ingratiating, but the squirm-inducing moments in this wilted Flowers far outweigh the soul-satisfying ones. If there’s an object lesson in how to ruin a classic score, here it is. — M.M.

Original Off-Broadway Cast, 1994 (Boebe) (2 / 5) How much mediocre country music can you take if it’s terrifically well performed? That’s the barometer of how much you’ll enjoy this recording. Robert Nassif-Lindsey (a.k.a, Robert Lindsey Nassif and other variations on his name) wrote a series of old-style country-western songsfor this “mountain musical.” Richard Berg is credited as librettist, with Nassif-Lindsey listed as having provided “additional dialogue,” but the album gives no hint of a plot. As for the songs themselves: “Follow Where the Music Goes” is reasonably catchy; “Baby, I Love Your Biscuits” is sort of fun; and “Easier to Sing Than Say” is kind of pretty. The cast of actors-singers-musicians includes a few stage notables in Sean McCourt, Erin Hill, and Matthew Bennett, alongside Rick Leon, Kevin Fox, and musical director-arranger-performer Steve Steiner. Rich Blacker and Andy Taylor are heard in a few tracks as extra instrumentalists, with Nassif-Lindsey occasionally popping up on piano a few times. The score of Honky-Tonk Highway sounds very different from the composer-lyricist’s work on two other musicals, 3hree and Opal, so this recording is certainly a testament to his range. — Seth Christenfeld

Original Broadway Cast, 1947 (RCA/Sepia) (3 / 5) The 24-minute cast album of High Button Shoes contains only eight of the score’s 14 songs; that’s all that could fit on both sides of four 78-rpm records. Two of the show’s numbers became very popular: the soft-shoe “I Still Get Jealous” and the polka “Papa, Won’t You Dance With Me,” both duets for Nanette Fabray and the now-forgotten Jack McCauley. But these songs have pretty much faded from memory. They and the score as a whole, with music by Jule Styne (his first Broadway hit) and lyrics by Sammy Cahn (his only Broadway hit), are as old-fashioned as the show’s title. The secondary lovers get two very arch love ballads, and McCauley sings lead in a nice, swirling waltz. The other three songs feature Phil Silvers. He plays (what else?) a lovable con man who’s fixing a football game in “Nobody Died for Dear Old Rutgers,” giving a family a new car (because he traded them out of their valuable land) in “There’s Nothing Like a Model T,” and extolling the charms of the beach (because he’s managed to escape the law) in “On a Sunday by the Sea.” That beach is the setting for the still-talked-about, much-praised “Mack Sennett Ballet” choreographed by Jerome Robbins. Alas, the music for it is not on this disc, but that’s what the cast album of Jerome Robbins’ Broadway is for. (Note: RCA’s CD transfer of High Button Shoes was only briefly available and is long out of print, but all of the tracks from the album are now available on a single Sepia CD, paired with the original cast recording of Seventeen.) — Peter Filichia

Original Scarborough Cast, 1998 (Dress Circle) (3 / 5) Welcome to the duck yard, “Where life is nice and steady / Till we’re plucked and oven-ready” and where Ida, a young mom, hatches an egg containing a distinctly odd duck. He is, in fact, the Ugly Duckling. Welcome also to the English songwriting team of George Stiles (music) and Anthony Drewe (lyrics), whose charming adaptation of the Hans Christian Andersen tale was one of the most interesting British musical theater pieces in years. (The show caused a stir in 2000, when it took the Olivier Award for Best Musical over The Lion King.) Honk! follows the Ugly Duckling as he grows up scorned, wanders away, is menaced by a cat, meets a lovely swan, and undergoes various adventures before reuniting with his loved ones. The songs radiate optimism and humor; they’re clever and sophisticated without being showy. There’s also real feeling in such numbers as “Hold Your Head Up High” and “Every Tear a Mother Cries.” Other highlights include “Look at Him,” about the perils of being different, and “You Can Play With Your Food,” sung by that evil cat. The main problem here is length: There are too many songs for this slender tale to bear. The cast, from the Stephen Joseph Theatre in Scarborough, England (run by playwright Alan Ayckbourn), is appealing, especially Richard Dempsey as the Ugly Duckling and Kristin Marks as Ida. But the real stars here are Stiles and Drewe. — David Barbour

Music Theatre of Wichita Cast, 2001 (MTW) (3 / 5) In this debut American production, some of the distinctively English humor of Honk! is lost, but John Cameron’s expanded orchestrations are even more enjoyable. A solid cast puts over the material with brio: Arthur W. Marks provides touching vocals as the Ugly Duckling; Susan Hofflander is a lovely Ida; Josh Prince has a campy sneer as the Cat; and La Quin Groves, as a bullfrog, has a field day with “Warts and All,” an anthem to self-love that comes complete with children’s chorus. Some of the more whimsical numbers play better on this recording, especially “The Wild Goose Chase,” which spoofs airline-travel cliches as a flock of geese prepare for takeoff. Marks also offers a heartfelt rendition of “Now I’ve Seen You,” the Ugly Duckling’s declaration of love to a fetching female swan. It’s still an overlong and perhaps over-sophisticated children’s musical, but Honk! should be embraced by family audiences everywhere, and this cast album contains many moments of fun for all to enjoy.  — D.B.

Film Soundtrack, 1955 (MGM/TCM) (3 / 5) Hubert Osborne’s Shore Leave, a dull sailors-in-port comedy from 1924, was incessantly reincarnated: as a silent movie, a Broadway musical that was filmed twice, and another movie musical with a different score. The 1936 film was the Astaire-Rogers gem Follow the Fleet, for which Irving Berlin wrote great songs; but Vincent Youmans’ stage show Hit the Deck! came first (1927). With songs like “Hallelujah!” and “Sometimes I’m Happy” (lyrics by Clifford Grey and Leo Robin), this show doesn’t deserve complete extinction, but in the realm of sailor musicals, it ain’t On the Town. MGM’s 1955 film version is plodding — yet the Youmans score, with others of his standards tossed in, sounds fine here as performed by a large cast full of musical pros. Perhaps it was because of CinemaScope that the script was padded with three couples, all of whom get a crack at the songs:  they are played by Jane Powell and Vic Damone, Tony Martin and Ann Miller, Debbie Reynolds and Russ Tamblyn (dubbed by Rex Dennis). Also on hand is the enormous-voiced Kay Armen. Damone and Martin were singers, not actors, so there is more vocal tone than theater in their performances — though it’s certainly gorgeous tone. But there sure is plenty of theatricality in Ann Miller’s “Lady From the Bayou.” Miller also has fun with “Keepin’ Myself for You,” written by Youmans for the first (1930) film version of Hit the Deck! Powell and Reynolds are no slouches either, and the ear-popping early stereo soundtrack is given a fine TCM presentation on CD.  — Richard Barrios

Original Broadway Cast, 1964 (ABC-Paramount/MCA) (3 / 5) Noël Coward’s martini-dry farce Blithe Spirit was turned into a brassy, uptempo musical by songwriters-librettists Hugh Marrin and Timothy Gray. If the result is a bit disconcerting, it’s still a droll entertainment. (Coward himself directed.) Edward Woodward is Charles Condomine, whose experiments with spiritualism accidentally conjure the spirit of his first wife, Elvira (Tammy Grimes), much to the horror of his current spouse, Ruth (Louise Troy). Along for the ride is Beatrice Lillie as the bizarre medium Madame Arcati. The songs are generally very aggressive — Harry Zimmerman’s orchestrations are hell-bent on turning this piece of fluff into a blockbuster — yet they’re also witty and melodic. Grimes gets the choice material, including the lighthearted warning “You’d Better Love Me,” the introspective”Something Tells Me,” and the wacky jet-set spoof “Faster Than Sound.” She absolutely sizzles when describing her social life on the astral plane in “Home Sweet Heaven” (“Delilah’s dreary / But Samson’s handsome / And with his good looks / Robin Hood looks fit for ransom”). Some fans of Lillie claim that you had to see her perform to get her, but she’s fun in her recordings of “Go Into Your Trance” and “Something Is Coming to Tea,” and especially when singing sweet nothings to her Ouija board in “Talking to You.” In less flamboyant roles, Woodward and Troy are models of urbanity.  — David Barbour

Original London Cast, 1964 (Pye/DRG) (3 / 5) Coward tried again, this time without Lillie, and what was a nervous hit in New York was a flat-out flop in London. The cast album isn’t bad, but it lacks the exciting personalities of the New York original. Tammy Grimes, with her smoky voice and singular delivery, is much missed. Her replacement, Marti Stevens, does not for a moment suggest the eccentric, ectoplasmic Elvira. Cicely Courtneidge is fun as Madame Arcati, and Dennis Quilley is a really first-rate Charles,  but Jan Waters as Ruth lacks Louise Troy’s apt, world-weary manner. Still, the recording is worthwhile for several reasons: “Home Sweet Heaven” has some new, even more riotous lyrics (“The King of Prussia / I call him Freddy / Is living by mistake / With Mary Baker Eddy”), and a set of bonus tracks features Coward himself singing “Something Tells Me,” the ballads “If I Gave You” and “Forever and a Day,” and what may be the definitive version of “Home Sweet Heaven.” — D.B.

Studio Cast, 1993 (Lockett-Palmer) (1 / 5) Ervin Drake’s score for this show doesn’t actually contain terrible songs; it’s just that they’re terrible for an adaptation of George Bernard Shaw’s Caesar and Cleopatra. The title of the opening number, “What Are We Doing in Egypt?”, might well prompt us to ask: What are these songs doing in Egypt? That mismatch is probably why a quarter-century had to pass before someone made a full-fledged recording of this 1968 flop. As Caesar, Richard Kiley sings of being in “The Dangerous Age,” where he’s smitten with the sex-kitten Cleopatra, played by Leslie Uggams. Her songs include “I Cannot Make Him Jealous (I Have Tried),” with its frustrating stop-and-start melody; “Many Young Men From Now,” which sounds like a running-up-and-down-the scale vocal exercise; and, most atrociously, “The Wrong Man’s the Right Man for Me,” which calls to mind a snazzy nightclub song. Similarly, the title song is far too Jerry Hermanish for the period — not to mention that a Shaw-inspired musical should have opted for a more elegant title. Just when the listener is convinced that things could not possibly get worse, out comes the most awful item of all: “I Fell in With Evil Companions,” an anachronistic rouser that Caesar and his soldiers sing for no apparent reason. It was dropped during the Boston tryout, but it’s included here for better or worse — with an emphasis on the latter. — Peter Filichia

Original Broadway Cast, 1963 (Columbia/Sony) (2 / 5) Here is an industrial-strength musical version of the Christmas movie classic Miracle on 34th Street. Directed by its producer, Stuart Ostrow, after Norman Jewison departed during the tryout, Here’s Love was Meredith Willson’s third Broadway effort, following The Music Man and The Unsinkable Molly Brown. It was helped along to a 334-performance run by a fine cast, a healthy advance sale, and a sumptuous production that featured choreographer Michael Kidd’s re-creation of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. The album magnifies the show’s major flaw: its middling score, which will likely remind the listener of better songs from previous musicals by Willson, who wrote this show’s book, music, and lyrics. Things start off promisingly enough with “The Big Clown Balloons.” There’s also a perky title song that’s determined to blast its way into every theatergoer’s heart. But then Willson resorts to interpolating his old hit “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas,” a Yuletide chestnut and the most memorable tune on the album. Otherwise, the score consists of generic songs that could work just as well in Act I or Act II, or even be dropped into any other so-so musical. But, uninspired as the score is, at least it’s well presented here in bright orchestrations by Don Walker and dance-music arrangements by Peter Howard. Janis Paige brings considerable warmth and zest to such material as the reprise of a mediocre song titled  “Look, Little Girl.” Her pitch-approximate intonation and frequent switching of vocal registers in “My State” make for a highly individual sound, but her charisma is irresistible throughout the recording. Craig Stevens and the men gamely work to put over “She Hadda Go Back,” salvaged from what must have been the bottom drawer of Willson’s trunk. Laurence Naismith and Valerie Lee also give appealing vocal performances. — Morgan Sills

Original Broadway Cast, 1967 (ABC-ParamountlVarèse Sarabande) (2 / 5) Nora Johnson’s novel The World of Henry Orient and the subsequent film version that she wrote with her father, Nunnally, were marvelous stories of two girls enjoying and anguishing over their adolescence, but the stage musical based on the same source material was a big disappointment. That’s mostly because of Bob Merrill’s score, his first misfire after several good outings. Val (Robin Wilson) and Gil (Neva Small) have a schoolgirl crush on avant-garde pianist Henry Orient (Don Ameche), who is — to his credit! — more interested in women his own age. The ballad “In Some Little World” is melodious, and “Here I Am” is rather pretty. “I Wonder How It Is (to Dance With a Boy)” is a nice waltz that makes you hunger to see what choreographer Michael Bennett must have done with it. All this sweetness is interrupted by a Nazi-like anthem sung by Alice Playten: “Nobody Steps on Kafritz,” in which Val and Gil’s nemesis makes her position known. Eddie Sauter’s orchestrations try hard to lend some excitement to the score, but by the time you reach “Weary Near to Dyin’,” a condescending comment on hippie life, you may be shaking your head in sympathy with the song’s title. And there are still five tracks to go. — Peter Filichia

Original Broadway Cast, 1964 (RCA) (4 / 5) If one composer’s name leaps to mind when the phrase “show tune” is used, it’s probably Jerry Herman; and if one show epitomizes Herman’s work, it’s Hello, Dolly! The “Prologue” of this recording — a brief but thrilling orchestral arrangement of the monster-hit title song, created especially for the album — sets the mood. From there to the finale, it’s treat after treat, with “Put on Your Sunday Clothes” registering as one of the most exciting songs ever written for the American musical theater. There are a couple of grammatical errors in the show’s lyrics — e.g., “I have always been a woman who arranges things, for the pleasure and the profit it derives.” But this is a wonderful score, and the original cast recording is a cornerstone of many people’s collections, even if the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Charles Nelson Reilly, so delightful in the comic character role of Bud Frump in How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, is less persuasive here as the more leading-mannish Cornelius Hackl. Opposite him, Eileen Brennan sings “Ribbons Down My Back” and other songs in a stilted soprano that worked for her campy role in Little Mary Sunshine but is inappropriate for the straightforward Irene Molloy. On the plus side, David Burns is fun in what little he gets to sing as Horace Vandergelder. Of course, the main attraction here is Carol Channing’s portrayal of Dolly Gallagher Levi — a one-of-a-kind, daffy, brilliantly comic performance. The chorus members sing with energy, but in an oddly clipped fashion that sometimes makes them sound angry; however, the orchestra is terrific throughout as recorded in super-duper stereo. (Shepard Coleman is listed as musical director/vocal arranger.) Note that the songs “Motherhood” and “Elegance” were written at least in part by Bob Merrill, who pitched in when the show was in trouble out of town pre-Broadway. Included as bonus tracks on the “Broadway Deluxe Collector’s Edition” CD are two cuts each from the London cast album starring Mary Martin and the 1967 Broadway cast album starring Pearl Bailey, plus Ethel Merman’s renditions (with piano accompaniment) of two songs that were reinstated when she starred as Dolly at the end of the show’s seven-year Broadway run. There’s also an amusing interview with Carol Channing. — Michael Portantiere

Original London Cast, 1965 (RCA/ArkivMusic) (4 / 5) The “Original London Cast Recording” designation is accurate in the sense that this album does represent the cast of Hello, Dolly! as the show was first seen in London. But the company is actually that of the international touring production, headed by Mary Martin, a true legend of the American musical theater. Martin apparently declined to have her music transposed downward to accommodate a lowering of her vocal range as she aged, so there are a few less-than-lovely high notes heard here. Still, this beloved performer is so charming in Dolly Levi’s songs that these limitations don’t seem to matter much. The supporting cast is of variable quality: Garrett Lewis doesn’t really have enough voice for Cornelius, but Loring Smith is fine as Vandergelder, and Marilyn Lovell is very appealing and sings fetchingly as Irene. — M.P.

Broadway Cast, 1967 (RCA) (5 / 5) In order to rekindle interest in Hello, Dolly! three years into the show’s run, producer David Merrick brought in an all-black company headed by two iconic performers, Pearl Bailey and Cab Calloway. The exemplary cast album begins with a gorgeous, full-length overture that’s almost too symphonic for this basically light and bouncy show; like the “Prologue” of the original cast album, it was created specifically for the recording. Philip J. Lang’s revamped orchestrations are fabulous, and the performance of the title song is the best ever recorded: Bailey and the male chorus have the time of their lives as saxophones wail, trumpets blare, a banjo strums, and the xylophone player goes nuts. As Dolly, Bailey is a real pistol and very funny as required, but she’s just as strong when delivering the more emotionally weighty “Before the Parade Passes By.” Calloway makes the role of Horace Vandergelder wonderfully his own, even if he’s only heard leading the male-ensemble number “It Takes a Woman” and in the reprise duet of “Hello, Dolly!” with Bailey. Jack Crowder’s rich baritone voice isn’t exactly right for the callow Cornelius, but Crowder sings so beautifully — especially in “It Only Takes a Moment,” one of Herman’s loveliest ballads — that it would be foolish to carp. He’s superbly partnered by Emily Yancy, who brings just enough jazz/pop style to Irene’s songs to make them seem fresh without distortion. By a considerable margin, this is the finest recording of the Hello, Dolly! score. — M.P.

Film Soundtrack, 1969 (20th Century-Fox/Philips) (2 / 5) Barbra Streisand’s voice was at its zenith at the time of this recording, which may be enjoyed for the sheer pleasure of hearing her sing these songs, even if she does so in a style very different from that of her predecessors in the role of Dolly Levi. Two of her best numbers are “So Long, Dearie,” heard here in a terrific, way-up-tempo arrangement; and “Just Leave Everything to Me,” a new song that was written for the film to replace “I Put My Hand In” from the stage score. Streisand also sounds great in the title song and “Before the Parade Passes By,” although her ultra-slow delivery of the first sections of both songs will not be to everyone’s taste. Walter Matthau is no great shakes as a singer, but he does well enough  in Horace Vandergelder’s one-and-a-half numbers, and is quite funny in the part. The greatest liability of the recording is Michael Crawford’s high, thin, cartoonish voice, extremely off-putting in “Put On Your Sunday Clothes,” “It Only Takes a Moment,” and Cornelius’s other songs. Whoever dubbed the singing for Marianne McAndrew as Irene Molloy sounds lovely, if a bit bland. On a very positive note, it’s a gift to have the legendary Louis Armstrong on hand for one chorus of the title song as a memento of his hit recording from the time of the show’s opening on Broadway. The arrangements and conducting, by the well-respected Lennie Hayton and Lionel Newman, are fine for the most part. But given Streisand’s odd casting and Crawford’s extremely weird sound, this recording is far from definitive. — M.P.

Touring/Broadway Cast, 1994 (Varèse Sarabande) (1 / 5) Here’s an unfortunate cast album of a mid-’90s touring production that eventually got to Broadway. It was recorded when star Carol Channing was over 70, and she sounds even older here; this reviewer heard better singing from her several years later, so she must have been tired and/or under the weather for the recording sessions. Jay Garner is lots of fun as Vandergelder, and Michael DeVries, with his ringing tenor, is happily cast as Cornelius, but the uncontrolled belting of Florence Lacey is all wrong for Irene’s songs. The orchestra sounds relatively small and is not well recorded, with the percussion far too prominent. Skip it.  — M.P.

Broadway Cast, 2017 (Masterworks Broadway) (3 / 5) This recording does a fairly decent job of capturing what was so special about one of the biggest hit musical revivals in Broadway history. Bette Midler brings her sparkling comic personality and unique vocal inflections to the role of Dolly Gallagher Levi, but her singing voice isn’t in great shape on the recording, and when she’s required to sustain a note for more than a beat or two, her sound is often less than pleasant. (Hear, for example, the opening section of “Before the Parade Passes By.”) Another slight disappointment of the album is that Andy Einhorn conducts certain parts of the score just enough under tempo to lower the excitement level, and while the chorus sings with great beauty and lots of heart throughout, they’re recorded in an acoustic that sounds slightly recessed. On the plus side, David Hyde Pierce is a delightful Horace Vandergelder; he makes a meal of the restored song “Penny in My Pocket,” further scoring with “It Takes a Woman” and his sweet rendition of half a chorus of “Hello, Dolly!” for the finale. Gavin Creel sings so beautifully and persuasively here that he earns the “Best Cornelius on Records” award. Kate Baldwin, also blessed with a gorgeous voice, does a far better job of mixing chest and head tones in Irene Molloy’s songs than Florence Lacey did. The new orchestrations by Larry Hochman are fine, but they don’t improve on the originals by Philip J. Lang, and the new overture is lackluster. While Steven Suskin’s notes in the CD booklet are highly entertaining and filled with fascinating facts about the history of Hello, Dolly! from the show’s genesis through this revival, Suskin avoids mention of the fact that at least two of the score’s songs were written at least in part by people other than Jerry Herman while the show was being doctored out of town prior to its Broadway opening. Nor does he note that Herman settled out of court a claim that the first part of the melody of the title song was borrowed from an old ditty called “Sunflower.” Although on one level it’s understandable why this information was not included here, it’s still a significant omission in that the essay is otherwise so very thorough. — M.P.

Original Off-Broadway Cast, 1994 (RCA) (3 / 5) The emergence of the “new wave” of American theater composers might be traced back to this 1994 musical, inspired by Arthur Schnitzler’s La Ronde, about a series of sexual encounters that link 10 characters in a circle “across time and place,” to quote the CD booklet (which contains all of the show’s lyrics and some nice production photos). Written by Michael John LaChiusa and staged by Graciela Daniele, Hello Again moves through the decades of the 20th century scene by scene, beginning with a prostitute’s liaison with a soldier in the early 1900s and coming full circle when a U.S. senator meets a prostitute played by the same performer in the 1990s. LaChiusa creates some intriguing situations, as when the Young Thing character is propositioned by an older man on the Titanic, and a lonely housewife has a rendezvous with a college boy in a movie theater. Like much of LaChiusa’s work, this piece is more of an opera than a traditional musical — not in the style of singing, but in how the music winds in and out of the dialogue, occasionally punctuated by a brief chorus number or solo. Although some of the sequences are more interesting as dramatic scenes than as songs, there’s some marvelous stuff here: a World War Il-era vignette of a soldier having a last fling before shipping out; the housewife’s tale of meeting a stranger called “Tom”; the Young Thing’s plaintive paean to “The One I Love” following a one-night stand; and the senator’s dream of finding real love in “The Bed Was Not My Own.” The cast is impressive: Donna Murphy, Carolee Carmello, John Dossett, Michele Pawk, Judy Blazer, John Cameron Mitchell, and Malcolm Gets each have at least one great song in which they demonstrate why they’ve become musical theater stalwarts. — Brooke Pierce

Original Off-Broadway Cast, 1998 (Atlantic) (3 / 5) Here is a rock-music performance piece about an East German transsexual who submits to the knife out of love for an American serviceman and then escapes to Kansas, where s/he launches a pimply, self-hating teenager as an arena-rock sensation, only to be left abandoned and bitter. This, umm, unique storyline is shot through with crackpot philosophical ruminations about the nature of love, male and female identities, and the fall of the Berlin Wall. Hedwig is a terrific piece of work, by turns scathing, campy, and soulful. John Cameron Mitchell, who wrote the script, is indelible in the title role; it’s astonishing how the listener can come to understand and sympathize with the character and his/her outlandish problems. At least three of Steven Trask’s songs — “Wig in a Box,” “Wicked Little Town,” and the gritty, downbeat “The Long Grift” — are minor classics. This is one of very few rock musicals in which the music is authentic rock. It’s brilliant, and well worth your attention.  — David Barbour

Film Soundtrack, 2001 (Hybrid) (4 / 5) Here is one of those very rare instances in which the film improves on the stage original, as evidenced by this soundtrack album. The Hedwig song list is slightly altered and rearranged, but all the good stuff is here, and the lyrics are far more intelligible than on the original cast recording. John Cameron Mitchell’s vocals are, if anything, more confident, and the overall sound mix is more balanced. The album preserves the score’s scalding cynicism and dark romanticism, its Brecht-meets-power-rock sensibility. “Wig in a Box,” in which Hedwig recalls his/her trailer-trash life in Kansas, is given an especially ebullient rendition. Listeners are reminded that this is the most original musical theater score in years, a tribute to survivors everywhere.  — D.B.

Original Broadway Cast, 2014 (Atlantic Records) (5 / 5) Dare I ask, does Neil Patrick Harris surpass John Cameron Mitchell in the role of Hedwig? (I fear angry fans hunting me down with sharp instruments.) True, Harris lacks a certain world-weary Teutonic quality that was Mitchell’s hallmark, but he sings with a purity of tone rarely heard in rock music, and he imbues the character with a powerful note of longing that helps explain Hedwig’s history of bad decisions. At times, Harris’s Hedwig almost sounds like a choir boy, which has the effect of making his tortured life story all the more affecting. And, of course, he’s a riot, finding sly humor in all sorts of places. (“What’s an eight-track?” he wonders while leading the audience sing-along in “Wig in a Box.”) By any standard, it’s a sensational performance. The tune stack is close to that of the Off Broadway cast album, but there are some intriguing differences. For example, “Sugar Daddy,” which originally had a kind of rockabilly arrangement, is given a much harder-rocking sound here. Also, the album opens with Itzhak’s introduction (“Ladies and gentleman, whether you like it or not – Hedwig!”) followed by the most electric version of “The Star-Spangled Banner” since Jimi Hendrix at Woodstock. Lena Hall’s Itzhak is given an expansive showcase, especially in “The Long Grift,” which is now her solo. She also features in the production’s most uproarious invention: Audiences on Broadway were told that Hedwig, unable to raise the funds for a full production, was performing on the set of the Belasco Theatre’s previous (fictional) tenant. This cues Itzhak’s rendition of “When Love Explodes” (Love Theme from Hurt Locker: The Musical). The bit it is as outrageous as it sounds, and it’s a highlight of this recording, which is arguably the definitive one. — D.B.

Original Broadway Cast, 1953 (RCA/Sepia) (1 / 5) A credible case could be made that, on any given project, Jule Styne was only as good as his lyricist. Give him Sondheim and you get Gypsy; give him Bob Hilliard and the result is Hazel Flagg. This musical adaptation of Nothing Sacred, Ben Hecht’s classic 1937 film satire, was intended as Helen Gallagher’s stepping-stone to stardom in the title role of a Vermont lass who’s thought to be dying of radium poisoning and is transported to New York by Everywhere magazine for a supposed last fling. (Guess what happens to her prognosis.) Gallagher works very hard here, and her contralto belt is strong and secure. She’s supported by such Broadway reliables as Benay Venuta, Jack Whiting (introducing “Every Street’s a Boulevard in Old New York”), and Thomas Mitchell (who doesn’t sing a note but took home a Best Musical Actor Tony anyway). Unfortunately, the star’s luck ends there. Asked to carry most of the songs and dances, Gallagher opens with a dull ballad (“The World Is Beautiful Today”) and closes with an equally dull 11-o’clocker (“Laura de Maupassant”). Most of what’s in between is dull as well, including romantic interest John Howard, Don Walker’s by-the-book orchestrations, and several ho-hum ensemble numbers, although the show does sport amusingly elaborate vocal arrangements by Hugh Martin. The main problem seems to have been that Hilliard’s lyrics failed to inspire Styne. Well, if you had to set “Autograph Chant” or “Salome (With Her Seven Veils),” you’d be uninspired, too.  — Marc Miller

Original Cast, 2002 (Columbia/Sony) (3 / 5) George C. Wolfe’s love letter to Harlem played the legendary Apollo Theater. It was less a full-fledged musical, or even a revue, than a museum installation. If many of the new tunes written for Harlem Song, by Wolfe and his Bring in ‘Da Noise, Bring in ‘Da Funk collaborators Zane Mark and Daryl Waters, don’t quite live up to their esteemed ancestry, what could possibly compare favorably to Billy Strayhorn’s “Take the ‘A’ Train” — even when it’s sung in Spanish, as here? The show never gets more daring than that, but with songs by a diverse range of artists, including Duke Ellington, Harold Arlen, and Count Basie, it comes across as a mostly exciting, largely seamless retrospective of Harlem’s rich cultural and musical heritage. The band (led by Mark) and the fine cast of 16 performers, particularly the redolent Queen Esther and B. J. Crosby, are more than capable of smoothing over the rough edges and creating a listening experience that’s alternately cool and hot. A few tracks ignite more quickly than others —  for example, “Well Alright Then,” by Jimmie Lunceford, performed by Queen Esther; “For Sale,” by Clarence Williams and Henry Troy, knocked out of the park by Crosby; and “Linda Brown,” by Alvin Cowens, sung by the whole company. But the heat generated by this recording never dies down for too long. — Matthew Murray

Original Broadway Cast, 1968 (RCA) (4 / 5) This is a charming if inconsequential cast album of a show that missed the mark onstage. The score, by John Kander and Fred Ebb (Cabaret, Chicago), lives up to their reputation as the kings of great opening numbers. In this case, it’s the title song, so magnificently sung by Robert Goulet that you’ll think you’re about to hear one of Broadway’s all-time great musicals. Melodic, evocative, and dramatic, the song is a joyous ode to the wonders of childhood and memories of hometown life. However, the show that follows it was not embraced by the public, which had its mind on less innocent events in 1968. Whether or not the timing of this sweet, simple musical is responsible for its obscurity remains a mystery. What’s left behind is a lovely recording of a beautiful score that includes little-known but inspired ballads such as “I Don’t Remember You” and “Walking Among My Yesterdays,” plus showstoppers like “The Life of the Party” and “A Certain Girl.” Goulet’s Tony Award-winning performance shows why he was a great singing star of the 1960s; David Wayne is also excellent as the curmudgeonly Grandpapa. Although The Happy Time is not regarded as a precious gem from the golden era of musical theater, this album is a must for Kander and Ebb fans.  — Gerard Alessandrini

Original Broadway Cast, 1956 (RCA) (3 / 5) Ethel Merman’s only flop starred her as Liz Livingston, a wealthy, rough-at-the-edges widow from Philadelphia who decides to beat Grace Kelly at her own game and marry off her daughter to royalty — in this case, Spanish royalty (Fernando Lamas). The flimsy book by Howard Lindsay and Russel Crouse, who apparently hoped to repeat the topical success of Call Me Madam, wasn’t loved by critics. However, the score — written by a pair of Broadway neophytes, composer Harold Karr and lyricist Matt Dubey in a style that can only be called “School of Irving Berlin” — does contain a number of tasty items. Merman’s voice turns everything to gold, especially her jubilant intro number, “Gee, But It’s Good to Be Here,” in which she holds one note for an impossible length of time and then goes up a step without taking a breath. Also fun are the risqué “Mr. Livingstone,” in which Liz recalls her marriage, and the balled “This Is What I Call Love.” Lamas scores with the lushly romantic “It’s Like a Beautiful Woman.” The numbers for the inevitable young lovers (Virginia Gibson and Gordon Polk) are disposable, and the topical lyrics, as in “The Wedding of the Year Blues,” are dated and silly. Still, even the weakest of songs benefit from Ted Royal’s orchestrations, with their swingy undertones. — David Barbour

Original Broadway Cast, 1961 (DRG) (5 / 5) “Ev’ry man, I must alert you / When seeking a lady fair / Always gravitates to virtue / Still hoping it won’t be there.” These four lines, echoing W.S. Gilbert, are only a meager sampling of the wit that E.Y. Harburg brought to this musical adaptation of Aristophanes’ Lysistrata, in which the title character persuades the ladies of Greece to withhold sexual favors until their bellicose spouses stop pursuing war. When they do, hell breaks loose — and so does heaven. Perhaps all good lyricists are philosophers; if so, Harburg, forever contemplating man’s inhumanity to man, was one of the most philosophical, but he never forgot to keep ’em laughing while sending the message. Known for trying his collaborators’ patience, Harburg must have found this one of his smoothest assignments in that he was working with the lilting music of the long-deceased Jacques Offenbach, who couldn’t talk back. Harburg’s words sit on Offenbach’s melting tunes as a gondola glides on a cosmic sea in the masterful lyricist’s “Adrift on a Star,” a setting of the beloved barcarole from The Tales of Hoffman. Hearing this virtually flawless, operetta-like score, you might wonder why The Happiest Girl in the World only played 96 performances. Explanation: The Fred Saidy-Henry Myers book made for a listless, substrata Lysistrata. The show’s high points are on the CD, and that definitely includes Cyril Ritchard — the personisfication of “fey” — performing as both a highborn Greek and the troublemaking Pluto. Janice Rule, not known for musicals, sings well here as the goddess Diana, who’s on the girls’ side. Dran Seitz as the title character, and Bruce Yarnell as General Kinesias, warble beautifully. So does everyone in the large chorus, Lainie Kazan among them. The orchestrations are by the great Robert Russell Bennett, with the equally great Hershy Kay. Conductor Robert DeCormier did the vocal arrangements. In other words, top professional work all around. — David Finkle