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Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown [Ghostlight 8-4447]
When Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown opened in November, I compared it to gazpacho, that tasty hot-weather soup from sunny Spain: refreshing, peppery and palate cleansing, but with so many diverse ingredients that the flavors canceled themselves out. It was a frustrating show; there was much that was good, and you could sense that the creators were on the verge — if you will — of pulling it off. But they couldn't, and didn't, leaving a vast display of talent on the stage which came across the footlights as an engaging and intriguing but at times indecipherable mass.

Now comes the original cast album, from Ghostlight, which reveals a score that is — yes — tasty, spicy and delicious. Back at the Belasco, I admired what composer-lyricist David Yazbek was doing but couldn't exactly enjoy it. There was so much going on, at all times — and so many things and characters to follow — that it was difficult to actually listen to the songs. Six months later, I specifically remembered a few of them; otherwise, I recalled a score with a pulsating beat and a cascade of flavorful images in words. Listening to the CD, I find a veritable parade of fine songs: intelligent, clever, melodic, and filled with the sort of unexpected touches we've grown to expect from Mr. Yazbek.

My initial reaction upon viewing The Full Monty, in 2000, was that this new-to-the-theatre songwriter was a budding Loesser; my reaction upon viewing the 2005 Dirty Rotten Scoundrels was that he was indeed Loesserish, building his songs on playful melodic twists and turns of phrase in a quest to not only entertain us but to keep us listening for the next surprise. The Dirty Rotten Scoundrels CD only enhanced my appreciation of the songwriter; the characters fill their songs with tangents and asides, usually wildly funny and always routing themselves back to the idea at hand.

My experience with the newly-released Women on the Verge CD? I sat here thinking, now this is a good song, I don't quite remember it. Now this is a good song, I didn't appreciate it at the time. Now this one is wonderful. No, it is not that Women on the Verge sounds better on the CD than in the theatre; I think, simply, that it was difficult to hear the score in the theatre.

And I'm not talking about problems of sound design. After listening to the CD a couple of times, I really and truly would like to go back and see Women on the Verge again. Not that I think the show would seem better; as far as I'm concerned, if a show requires multiple viewings to be enjoyed, then you might as well cart off the scenery. (Many shows — ranging from Sweeney Todd to Light in the Piazza to Book of Mormon — are richer the second time through; but that only works when the theatregoer is eager to buy that second ticket.) But I would love to see, and understand, just why Women on the Verge was all but impossible to embrace at the Belasco. I have my theories, and would gladly engage in such a discussion.

But that's not the point of this column. This is the place to say that while I found myself able to recommend the original Broadway production of Women on the Verge to only a very few potential playgoers, I am glad to wholeheartedly and unreservedly recommend the original cast album to all. I needn't go into specifics; just listen to the thing and discover it for yourself.

But I will say a word for Laura Benanti, who gave the sort of performance that wins a surefire Tony Award if you open in April but can run into problems if you open in November and close New Year's weekend. "Model Behavior," her big number, is especially well captured on the CD; while you don't get the sight of her sliding around stage on extra-high heels that seemed to be made of Slinkys, you don't need the visual to appreciate the performance. The song — consisting of a string of messages left on an answering machine — is a marvel. While this was Benanti's only solo, she was just as good throughout the show; you could hardly look at her without bursting with glee.

"Lovesick," "My Crazy Heart," "Island," "On the Verge," "Tangled," "Invisible." All are treats on the CD, with most of the singing from Sherie Rene Scott with Patti LuPone, Brian Stokes Mitchell and various others on the verge. At the Belasco, though, they were in some ways covered up by the intriguingly innovative but ultimately unworkable production scheme. But I keep returning to "Model Behavior." I defy anyone to listen to it once without instantly pressing the replay button. And while you're marveling at the performance, realize that this is one of those pieces of material that can exist only when you have a songwriter who is deliciously and unabashedly deranged.