The first recordings — celebrating Anything Goes and The Band Wagon — were not especially successful when they were released in 1950, in part because Martin was (not unnaturally) assigned all the good songs. Thus, there was little semblance of plot or character. Recognizing the problem, Lieberson and Engel decided to cast the next albums with actors suitable to the roles. They found their third offering at the Starlight Operetta in Dallas, where Engel conducted a summer production of Pal Joey starring Vivienne Segal (who had originated the role in 1940). Columbia's Pal Joey, with Segal and Harold Lang, was released in 1951. The success of the recording directly resulted in a hit Broadway revival of the Rodgers and Hart piece, reviving the fortunes of that previously neglected property.

There were a dozen or so additional studio cast albums in the Lieberson/Engel series. If Pal Joey was the most influential, and the complete Porgy and Bess was the most important, the 1958 Brigadoon might well be the most vibrant of the group. For reasons unknown, this album all but disappeared over the years. DRG has now, finally, brought it to CD, and it is every bit as good as remembered.

This was not just another studio recording, mind you. Brigadoon was the youngest show of the series, a mere ten years old when it went into the studio in the summer of 1957. But the original cast album — the first undertaken by RCA — had been incomplete and primitively recorded. One of Lieberson's critical moves at Columbia had been to convince his bosses to fund the entire capitalization of the 1956 bonanza My Fair Lady, a gamble that turned into an instant bonanza. What better way to show Columbia's appreciation of Fritz Loewe and Alan Jay Lerner, and cement the relationship (which would result in a second Gold Record for Columbia, Camelot), than to give the boys what was labeled "a full-length recording of the Broadway hit in hi-fi." The 1958 Brigadoon is not full length, at least not the way they make 'em today; Agnes de Mille's several ballets, integral parts of the proceedings, were not included. Still, Lieberson found room for three songs left off the RCA album.

I seem to recall hearing, but have no way of verifying, that Loewe was in constant attendance during this recording. Unlike other composers, Loewe knew what he wanted, and what his music should sound like. Maybe that's why the Columbia Brigadoon is precisely performed and so enchanting. Brigadoon, as the authors intended.

It seems odd to sit down with this recording and realize that there are only four principals and a chorus doing all the singing, but this is the way the show was written. (Brigadoon has nine or so featured players, but only four of them sing.) Newlyweds Shirley Jones and Jack Cassidy head the cast. Jones was the main attraction, coming off the recent film versions of Oklahoma! and Carousel. She is wonderful, as the lass "waitin' for her dearie." Every note is perfectly sung and enunciated. "For ye see," she sings, "I believe" — and that's it; Shirley Jones does believe, every word she sings.

Cassidy, of the golden voice, is at his best here. He sings these songs, all right; but I can't help but get the impression of a singer with a glorious voice who knows that he has a glorious voice. This worked to Cassidy's advantage in Wish You Were Here, She Loves Me and Superman; it is less helpful in Brigadoon. Even so, Cassidy does extremely well. For his final number, "From this Day On," he drops the throb and demonstrates how good he might have been in this role if he acted it. Which is one of the differences between having a cast that has rehearsed and played the show, as opposed to actors assembled in a recording studio.

Frank Poretta, who never found a Broadway career, does well enough with Charlie Dalrymple's two songs. The jewel of the proceedings, though, is Susan Johnson. Johnson was a Brigadoon baby, if you will; she came to town at 19, joined the chorus, moved up to understudy the featured comedienne, and took the role in the road company.

Having played Meg Brockie hundreds of times, Johnson knows precisely what to do and when to do it. Her entrance in the opening number — with a gag lyric about a cow — sets up a flashing light in what otherwise must have seemed like it was going to be a pastoral evening. Pay attention, folks, Johnson seems to be saying. Her two solos, "The Love of My Life" and "My Mother's Wedding Day," are prime examples of How To Do It. Listen to how she takes Lerner's first-rate comedy material and enhances it; what a difference you can make by merely emphasizing the right syllables. For those of you who keep hearing praise heaped on the late Susan Johnson and wondering what the fuss was about, this is the place to find out.

Engel, whose night job at the time was over at the less pastoral Dogpatch, gets full value from chorus and orchestra. Ted Royal's orchestrations are his finest, in my opinion, by a large margin. Loewe deserves a good deal of credit, I suppose; his manuscripts include many of the countermelodies, often specifying the instruments (which is highly uncommon along Broadway). Royal seems to have done most of the songs himself. Bob Noeltner did two of the important ballets, "Come to Me, Bend to Me" and the "Sword Dance." (Neither of these are included on the 1958 recording, although the latter is used as the show's instrumental Introduction.) Phil Lang contributed a handful of utilities and scene changes.

A considerably more complete Brigadoon can be heard on John McGlinn's excellent 1992 album [Angel 754481], which is also highly recommended. That disc includes all the ballets, along with especially fine performances from Brent Barrett and Rebecca Luker. The new-to-CD 1958 version, conversely, has Jones and Cassidy, Loewe standing in the recording studio, and the authentic Susan Johnson; call it a draw, and get both.

I feel it necessary to report that there is yet another Brigadoon that has just been released [Jay CDJAY 1387], which is s-l-o-w and can't begin to measure up to the others. I regret saying so, as I appreciate Jay's continuing dedication to the field. The Jay disc does give us a good performance from George Dvorsky, and what appears to be the initial recording of the Entr'acte — which is interesting in that the style of orchestration is jarringly different than the rest of the show. Continued...