The zealous, bright-eyed, young Mormon missionaries out to find converts in Uganda are distributing their printed religious material ("This Book will change your life") and—on his own very different mission—the zealous, bright-eyed, young corporate ladder-climber clutches his book of advice which he considers gospel. Follow the followers to two ultra-high-energy brand new Broadway cast albums. 2011's Tony Award-dominating brash smash Book of Mormon invokes musical comedy traditions while it surely provokes aplenty. Just over half a century old, the Pulitzer Prize-winning How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying comes up for a second major Broadway revival after history proved that it can indeed succeed; it tries, tries again and still sparkles. And, of course, they've both also won attention and awards for their own books, with the two plays' dialogue scenes scoring along with their scores.

THE BOOK OF MORMON
2011 ORIGINAL BROADWAY CAST
Ghostlight/ Sh-K-Boom Records

"Irreverent" may jump to mind as the first word to describe the "word of God" presentations/skewering in The Book of Mormon, but it jumps with joy early and often. Its writers and cast and orchestra are, in fact, like determined, committed, high-intensity salesmen (not unlike the missionary characters and their role models) and can be difficult to resist. The glibness and glee and free-for-all celebratory doings are steamrollers. Satire that can be politically incorrect, juvenile, or stinging has an all-stops-out company singing and throwing caution and/or common sense and respect to the wind.

The CD begins with the bright and blithe bouncy opening number "Hello!" as we are introduced to the door-to-door disciples delivering "the most amazing book"—the track begins and is punctuated with the sounds of doorbells ringing. It's terrific and tuneful. The show is not totally unkind to the good intentions and goodness "Good News"-spreading Mormons aspire to. The nose-thumbing "naughty" antics get a thumbs-up as entertainment much of the time, with some big warning stickers for sticklers and the wary. The crass language, with expletives and vulgarity exploding one after another like Fourth of July firecrackers, dominate a few songs. Add to this the blatant blasts of blasphemy amid other merry mockery and the easily offended will be uneasy. Even the not-so-easily offended will be tested or maybe blush or feel their jaws dropping or heads shaking—but maybe their feet will be tapping and begrudging grins growing, too. Context is important: what might seem to only be present for shock value or sneering for sneering's sake can be thought-provoking, not just provoking as pranksterism. There's a method, methinks, to the madness. And there's affection and understanding of human nature not so far below the surface snarkiness.

The enthusiasm and naïve qualities of its 19-year-old protagonists, these younger Elders getting their feet wet as they step into their roles as missionaries, drives the show, in high drive. Excellent and charming performances, with piercingly feisty-and-fun vocals, are turned in by the duo at the center of things. Andrew Rannells as Elder Price is priceless as his limits and ego and faith are tested. Despite his feeling that being assigned to work in faraway Uganda is nowhere near as awesome as his hoped-for choice of Orlando, Florida, he's funny and fierce giving it a whirl, thinking it might be "like Lion King." His assigned partner, Elder Cunningham, hero-worships him and Josh Gad, in this role of an upbeat, chubby, cheery guy getting a kick out of being a loyal sidekick, turns in a consistently genial gem of a performance. They are a latter-day Latter Day Saints version of that fellow of La Mancha and his Sancho. Their never-say-die dynamic duo duet is a delicious delight, differentiated from other musical theatre "friendship" songs—as is evident by its title, of "You and Me (But Mostly Me)." It's that rare one-joke idea for a song that doesn't wear out its welcome, perhaps because of its bald selfishness.

The writers sharing credit for the sampled-herein book of The Book of Mormon as well as its music and lyrics never have audacity in short supply: and that is no wonder as they are Avenue Q's co-creator Robert Lopez and "South Park"'s Matt Stone and Trey Parker, the latter co-directing with choreographer Casey Nicholaw. And the high-stepping energy almost dances off the CD, with dance arrangements by Glen Kelly. Many color photos of moments from the show, and all the lyrics and most dialogue lines heard are in a generous booklet. It also contains a detailed plot synopsis and veteran theatre critic Frank Rich's high-praising analysis and perspective. Writing that shows brazen playfulness, with nothing seemingly off-limits, is the order of the day and much of it shines on the CD, whether laced with acid or just brimming with bright innocence and unblinking, non-winking (for the characters, not the audience) belief. Such sweetness and eyes-on-the-prized-prize pieces ("I Believe," led by Rannells, and the paean to that Utopian Utah metropolis—pronounced as "Sal Tlay Ka Siti" endorsed endearingly by Nikki M. James) temper the harsher, smuttier, in-your-face stuff.

A particularly successful blending of sunshine and searing satire comes with the company number "Turn It Off." This perky pip of a piece posits that any feeling can easily be switched off "like a light switch!"—guilt, doubt, homosexual feelings. Just like that. It's the irresistible, old school (with a new-school lesson) musical comedy splashy thing with all the bells and whistles and exuberance bursting at the seams. It seems that "Turn It Off" will be the one I'll easily turn on, like a light switch, with my CD player on repeat play. But the bubbliness does not mask the bubble-bursting agenda.

Vociferous applause to Stephen Oremus, musical director and vocal arranger, and Larry Hochman who co-orchestrated the show with him. Much of the zip and excitement comes via the band playing so spiffily the orchestrations which are super-smart, the musical team tipping its hat and hand to Broadway traditions. The ensemble sings with verve and full commitment, in rich, radiant harmonies—even chanting African-stylized invective and invocations or lopsided religious pageantry sidestepping the truth. (As they say in Porgy and Bess, "the things that you're liable to read in the Bible ain't necessarily so." The Book of Mormon seems to have taken a page from that book and run with it - for better or for worse, in sick humor and in health (a healthy box office). It's a hit that sometimes hits below the belt with its low humor but high marks for the "wow" factor and cheekiness.

HOW TO SUCCEED IN BUSINESS WITHOUT REALLY TRYING
2011 BROADWAY REVIVAL CAST
Decca Broadway

"This book is all that I need!" cries the perky wannabe executive, devouring the tips in his prized guidebook to conquering the corporate world. He sounds almost young enough to be fresh out of high school, giggling at the chance to have an awesome summer internship and borrowing his dad's suit, striving to look and act like a real grown-up. Oh, how he relishes imagining the moment when he masters the art of "how to dictate memorandum." So he didn't get the memorandum that the part usually comes with as much snake in the grass as eager beaver, self-described in song as "the bold, brave spring of the tiger that quickens your walk." Sounds striving? Yes. Sounds conniving? Not so much. Not a precocious high schooler, but high-spirited, high-voiced star Daniel Radcliffe (now 21) on disc radiates "sweet" instead of the expected "slick" and it still does the trick—just because he's that endearing and sparkles. And his singing sounds bright and capable and comfortable on the recording of these rock-solid Frank Loesser songs from half a century ago.

Savvy record producer Robert Sher brings loving care, true theatre ambiance with clear and bright - but not brittle-sound. And musically, with 31 tracks, he lets the cup runneth over generously, as he did so memorably for cast album fuller looks at Follies (Paper Mill), Gypsy (most recent revival) and Annie (anniversary 2-CD set with songs from the sequel), among others. When it comes to this score, more is more—more Loesser melodies, restated and expanded: they're strong and tasty enough to not cloy with second helpings. There's exit music, an entr'acte, and there are reprises. In the piece titled as the "Pirate Dance"—heard in short and an extra-long treatment (which ends the CD as a bonus) we get plenty of "Paris Original"; "The Company Way" is welcome company to invite back, too.

It's a ball to hear the whole thing affectionately presented, with rosy Radcliffe just one of many pluses and his persona one of the variations in tone making this not just a copycat (translation: redundant) recorded version of the show. Also notable are the adapted orchestrations (David Chase, also conducting) for a smaller (14-member) and snappy, jazzy band with personality and presence—and its opportunity to present extended pieces and more instrumental music. But those hopeful for more rare tidbits should be aware that the intriguingly titled track "Rosemary's Philosophy" is not a lost song, it's just a few lines of dialogue and words repeated from that character's earlier-sung big number, "Happy to Keep His Dinner Warm." Speaking of warm and tasty, there's plenty of that served up throughout, but ham is not the main item on the menu. It could have been broad and brash and an over-the-top cartoon. Instead, by and (not so) large, it feels like a kinder, gentler, warm and fuzzy How to Succeed which succeeds without giving in to temptations to schtick it up. You don't feel 'em sweat either.

All that being said, it results in fewer laugh-out-loud moments of sublime silliness. For example, it takes a while for the desperation and agitation in "Coffee Break" to get perking, and "Brotherhood of Man" is not quite the all-stops-out showstopper with each succeeding chorus a topper to the previous one. Some supporting characters previously played bigger and more eccentric for wacky humor are tamed here and thus less prominent. The once-more-around-the- water cooler trip wisely resists the urge to condescend, be arch, modernize or sermonize or comment in an attempt to be "relevant." Since it's still set in its original time period of the beginning of the 1960s, with the distance of the passing of the decades, the sexist attitudes—and women being subservient or desperately husband-hunting rather than job-hunting as if any could or would compete—are a bit less troubling. They seem more like harmless relics of their time, not presented as realistic or needing a heavy wink. As Rosemary, Finch's love interest (patiently waiting for him to be prioritizing that interest), Rose Hemmingway finds her way admirably to a nice balance between artificially sweetened ingénue and belter. She's winsome, yet sings (attractively) with some oomph.

Second-billed John Larroquette as the big boss sings in a very carefully clipped way, as if it's an executive order never to hold a note and to take very, very careful note of every "D" (as in "Diction") sound ending a syllable in "Grand Old Ivy." However, it becomes an agreeable big number nonetheless as the football fervor kicks in with Radcliffe and the men all male-bonding. Rob Bartlett as a "yes man" adds zest to the mantra of playing it oh so safe, a. k. a. "The Company Way." And the company way for the How to Succeed company is to sing in tight, bright formation with verve on company numbers without sounding anonymously bland.

With the cast playing things a bit less antic/frantic—Christopher J. Hanke and Tammy Blanchard not so outrageously oversized as the boss's obsequious, annoying nephew and secretary not engaged for any type of typing skills (file under "dumb sexpot")—the listening is fizzy and jubilant without being gargantuan and exhausting. The happy news is that it still feels spectacularly theatrical, a listening experience just right to bring into your living room. And you'll still be tempted to push the sofa out of the way and dance and sing. Hooray!!

- Rob Lester

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