New Pop Records

Satchmo at Pasadena (Louis Armstrong and the All Stars; Decca LP). This is the third jumbo-size recording of the old master's popular outfit recorded at a live concert. By no means the best he has done (both Decca and Victor have shown the All Stars in better form), it is the liveliest album of the week. Armstrong's trumpeting is bright and strong, his gravelly voice as ingratiatingly ribald as ever, and the old songs (Stardust, Honeysuckle Rose, etc.) are still good.

Lee Wiley Sings Irving Berlin and Vincent Youmans (with Stan Freeman and Cy Walter, duo-pianists; 2 Columbia LPs). Another longtimer, Songstress Wiley has a husky voice that breathes wistfully of the '20s. Her style is confidential; she picks the songs, both gay (Rise 'n Shine, Some Sunny Day) and melancholy (Suppertime, Time on My Hands), that are best suited to her voice.

The Gay Nineties (Helen Traubel; Victor LP). Wagnerian Soprano Traubel has a big reputation, a big voice. She scales the voice down pretty far for the old pulse-bumpers like A Bird in a Gilded Cage, My Mother Was a Lady, Waiting for the Robert E. Lee. The job could have been done with more authority by somebody closer to the idiom.

Feet Up (Guy Mitchell; Columbia). This one claims to be the first song about a baby's backside. Its good cheer has a jigtime ring as the proud father congratulates himself.

It Might as Well Be Spring (Marion MacPartland; Savoy). The English-born pianist gives this shy song just the right tone with a clear texture and a simple counterpoint.

Jive at Five (Count Basie: Mercury). One of the top Negro jazzmen of the late '30s, the Count tries a comeback. But the fine original side men are no longer with him, and his latest jive does more thumping than jumping.

Sudden Fear (Steve Lawrence; King). Hidden behind those pictures of wide-eyed terror advertising the movie of the same name lies a tender sentiment, an angelic choir, a soaring symphonic arrangement, and lyrics that say:

Please say you love me, dear, and then this sudden fear

Will suddenly disappear from my anxious heart.

You're the One I Care For (Art Mooney; M-G-M). The customary sentimental announcement, with the male, as usual, on his knees, but saved by frequent raucous squawks from the brasses in the orchestra.

How Strange (Mitch Miller's Orchestra and Chorus; Columbia). A pleasant, exotic treatment played in unison by distant horns while a harpsichord tinkles like a mandolin.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.