This group, with some of the same singers, performed these three comic one-acts at a luncheon concert in New York City’s Bryant Park a few summers back. I thought the trio most amusing, and, checking my watch, thought, “What a neat CD they would make!” Wishes do come true, sometimes.

Douglas Moore’s 1957 Gallantry is a loving spoof of television soap operas, complete with commercial interruptions. In the commercials, a slinky lady announcer advertises soap and wax; in the drama itself a surgeon is trying to seduce his nurse-anesthetist, but she loves another, who turns out to be the patient on the operating table. . . . Moore wrote charming music for this blend of farce and sentiment, with a variety of arias and duets. To turn the finale into a quartet, the surgeon joins the announcer in endorsing the products while a love duet is still going on. My favorite exchange goes:

Donald (casually): How is Mrs. Gregg, Doctor?
Lola (stunned): Mrs. Gregg?
Donald: Yes! how is your wife, Doctor?
Dr. Gregg (disdainfully): Put the patient to sleep, Miss Markham.

Hindemith’s 1927 “sketch with music” centers on the cinematic trick of reversing the action: husband suspects wife of infidelity; they argue, and the truth comes out; he shoots her; doctor arrives and takes her away; husband leaps out window. A sage appears and decides to turn it all around. Husband leaps back in; wife is carried back in; bullet returns to gun; argument goes backward to a happy ending. This performance is in an English translation (the performance on a Candide LP is sung in German). Accompaniment is by two pianos and six woodwinds; it all takes but eleven minutes. The music is lively fun, and this performance makes the most of it.

Menotti’s 1946 The Telephone has been a continuing success for half a century; its wit and elegance are typical of his early operas. The plot situation and the spirit of the piece are exactly the opposite of that other telephone opera, Poulenc’s La Voix humaine. Ben is trying to propose to Lucy, but her telephone keeps interrupting; he leaves and phones in his proposal, which she accepts. I’ve never heard The Telephone done better than on this disc: Jeanne Ommerlé is a breezy delight as the scatterbrained heroine, and she sings the high-lying near-monolog with silken ease. The instrumentalists are all first-rate, with especially lovely oboe playing by Marcia Butler.

The recordings are bright and clear; full texts are included. An ugly cartoon cover becomes quite funny once you know Moore’s piece. I can’t imagine any listener not being amused and charmed by this disc.

James H. North