A top woman vocalist is one of the music trade's most valuable properties. The smaller labels, long envious of the majors' near-monopoly of tried-and-true stars, have been scouring the boondocks of musicmaking, in a search for new talent they can call their own. Result: the biggest crop of new names in years. So far, none of their finds is likely to jeopardize the record sales of such old reliables as Jo Stafford and Dinah Shore, but some are well worth a listen. Bethlehem puts its money on Helen Carr (Why Do I Love You) and Terry Morel (Songs of a Woman in Love); EmArcy displays the modern phrasings of Helen Merrill; Storyville has uncovered a sweet-husky voice on Introducing Milli Vernon; Liberty's Lonely Girl exploits its success with Julie London, a talented miss who spends most of the record breathing down the listener's neck. As for the majors, they are currently raiding Europe: RCA Victor backs the susurrant, suave and seductive tones of an Italian, Katyna Ranieri, in Love in Three Languages, while Columbia has been pushing Paris' Juliette Greco, whose contralto voice sounds alarmingly like a tenor's.
Other pop records:
Born to Be With You (Chordettes; Cadence). The girls give out their tender message with ringing fervor; in fact, this group sounds like Aunt Alice's hymn-sing gone pro.
Hot Dog Buddy Buddy (Bill Haley & His Comets; Decca). Rock 'n' roll at its gosh-darndest, with something that goes off like pistol shots on the offbeats, a recurrent crash of someone (apparently) smashing dishes between harmonies, and, out front, Haley himself, exuberant with thoughts of his own vitality.
Hello, Baby (Fred Astaire; Verve). A song that slips in amidst the hurly-burly of modern pop songs about as unexpectedly as a soft-shoe dance in a rock 'n' roll show−and brings as much relief. Astaire, who helped write the relaxed lyrics, sings them with nice feeling, as always.
I Almost Lost My Mind (Pat Boone; Dot). A winning voice that can make even the most inane lyrics acceptable. Boone gives the blues−about his lost love−a swooping hillbilly flavor.
I'm in the Mood for Love (Amru Sani; Grand Award). East Indian Entertainer (New Faces of '56) Sani begins this oldie with a series of racking, echoing groans, but then picks up a twinkle of humor that makes everything all right.
Mind if I Make Love to You (Len Dresslar; Mercury). A Cole Porter song, from the forthcoming film High Society, that sounds like one of the old ones, with its well-mannered melody, its discreet rumba rhythm, its inner rhymes. Only the sentiment grates.
Picnic (McGuire Sisters; Coral). Country-style harmony applied to the theme music from the film Picnic, with rather touching results.
Tell Me Why (Gale Storm; Dot). One of those concoctions that bear the inscrutable features of a hit. This one may have a pretty tune−with words about the mysteries of loving and leaving−but a listener would never know; Songstress Storm's voice skitters around it, slides under it, swoops past it, does everything but sing it straight.
Whatever Will Be, Will Be (Doris Day; Columbia). More about the mystery of life, but with a fatalistic twist and a helpful touch of peasant philosophy. The answer to all queries: "The future's not ours to see; Que será, será."