Three roads to Chicago: the movie sound track joins two stage versions--but which cast album is the best?

Few musicals achieve multiple-recording status the way John Kander and Fred Ebb's murderous vaudeville romp, Chicago, has. But ever since its acidic 1975 debut--when it was overshadowed by the Tony-hogging A Chorus Line--its reputation has grown like a particularly vicious and juicy rumor. An acclaimed concert performance in June 1996 sparked a smash Tony-winning Broadway revival that is still up and running, which in turn led to the popular 2002 film version that's set to give Kander, Ebb, and the show's original director--coauthor--spiritual mentor, the late Bob Fosse, an Oscar-winning bookend to their 1972 film of Cabaret. (Take that, snoozy film version of A Chorus Line!)

So which CD should you buy? An argument can be made to get all three, especially if your Chicago love dovetails with a collector's mind-set. (The non-U.S. recordings are a whole other story.) Nonetheless, each recording has its singular qualities. (Let's call them 1975, 1996, and 2002.)

First of all, they don't all have the same songs. Since 1975 was an LP release, the vinyl couldn't fit in Velma's jealousy number, "I Know a Girl," or much incidental music or even all the verses to "I Can't Do It Alone" and "Razzle Dazzle." The 1975 version does, however, feature Gwen Verdon's superbly delivered monologue intro to "Roxie," an invaluably hilarious setup for that anthem of showbiz ambition. 1996 is really a complete version, with longer songs, lots of dialogue, extra music, reprises, and "I Know a Girl." But even 1975 feels full compared with the stripped-down film sound track, which axed Mary Sunshine's "Little Bit of Good" (usually sung in falsetto onstage by a male performer in drag), Velma and Roxie's "My Own Best Friend" duet, the aforementioned "I Know a Girl," and "When Velma Takes the Stand." The crass hip-hop tracks that end 2002 aren't much consolation, nor sadly is the new Kander and Ebb song "I Move On," a lackluster tune surely added to get these veteran composers a Best Original Song Academy Award. "Class" was filmed but dropped during editing, but mercifully it shows up on the sound track.

As for the vivacity of Kander's pastiche score, all three do the job: 1975 has the kickiest sense of rhythm and pacing, thanks to Ralph Burns's orchestrations; it's got a whip-crack liveliness, as does 2002. And 1996 goes for a richer sound that mutes the Jazz Age slap but gives a deeper color to the sleeker, sexier numbers.

Performances are what sell a show like Chicago, though, and on that front, the holy trinity of Gwen Verdon, Chita Rivera, and Jerry Orbach make 1975 the only real must for Chicago fans. Verdon's lethal, finely honed chirp is Roxie Hart personified; Rivera falls into a sinewy, gin-soaked reverie while singing "All That Jazz"; and Orbach's soothing, soaring baritone is ideal for lawyer Billy Flynn. That said, 1996 is a standout for how dangerously sexy Bebe Neuwirth makes Velma, how the wonderful James Naughton's Billy is more buttery than oily, and how Joel Grey enlivens "Mr. Cellophane." Ann Reinking's Roxie is OK, but she's basically Gwen Verdon, version 2.0.

Renee Zellweger on the 2002 tracks approaches the stupid-smart chorine differently, stressing vocal chops over talk-sing cooing, while Catherine Zeta-Jones has a nice, earthy authority as Velma. Richard Gere, though, is clearly having so much fun getting to warble a part that he's perfected in countless films--the smiling weasel--that he's the only performer (besides Queen Latifah's prison matron) who seems intent on making the cynically exuberant totality of the show come alive for listeners. After all, doesn't Chicago recognize that sometimes there's nothing more entertaining than venality, desperation, and hypocrisy?.

Abele also writes for Premiere, Variety, and the Los Angeles Times.

Find previous Advocate coverage of both Chicago and Lou Harrison at www.advocate.com