Half vocals, half instrumental—a sharp split that keeps the album from settling into easy listening comfort.
Do-Re-Mi opens with a specific kind of softness: Pete Jolly's piano and Bob Cooper's clarinet moving through Styne's melodies with restraint and taste. The album doesn't swing hard or announce itself. Instead it sits in a middle space between Broadway sophistication and jazz intimacy, with strings and woodwinds—Bud Shank on alto flute, Jack Nimitz on baritone sax, Buddy Collette on bass clarinet—filling the air around June Christy's voice. She sings with her usual control and detachment, never overselling the material, which suits these tunes fine.
The record's real structure is its gamble. Half the album is Christy singing, backed by Cooper's group. The other half flips the arrangement: Cooper leads an instrumental ensemble, mostly different personnel, through the same material. This split is the album's honest spine. The vocal tracks are pleasant and professional—Christy does what she does, and the arrangements support her without pushing. But the instrumental side, with Shelly Manne or Mel Lewis on drums and a fuller horn section including Conte Candoli and Frank Rosolino, has more air and more personality. Cooper's clarinet leads from the front here, and the tunes get room to breathe.
This isn't a landmark session or a peak moment for either artist. It's a competent, occasionally engaging jazz treatment of a Broadway score, made quickly and with good sidemen. The split format keeps it from feeling like an album of anything in particular, which is both its limitation and what makes it worth hearing—you get two approaches to the same material, and neither one insists it's the only way.