New Pop Records

Don't Explain (Jeri Southern; Decca). One event in the he-she cycle that is very rarely explored in pop tunes: the philanderer's return. Songstress Jeri Southern gives it a fairly heart-wrenching onceover in a plain but expressive voice, while in the background a baritone sax cries hoarsely.

Glenn Miller Army Air Force Band (Victor 5 LPs). A whopping album of eye-misting nostalgia for any veteran of jitterbugging in Europe, short-waving in the Pacific, or lonely stargazing at home during World War II. The 57 numbers contain productions large and small of favorite tunes of the day, broadcast by one of the silkiest bands ever collected.

Heartbreak Hotel (Elvis Presley; Victor). A new singer with a new twist: a double voice that alternates between a high, unpleasant quaver, reminiscent of Johnnie Ray at his fiercest, and a rich basso that might be smooth if it were not for its spasmodic delivery. Heartbreak Hotel, yelps the high voice, is where he's going to get away from it all. Answers the basso: he'll be sorry.

Help Me (Vic Damone; Columbia). This title sounds as if it belonged to a screamer, but the tune turns out to be a rather pleasant and intimate plea: "Don't just stand there and stare, help me." Damone sells it smoothly right up to the end, where he can't resist peddling a raucous note.

The Hi-Lo's Under Glass (Starlite LP). Just about the most virtuoso vocal quartet on records, singing a dozen far-out arrangements of those oldies. Some of the music, e.g., Through the Years, is strictly barbershop, of the brush-cut variety. More, e.g., Birth of the Blues, I'm Beginning to See the Light, has a beguiling touch of lunacy.

Mountain High, Valley Low (Helen Merrill; Mercury). A vaguely Oriental-sounding ditty that exudes a melancholy charm and makes little attempt to make sense, e.g., "If you need me, I will be near by; mountain high, valley low.''

New Solos by an Old Master (Joe Sullivan, piano; Riverside LP). A Chicago jazzman of the old school plays old favorites, from I Cover the Waterfront to Gin Mill Blues, with a gentle fervor.

See You Later, Alligator (Bill Haley; Decca). Rock 'n' roll rhythm in full cry, primitive to the point of idiocy. The title is warmed-over jive talk; the response: "After a while, Crocodile."

Take Your Time with Me, Lover (Joyce Bradley; Mercury). A voice of sanity in a live-for-tonight era. The gal pleading for a slower pace may be a dull date, but she's the kind to make the right guy happy.

Tender Trap (Pablo Beltran orchestra; Victor). A high-swinging version of a low-swinging tune, recorded, of all places, in Mexico. The band sounds something like the old Lunceford band, with its happy-go-lucky saxes, its smooth trombones and its nice beat, but adds its own modern flavor.

Tutti Frutti (Pat Boone; Dot). Most of the lyrics are composed of the title phrases plus the syllables "aw rootie," a tune written to .be sung by a virile but slack-jawed male.

What's Right for You (Lena Home; Victor). Lena's all aquiver about Topic A, agog with its possibilities, awash with its goodness. The tune is dressed up by some suggestive pianistic titters.

A Woman in Love (Barbara Lea; Riverside LP). Eight songs about the tender passion, sung in a jazz environment. Songstress Lea, whose voice is half sweet, half smoky, sings with the wistful perceptiveness of a young Lee Wiley.

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