Pop Records

Swinging Dors (Diana Dors; Columbia). In her first album, British Cinemactress Dors, who is best known as a platinum-haired prowline, demonstrates surprisingly that she is also a singer. Equipped with a clear, flexible voice and a natural knack for phrasing, she works her way with equal ease through ballads (Imagination) and rhythm songs (Come By Sunday), giving all of them a raffish and rueful charm.

Tell Laura I Love Her (Ray Peterson; RCA Victor). The newest and by all odds the sickest of the sick teen-age songs describes a young driver who enters a stock-car race to get money for a wedding ring and. as he is slowly dying in flames, warbles: "Tell Laura I love her/Tell Laura I need her/Tell Laura not to cry/My love for her will never die." With Singer Peterson bleating expressively through his tears, the record looks uncomfortably like a top seller.

Ping Pong Percussion (Chuck Sagle and his Orchestra; Epic). Bandleader Sagle has a lot of fun with timbales. tamtams, glockenspiels, marimbas, etc., in a record clearly pitched to the neophyte stereo addict. For the most part, the fun is more in the studio than in the speaker, but in some of the more fanciful numbers --Make Love to Me, High Society--the band crackles with a kind of auditory wit that suggests Spike Jones gone highbrow.

Southern Scene (Dave Brubeck Quartet, Trio and Duo; Columbia). Brubeck and men, in warm and witty mood, return to the folk materials they have examined so successfully before. Brubeck contributes some quietly capering choruses to When It's Sleepy Time Down South and Jeannie With the Light Brown Hair. Alto Saxophonist Paul Desmond offers a fine, wistful solo in Southern Scene, and the whole group swings with a loose, happy-holiday feeling.

Like Love (Andre Previn and Orchestra; Columbia). Composer - Arranger-Pianist Previn offers some familiar thoughts (Love Is Here to Stay, I Wish I Were in Love Again) wrapped in a cobwebby basket of strings. The best thing about the record is Previn's own piano playing, which comes across dry, witty, and with a feeling for mood and invention that never falters.

Cathy's Clown (Everly Brothers; Warner Bros.). All about a chippie named Cathy who treats her rejected suitor so scurvily that he feels like a $50-a-week circus performer. The delivery of the Brothers Everly is, if possible, more adenoidal than ever, but their righteous bleats have placed Cathy well ahead of Elvis at the top of the charts.

Greenfields (the Brothers Four; Columbia). "Where," say the brothers with a quaver, "are the greenfields that we used to roam?" The answer is they are right there in the jukeboxes, where they are providing the brothers with one of the most durable hits to come along in many a month. The sound on this teary disk suggests nothing so much as four spooks whispering in a sarcophagus.

Can-Can and Anything Goes (Benny Carter and Hal Schaefer; United Artists). A hipster's eye view of Cole Porter. Alto Saxophonist Carter and Pianist Schaefer romp exuberantly, with the aid of assorted sidemen. through I Love Paris, Anything Goes, You're the Top, transforming these Broadway classics into a crackling bed of hot Coles. Arranger Schaefer's most improbable invention: a version of C'est Magnifique opening with a snatch of the Lohengrin wedding march.

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