At school dances and such it was the custom for ten or a dozen smooth-faced young singers to array themselves on the stage during intermissions. This was the signal to head for the tall grass with your lady love. But now the Dunster Dunces have put out another record and we can all catch up on what was missed.

The twenty songs on the disc are about equally divided between the comic and the sentimental, with two tentative rock and roll numbers. The Dunces make swirling noises for the sentimental songs, and go bum-bum for the comic. Some of each group were written by Dunces, but this doesn't make much difference.

The most notable achievement is a ballad called Boston, one of Tom Lehrer's briefer efforts; it is a study of the subway system, which, for all its merits, will never displace the classic Charley on the MTA.

Equally notable is the disastrous rendition of the old music hall song Anne Boleyn ("With 'er 'ead tucked underneath 'er arm, She walks the London tower.") The Dunces have arranged the tune beyond recognition, and do not get the words across as well as they might.

Aside from these two, and the a capella rock and roll, all the songs are about equally bland. To be sure, it is better to be bland than abrasive; the Dunces are well coordinated, their entrances and pitch are good, and even the solos are, in the main, well handled. Their faults stem mostly from the inherent disadvantages of the form, and weak material.

Only the most ardent admirer of the Dunces, for example, will be eager to add to his record library a song whose punch line is,

"I'm getting impatient

To get more adjacent

To you."

But these admirers do exist, if the coy jacket notes are to be trusted. The rest of us had better stick to Palestrina or Muddy Waters, according to taste.