Roddy Frame, the Scottish singer/songwriter behind Aztec Camera, has always been precocious: By 17, he was recording New Wave folk with the verbal sophistication of a baby Wordsworth; by 23, he had reinvented himself as a slick blue-eyed soul man from the Northlands; and now, before hitting 30, he's fallen into the middle-aged quagmire of irrelevance.

That's not to say that Dreamland, his fifth studio album, isn't worth a listen. In fact, it's full of the subtle grace and gorgeous songcraft that's marked his work all along. It's just unclear whether this boy wonder's hopelessly romantic Brit pop, lost in a no man's land between R&B and adult rock, still has a place in a postmodern world, in which cynics are the arbiters of taste and wide-eyed idealists are scoffed at. After a sniff of "Teen Spirit," is there any patience for lines like "Now that her smile has stuck/I cannot go back to your frownland"?

But if you can swallow Frame's relentlessly positive outlook, the poetry is often beautiful. In "Spanish Horses," for example, the words and music shine as castanets click to a furious rush of flamenco guitars: "Her eyes like Spanish horses danced alive as language died.... And the lights danced on the water ... like Spanish horses."

Unlike the uncharacteristically rocking Stray (1990), Dreamland looks back to earlier albums, blending the folk and jazzy guitars of the band's debut High Land, Hard Rain (1983) with the soulpop rhythm sections of Love (1987). The mix works best on "Birds," where a steady midtempo groove is maintained over wandering acoustic guitar lines and airy synths. "Vertigo" and "Sister Ann" display Frame's ability to construct songs that build up and swoop down at just the right moment, while the countryish "Pianos and Clocks" offers a pleasant, though hardly radical twist.

Frame's music is inspiring at its best, saccharine at its worst. But even at its most painful, there is always a sense that this guy really means what he's singing. And the importance of being earnest – especially when it may be all you have left – should not be underestimated. (RS 666)

RONI SARIG