Jimmy Cliff's initial impact last year, based upon his starring role in the film, The Harder They Come, and his work on its soundtrack LP, made it seem that he might come to be considered the best, or at least the most accessible to Americans, of the reggae singers. But the enormous expectations created by the movie have made his subsequent work—last year's Unlimited and this album—seem worse than it really is. Because Cliff is such a fine vocalist, even his worst efforts are listenable, but his initial promise has been marred by the uneven quality of much of the material he sings.

It was easy to see why Unlimited failed. Recorded for Warner Bros., it became trapped in the pitfall of that company's production mill, which has a pronounced tendency to reduce everything to a variant of Southern California pop. But hidden beneath the slickness were some good songs, and Cliff's voice was never less than engaging. If the album lacked a song as powerful as "You Can Get It if You Really Want," or as deeply felt as "Many Rivers to Cross," it gained impact through repeated exposure: The more you listened, the more you wanted to.

Struggling Man strays from reggae only once, on Dave Mason's "Can't Stop Worrying, Can't Stop Loving You," but it still isn't the breakthrough recording Cliff needs to become a major artist. Part of the problem is generic — reggae is the most exciting form of American pop in years, but it has a disturbing tendency to become just a musical formula—and part of it is that the songs here aren't great ones. "Let's Seize the Time," the worst, sounds like it was written by a Jesus freak trying to co-opt New Left rhetoric.

Interestingly, the songs Cliff wrote alone are the best. "Going Back West" is spiritual in the way that "Many Rivers to Cross" was, though its imagery is much more secular; "Struggling Man" has something of the life that made "You Can Get It" so great. Cliff may still be trying to reach a pop audience: The horns which punctuate the upbeat songs sound like an attempt to crossbreed reggae with Stax/Volt soul and an effort to disguise the instrumental thinness of reggae as well. But Cliff's instinct for melody and the alternately joyous and languid reggae beat still make this a most listenable album. When he sings like he means it—on "When You're Young" or "Those Good, Good, Old Days," for instance — and when the material is worthwhile, this album proves that the promise is still there. (RS 168)

DAVE MARSH