Marshall Crenshaw may well be the most frustrating major talent of the Eighties. His 1982 debut, Marshall Crenshaw, showed incredible promise, demonstrating in a dozen songs just how much wit, melodic craft and vocal ability this singer/songwriter could muster. It's been downhill from there, though, first with Field Day and now with his third album, Downtown. Granted, many of Field Day's problems can be laid at the feet of producer Steve Lilly-white, but Downtown stumbles on its own, in large part because Crenshaw seems unable to energize either his material or his performance.

From the first, the album seems strangely subdued. Although careful listening turns up a number of memorable melodies, the listener almost has to seek them out; nothing leaps out of the speakers with the aggressive confidence of, say, "Cynical Girl" or "Someday, Someway." Instead, Crenshaw plods along complacently, robbing "Right Now" of its immediacy and rendering his search for his "Little Wild One (No. 5)" disappointingly tame. That lack of electricity may be the fault of the studio sidekicks rounded up by producer T-Bone Burnett, for despite the occasional name player, Crenshaw's backing is fairly anonymous.

Mostly, though, it's the writing that fails him, for Crenshaw's compositional skill has made his songs utterly facile. "The Distance Between," for example, wends its way along an interesting chord progression and makes efficient use of Crenshaw's impeccable backing harmonies. Trouble is, that technical polish is about all the song has to recommend it; the melody is completely forgettable. That's not to say that Downtown is a complete loss – "Terrifying Love" is hauntingly melodic, while "I'm Sorry (but So Is Brenda Lee)" is drolly endearing – but there's enough wrong with this record to leave almost any fan wondering if Marshall Crenshaw will end up, as one of the songs here puts it, "Like a Vague Memory." (RS 460)

J.D. CONSIDINE