September 12, 1983 12:00 PM

Marshall Crenshaw

The Detroit-born songwriter demonstrates in this second album that the muse has not left him. If there’s a problem with Crenshaw, it’s his over-reliance on nostalgic rock ‘n’ roll song forms, his penchant for repeating phrases and his inability to put much bite in his pining moon-and-June lyrics. But at their best, Crenshaw’s melodies—Our Town and For Her Love, say—spring at one’s ears in a distinctive way. His muse gives him access to an emotional button, and when he really hits it, he can give a nice shiver of pleasure.

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