(Translated from my original Italian text by ChatGPT and Piero Scaruffi)
Marshall Crenshaw, a singer-songwriter raised in the suburbs of Detroit, quickly established himself in the field of 1960s revival with a style inspired by Buddy Holly and reminiscent of the folk-rock of Tom Petty, but marked by a more cheerful and optimistic attitude and a more pronounced melodic talent.
Marshall Crenshaw (WB, 1982 - Rhino, 2007) is exemplary in its immaculate purity: Someday Someway (the quintessence of the merseybeats steady, chiming refrain), Cynical Girl (a typical Spector-style sound driven by handclaps and guitars), the Mexican-flavored Brand New Lover (in the style of La Bamba) and the boogie She Can't Dance together form the most faithful catalogue of thirty years of rock melody, from rockabilly to surf, from beat to psychedelia, from Tamla soul to Nashville country. These were the principles already laid out in his first single, Something's Gonna Happen (1981).
After an album, Field Day (WB, 1983), marred by unnecessarily pompous arrangements (though it includes Whenever You're On My Mind, Favorite Waste Of Time, and above all the slightly psychedelic Our Town), Crenshaw continued along that Buddy Holly vein, achieving less ambitious but more immediately catchy results: Distance Between, Life's A Vague Memory, Yvonne and Little Wild One on Downtown (WB, 1985), and Somebody Crying, Calling Out For Love and Mary Jean on Mary Jean & 9 Others (WB, 1987). A great craftsman of pop in the Brill Building tradition, Crenshaw had the misfortune of being born in an era in which he had to record albums rather than simply sell his songs. His melodic gift has few rivals, but the execution is almost always entrusted more to the producers flair than to his own.
The authorial covers on Good Evening (WB, 1989) perhaps testify to a moment of crisis.
(Original English text by Piero Scaruffi)
It took four years for Marshall Crenshaw to return with an all-original album,
and Life's Too Short (WB, 1991) turned out to be a faithful continuation
of his modest saga: Somewhere Down The Line is one of his most memorable
refrains, while Fantastic Planet Of Love is one of his most sophisticated
pop numbers, and Better Back Off and Don't Disappear Now are
the old Crenshaw fare.
Unfortunately five more years would have to go by before another studio
work appeared. The live
My Truck Is My Home (Razor & Tie, 1994)
and the single he wrote for the Gin Blossoms,
Til' I Hear It From You (1995),
were mere appetizers. And unfortunately even
Miracle Of Science (Razor & Tie, 1996) was full of covers, not what one expects
from the pop songsmith he is.
His jangly guitar pop finds new avenues of discovery on
#447 (Razor & Tie, 1999): the highlights are not the usual catchy
ditties, but the instrumentals. Crenshaw pens wordless tunes that tell warm,
intimate stories (Eydie's Tune, You Said What), as in a
less countrified Leo Kottke, and paints atmospheric, jazzy frescoes like
a more urban Ry Cooder (West of Bald Knob).
What's in the Bag (Razor & Tie, 2003) is a rather depressed set of
songs (possibly inspired by the September 11 terrorist attacks) that starts
with Will We Ever and continues downhill (psychologically speaking)
with Alone in a Room, Where Home Used to Be,
A Few Thousand Days Ago. Even the occasional acceleration
(The Spell Is Broken, From Now Until Then) sounds subdued.
Jaggedland (2009)
