Dane Donohue

A handsome singer-songwriter who made a late debut in his early thirties, Donohue appeared with a shaded, sorrowful presence beneath the glamour. His songs come close to those of producer Terence Boylan, holding the mood of a more sophisticated Eric Kaz—or perhaps that is merely the appeal of his bittersweet dandyism. A finely accomplished talent with a blue-eyed soul quality that could stand alongside Bobby Caldwell, he disappeared after this single album. That, too, may have suited his role.

With guitar interplay from Larry Carlton, Jay Graydon and Steve Lukather, a fine supporting cast including Steve Gadd, Chuck Rainey and Victor Feldman, and choruses by Don Henley, Timothy Schmit and Stevie Nicks, this is an impeccable adult-contemporary record. Its wistful scenes mingle chilliness with womanly grace, as though the California sky's blue and Manhattan's seductive nights shared the same room. When its crossover tendency comes to the fore, there are even moments of Steely Dan-like atmosphere.