Bobby Caldwell: Songs in the Key of Schmaltz

Graham Parker wrote a song in the late 1970s called “Pourin’ It All Out,” about the cathartic value of letting one’s deepest feelings go.

Bobby Caldwell must have missed it.

The essence of smooth during his pop-jazz concert at the Galaxy Concert Theatre on Saturday night, veteran crooner-songwriter Caldwell spent nearly two hours singing about the power and pitfalls of l-o-v-e. But there seemed to be so little real emotion beneath the slick surface that the show ended up a lightweight, unsatisfying affair.

Much of today’s breezy “adult contemporary music” is, like the popular Caldwell’s, designed to be pleasantly soothing and basically nonthreatening. A comfortable saxophone, a gently strummed guitar or some programmed orchestration complement would-be seductive vocals in an effort to create moods of relaxation and romance. Too often, though, the music gets stripped of such key elements as raw energy, risk and any sort of compelling edge.

There were signs early Saturday that Caldwell might break from the mold. True, the show started out with a couple of hollow ballads, but suddenly Caldwell was singing and his eight-member band was playing with seemingly newfound spirit and range. An inspired rendition of “Fools Rush In”--further jacked up by gospel-like harmonies from back-up singers Jean McClain and Leslie Smith--brought the packed house to its feet.

Such glory was fleeting, however. The only other high point all night would be Michael Lington’s consistently rewarding sax playing. More characteristic of the uninvolving concert was its seemingly endless stretch of unconvincing, sappy ballads. In song after song, Caldwell crooned and cried but never once conveyed enough ache or passion to make it count.

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His saccharine-laced approach even managed to turn such classics as “Walk On By” and “Let It Be Me” into torturous experiences. And, sitting on a stool, using the title cut from his 1991 release “Stuck on You” to serenade a young woman in the audience, he was so schmaltzy and contrived that he could have doubled for Barry Manilow.

Singing and playing guitar and keyboards throughout the concert, Caldwell never even unbuttoned the coat of his stylish double-breasted suit. I guess that might have been a little too risky.

In a 40-minute opening set, local singer-songwriter Niki Smart unveiled a promising brand of folk-based New Age musings. Smiling and confident, she gradually earned the audience’s approval with an airy, likable voice reminiscent of Edie Brickell’s and several literate, thought-provoking songs, typified by the moody, unsettling “Seems So Peculiar.”