Diamond continues his stripped-down deliveries of songs on an album of covers and reinterpretations. It's mostly just him and one or two accompanying instruments that play subservient to his voice. Half of it hits its target with pathos and a gravitas that leaves me breathless, but the other half has me hovering my finger over the skip button. Covers albums are often a semi-waste of time, but when they're good it justifies its existence; mostly Dreams does just that.
3½ singing in the dead of night out of 5