I’m not saying Lynne doesn’t care about what she’s doing here. There’s a great deal of respect for Springfield, and after a spate of albums she herself wasn’t happy with, Just a Little Lovin’ (the idea for the project was suggested to her by Barry Manilow, whom she met at an awards function a few years back) seems Lynne’s way of returning herself to priorities. It’s pleasant and listenable and well-crafted. But damned if I can say why it was made.

Sometimes, not putting on a show can be the biggest show of all. Lynne’s wordless humming and her abrupt and extended pauses on the title track (which opens the album) seem planned to make us think that the performances are spontaneous. There are moments where the moody undersinging she does makes your own memory of Dusty’s voice fuzzy, as if its particular qualities were blurring in your mind’s ear.

That might work to Lynne’s advantage here, because when you do recover the differences, the contrast between her sullen mopiness and Dusty’s open heartbreak doesn’t work in her favor. The soul has been knocked out of “Breakfast in Bed,” the special combination of eroticism and sorrow out of the title song. (You can’t blame Lynne for not matching “The Look of Love,” the greatest pillow-talk song of all time.)

It gives me no pleasure to find Just a Little Lovin’ wanting. Lynne has taken some tough knocks in her career, and it’s nicer than I can say to listen to a pop album without one trace of goddamn melisma anywhere. And if Dusty Springfield is Lynne’s idea of a singer deserving homage, then I’m not about to fault her taste. But she expresses no particular warmth toward the original material, no fan’s enthusiasm, no urge to re-create the music, or remake it, or test herself against it. How do you sing “I Only Want To Be with You” with no exuberance?

CAT POWER | Orpheum Theatre, 1 Hamilton Place, Boston | February 7 | 617.931.2000