When Bruno Mars made it big a couple of years ago with his debut, “Doo-Wops & Hooligans,” the impeccably attired singer did it with such conclusive style that you never really thought about the effort he put into his image. In an era of amateur-driven “American”/”Voice”/”Factor” pop, here was a guy who seemed to have appeared fully formed one day: a pompadoured crooner in the tradition ofFrankie Lymon, yet remade with modern trimmings that appealed to a crowd raised on X-rated hip-hop and post-everything boy bands. His music felt just as precision-crafted: “Just the Way You Are” and “Grenade” propelled Mars to No. 1 on the singles chart, he sold 1.8 million albums and earned multiple nominations for Grammy Awards. It was a level of renown Mars had been aiming for since he moved to L.A. nearly a decade ago to pursue a solo career. Or at least that’s the way it seemed. “Becoming famous was never what I wanted to do,” he insists. “There’s a lot of things that come with fame — it’s what people in the limelight have to do. I’m like, ‘Can’t I just write and sing?’ ” On a recent visit to his Cape Cod-style home high in the Hollywood Hills, Mars, 27, looked dressed less for success than for hiding from it. Wearing rumpled jeans and an untucked T-shirt, his eyes shielded behind silver aviators, the usually dapper entertainer was due to fly to Sweden the next morning to promote his new sophomore disc. At the moment, though, he hardly seemed in the mood to talk himself up. “If people are going to have an idea of me,” he said, “I’d just want them to think of a guy who goes in the studio, works hard and jams out.””Unorthodox Jukebox,” which came out Dec. 11, gives a different impression of the man behind the choreographed moves, presenting a dramatic vision of love under siege by fame (“Young Girls”), fortune (“Natalie”), and his own tomfoolery (“When I Was Your Man”). Even relatively conflict-free tunes such as “Moonshine” and “Gorilla” — in which he invites a “dirty little lover” to bang on his chest like a great ape — exude a gritty desperation. It’s an unexpected shift in tone from an artist known initially as pop’s go-to good guy, an old-fashioned romantic doling out positive affirmations not long after he’d first appeared with ingratiating guest spots on B.o.B.’s “Nothin’ on You” and Travie McCoy’s “Billionaire.””I think people will be surprised by it,” said Philip Lawrence, one of Mars’ partners in his L.A.-based production crew, the Smeezingtons. “But it’s not for shock value — it’s telling a story, digging deeper into the feeling of what it means to become a celebrity.” CONTINUE READING…