Howard Jones composes catchy melodies, synthesizes sound with a refreshingly deft touch and sings in a pleasant, if unremarkable, tenor. But he isn't content to be a more-than-competent pop singer; no, he's a man with a mission, the self-actualized vegetarian prophet of optimism. Actually listen to his pop-psych lyrics and your head will be shaking – either in agreement ("He's right, you know") or disbelief ("How can a functioning adult be this naive?").

Not that HoJo's a complete Pollyanna. Producer Arif Mardin adds a dash of disco sophistication and funky punch to One to One: it's more direct and more gripping than Jones's first two LPs combined. Cuts like "You Know I Love You ... Don't You?" (the first single) and "Step into These Shoes" sparkle with the same layer of hip-hop gloss Mardin coated those Scritti Politti singles with. But where Scritti singer and lyricist Green wears his erudition flamboyantly, as he might an expensive suit, Jones dispenses reassuring wisdom benignly, like a professor in tweeds. If we were all just a bit more sensitive toward each other, Howard stresses again and again, the world wouldn't be such a vale of tears.

The snazzy horn arrangements and layered electrobeats on the uptempo tracks buoy his earnestness quite effectively. On "The Balance of Love (Give and Take)" he even berates a selfish lover ("It's as if you've never heard of give and take") and pulls off a surprisingly untwee-sounding falsetto on the subtly pulsating chorus. Jones's keyboard chops are impressive – he sounds almost manic on "Good Luck, Bad Luck," tossing off a weird Spike Jones-style piano solo – but the only musically adventurous moment here is the disastrously white reggae of "Give Me Strength." And to my callous ears, synthesized pining like "Will You Still Be There?" sounds chilly and damp.

The album's intended pièce de résistance is the antidrug ballad "Little Bit of Snow," a voice-and-piano cry in the darkness that's both haunting and a little maudlin. (Although hardly pointless, it seems rather ponderous compared to the bitter poignancy of Neil Young's "The Needle and the Damage Done.") Above all, Howard Jones means well. Whether or not his songs mean anything beyond that depends on where the listener's coming from. (RS 488)

MARK COLEMAN