Julia Fordham's voice is a deep, warm instrument, rich with deliberation. Her dark alto is as thick and androgynous as Alison Moyet's, but she doles it out smoothly in a cool jazz style reminiscent of Sade and informs it with a self-conscious ambition suggesting Joni Mitchell.

Of these, Mitchell is the more direct influence. Many of the songs on the British singer's debut LP unmistakably echo both the lushly exotic arrangements and the basic jazz-ballad form that marked Mitchell's Hissing of Summer Lawns-Hejira period. As on those LPs, unexpected touches are always popping up on Fordham's album, like an African vocal chorale in "Happy Ever After" or third-world percussion in "The Other Woman." Likewise, Fordham's verbal stance is as analytical and gender aware as Mitchell's. She has her forced moments, like "Happy Ever After," which somehow tries to align romantic disappointment with apartheid. But she's fully convincing in tracks like "Woman of the 80's," where she candidly admits to possessing more vulnerability than the times will allow.

Too bad the effect of all this is blunted by the murky production. One hopes next time she'll have a firmer, more precise sound to play off of. But for right now, Fordham holds considerable promise, offering both a point of view that piques and a voice that envelops. (RS 539)

JIM FARBER