Forget the daughter-of-big-star hype and, for that matter, the comparison to daddy; Natalie Cole is no sexpot-cum-no-talent à la Nancy Sinatra nor is she a supper-club crooner à la Nat King Cole in his last years. On the contrary, Natalie Cole is a gifted soul stylist in the mold of Aretha Franklin. And with the help of producers Chuck Jackson (a veteran of the early Sixties with hits like "I Don't Want to Cry" and "Any Day Now") and Marvin Yancy (a mainstay on the Chicago soul scene), she has crafted a nearly flawless first disc.

The secret of Inseparable is its restraint. At a time when hysterical shrieking and moog madness pass for innovation in much of soul, Jackson and Yancy have fashioned a neoclassical record of contemporary love songs by taming wah-wah riffs with their own lyrical good sense.

All of the material is original, penned by the producers, and Natalie Cole executes their tunes with facility and flair. While she has yet to evolve a wholly distinctive approach — some of her vocal calisthenics recall Chaka Khan (as on "How Come You Won't Stay Here")—her versatility and command of technique make a winning match for Jackson and Yancy.

One of the keys to the record's success is the Chicago studio band. For example, the cooking guitar-and-horn tracks on "How Come You Won't Stay Here" help that cut transcend the conventions of bar-band funk favored by the likes of Rufus. The arrangements, by Richard Evans, Jackson and Yancy, are similarly apt; lush without being obtrusive, the charts play off snappy brass against swooping strings (often cellos and basses). Although the prominent use of gospel piano evokes Aretha, the result is refreshingly distinctive, eschewing the gloss of current disco orthodoxy.

Every cut reflects a concern for conciseness: While the producers have tackled a wide variety of material, from breath ballads like the title tune to full-tilt dance items like "Needing You," no song lasts over three-and-a-half minutes. Throughout, there is a pleasing attention to detail that sustains the record over repeated listenings.

Finally, Inseparable contains one killer cut, "This Will Be." A three-minute blitz taken at a charging lope, the track is introduced by handclaps and striding gospel piano. The song's main body, laced with electric piano and a marvelous horn line, has Cole shouting the lyrics, seconded by a chorus on the refrain; after a central break builds tension with a stuttering guitar obbligato, Cole, overdubbed, takes the track out triumphantly.

Here as elsewhere, it's easy to mistake Cole for Aretha. But there's one big difference: Aretha Franklin hasn't cut a record this good in years. (RS 199)

JIM MILLER