Watchout. Patti Labelle and the Bluebelles are back and they haven't sounded this good since their 1962 funk hit, "I Sold My Heart to the Junkman." The group has pared down its name–neatly stepping out of that old image–and its number (former Bluebelle Cindy Birdsong replaced Florence Ballard as a Supreme, leaving a tight trio: Patti, Nona Hendryx and Sarah Dash) and emerged as one of the best new groups this year. No longer the girls in sequined spaghetti-strapped gowns who did dramatic, unexpectedly thrilling versions of "You'll Never Walk Alone" and "I Believe" in Murray the K's Brooklyn Fox concerts, Labelle now breaks loose on the most satisfying fusions of rock and R&B heard anywhere.

If their album takes some getting into, it's entirely worth the time. Patti has a strong and daring voice. It's style is rougher, harder, almost strident at times and certainly less graceful than say, Aretha Franklin's, but she more than makes up for what she lacks in sweet perfection with the robustness and force of her work. Hendryx and Dash, rather than being restricted to the old formula of injecting that touch of background sweetness to complement the lead, are allowed their own toughness and the resulting interaction is marvelous.

Labelle's version of "You've Got a Friend," a song so overexposed that any new interpretation would seem grossly superfluous, overturns negative expectations to be one of the most successful cuts on the album. It begins predictably mellow but gradually picks up and takes on power from Patti's shouting, driving lead and the steady uplift of the chorus. Their chugging delivery of the line, "I'll come runnin', runnin', runnin', runnin' to see you again," transforms the whole song with soulful conviction. Jagger-Richard's "Wild Horses" undergoes a similar, equally effective reworking. Patti sings each line with a boldness and vitality that lends a new strength to the pledge. "Wild horses couldn't drag me away" ("No way," she adds). She caresses the words with a huskily breathy voice or tears into them with a passion, filling the songs with emotion and energy.

The other remakes the gospel-turned-heartaches song, "Heart Be Still"; a sassy, nasty number from Ten Wheel Drive called "Morning Much Better"; an excellent fusion of "Running out of Fools" and "If You Gotta Make a Fool of Somebody"–are all just as fine. (An exception: Laura Nyro's "Time & Love," is merely bearable and bouncy here.) Labelle's own compositions are lyrically successful to widely varying degrees ("Shades of Difference" still eludes me) but each has some irresistibly attractive quality that grabs hold in time. "Baby's Out of Sight" is my favorite: a great rocking heartbreak song that Patti sings with aching ferocity. Closing the album is a beauty of a neo-spiritual, "When the Sun Comes Shining Through (the Ladder)," brilliantly arranged (here, as throughout, by Labelle herself) and full of rich group vocals, the most impressive on the record.

When the singing's this good, you hardly notice the instrumental work. It's a compliment to the musicians among whom are guest stars Al Kooper. Buzzy Linhart and Rascal Gene Cornish and the production work of Kit Lambert and Vicki Wickham that the music itself is nearly invisible it's that good. It doesn't come up and smack you in the face with horns and banked violins, but when you stop to notice it, everything's perfectly, reliably right there. (RS 93)

VINCE ALETTI