There have probably been pop stars less likely than Rick Astley, the ninety-eight-pound crooner with the Charles Atlas voice, but offhand, it's hard to think of any. Though he still looked like the office boy he once was, there was no denying the power he radiated when applying his big baritone voice to the sinfully catchy melodies of dance numbers like "Never Gonna Give You Up" and "Together Forever." Astley, obviously, was a woofer in tweeter's clothing.

Or so it seemed. With his second album, Hold Me in Your Arms, it's hard not to wonder if steroids, not genuine muscle power, were the secret to Astley's debut. Sure, each chorus is relentlessly melodic, while the beat remains as belligerent as ever, but somehow the magic is missing.

As is usually the case with dance music, most of the blame lies with the producers. The Stock-Aitken-Waterman team (which handled Astley's debut) deliver as expected on "Till Then (Time Stands Still)," and Astley and Daize Washbourn slip an engaging swagger into "I Don't Want to Be Your Lover," giving the album two solid, if unexceptional, dance tracks. But none of the singer's other productions, from the pugnacious "She Wants to Dance with Me" to the perfunctory "Dial My Number," offers anything in the way of sizzle, much less substance. And as for Astley's presumptuous approach to "Ain't Too Proud to Beg," well ... David Ruffin he ain't, and proud he shouldn't be. (RS 548)

J.D. CONSIDINE