A hit song can be a mixed blessing. The catbird seat atop the singes chart must be a satisfying (not to mention scary) perch, but imagine attaining it with someone else's song after releasing seven LPs of original material. How do you convince a devoted cult that said smash isn't a sellout, no matter how strongly it may recall Bitty Idol? And what happens to those new admirers when, seduced by a modest but irresistible come-on, they discover you are as hard to fathom as to forget? In Simple Minds' case, the hit single may be a bit misleading, but it's not necessarily misbegotten.

Reportedly, writer and producer Keith Forsey first offered "Don't You (Forget about Me)" to Bryan Ferry, who declined to record it. Unknowingly, the former leader of Roxy Music helped put the most promising of his musical progeny in a tricky position. Once upon a Time finds Simple Minds trying to have it both ways – building on that unexpected success without forsaking its base of supporters. The album contains neither a film-soundtrack tie-in nor the sort of sprawling dance-track epic that endeared this Scottish band to a generation of European teens and a clutch of American import-bin mavens. Instead, producers Bob Clearmountain and Jimmy "I Tamed Patti Smith" Iovine have harnessed singer Jim Kerr's emotionalism without slipping a noose around his neck and reined the band's expansiveness without limiting its reach.

Kerr's lyrics have always been ambitious, as a glance at Simple Minds' early album titles confirms: Themes for Great Cities, Sister Feelings Call, Sons and Fascination. Turn-of-the-decade British hits like "I Travel" and "The American" came close to providing a dance-floor foundation for Kerr's grand and occasionally grandiose sentiments, but it wasn't until 1982 and New Gold Dream (81-82-83-84) that sound and vision coalesced for Simple Minds. Producer Pete Walsh polished Mick MacNeil's multilayered keyboards and Charlie Burchill's clean, melodic guitar lines into a shimmering gloss that allowed Jim Kerr's skittish, semi-improvised vocal style to shine through.

After the peak of "Promised You a Miracle" – virtually a four-minute-long hook – Simple Minds looked ready to go the distance, but last year's Sparkle in the Rain was an uneven, frustrating affair. Tunes like "Up on the Catwalk" rocked with a new authority, but producer Steve Lillywhite flattened the band's textured sweep into a one-dimensional thud, obscuring some of Kerr's most impassioned singing to date. A support slot on the Pretenders' 1984 tour wasn't quite the breakthrough it could have been, and when Kerr's open-throated trill and that glistening wall of sound popped up during The Breakfast Club, it must have seemed an act of desperation to longtime fans.

An inherently hooky, formulaic number that probably could have been a hit for Michael Des Barres, "Don't You (Forget about Me)" still benefited from the stamp of Simple Minds. The way the tension quietly builds on that "Don't, don't don't" chorus is pure Kerr. If anything, achieving that long-awaited crossover at the hands of another writer may have relieved the band of some internal pressure after the fizzle of Sparkle. Right from the ringing guitar and synth salvos that introduce the title track, Once upon a Time resonates with the charged assurance of a group that knows it's firing its best shot. All the signature elements of its sound – carefully stacked keyboards, sweet, stinging guitar lines, shrewd manipulation of dynamics and space, a sensitive but driving beat – seem sharper and fresher than ever before. The new bassist, John Giblin, doesn't quite match the funky punch of his predecessor, Derek Forbes, but that hardly detracts from the most potent and focused set of songs Simple Minds has delivered yet.

Yes, songs. In the past the band's tunes have seemed more like overblown sketches or outlines, tottering towers of babble with no underlying sense or structure. There are a scant eight tracks here, but each is a relatively succinct, complete thought. Where it once busily undermined its impact with experiment for its own sake, Simple Minds has now refined its restlessness, underscoring its pop instincts on romantic melodramas like "Alive and Kicking" as well as on anthems like "Ghost Dancing" and "Oh Jungleland."

That last song does indeed genuflect at the altar of Saint Bruce, though more in spirit than in sound. It's a rocketlaunched riffer celebrating the tension and energy of urban life, but where the E Street Band would put the pedal to the metal, Simple Minds swerves on a synthesized ice slick, which sets off the ambiguity of the lyrics. The double-edged pleasures of life in a crumbling culture are evoked even more powerfully on "Ghost Dancing," between Kerr's wide-eyed observations and Burchill's nervous, propulsive strumming.

Like Springsteen, Jim Kerr finds hope in the face of economic decline: "Cities, Buildings falling down/Satellites come crashing down/I see them falling out the skies like eagles/All mirrored glass and shattered egos/But in a corner of the world we'd meet to laugh and drink and plan our sequels." The same song ends as two teenagers speed off in a Brucemobile, presumably bound for glory until Kerr concludes, "They all went to heaven in a stupid fantasy." If his utopianism has a cynical edge, perhaps it's because Glasgow is even farther down the chute than New Jersey.

Actually, that cynicism is surprising; Jim Kerr is the opposite of a world-weary snipe. Like any artist who reaches after people's deeper feelings and higher instincts, he treads a thin line between bravery and buffoonery. A fascinating live performer, he can often win over an indifferent audience through sheer force of personality and make a bloody fool of himself beseeching the already converted to "give me your honz" again and again. Though Once upon a Time isn't without its embarrassing moments (wish that line about "a kid called Hope" wasn't so damned catchy), it's all kept down to earth by a humility almost unheard of in this era of rampant ego. For all its earnestness and theatricality, Simple Minds never sounds self-important or bombastic. When Jim Kerr implores you to "Sanctify Yourself," it sounds more like a party invitation than a preachy dictum.

There's a subtle but specific undercurrent of Christian spirituality running through this album. It's more an acknowledgment of possible options than a true believer's fiery testimony, though. The idea of a spiritual presence comes up repeatedly on the title track ("You raise me up when I know you're around") and throughout "I Wish You Were Here." Now, Jim could just as easily be pining over a distant lover as planning for a returning messiah. Personally, I prefer to fuel pop-song fantasies with my own experience, but it's very easy to imagine the worldly-wise Chrissie Hynde and idealistic young Jim having the conversations quoted in between the stirring guitar licks on "All the Things She Said." Well, something's obviously amplified Jim Kerr's creative spark, be it God, a good marriage or just a golden opportunity. With a little luck, Once upon a Time will put Simple Minds' days as cult heroes behind them. (RS 461)

MARK COLEMAN