RESERVOIRS OF EMOTION

By CHRISTOPHER JOHN FARLEY

IT HAS HAPPENED TO everybody. You hear a great single on the radio, so you buy the album. But, to your disappointment, the catchy single turns out to be the only listenable tune on it; the rest of your newly purchased $14.99 CD sounds like outtakes from The Bee Gees Anthology.

That won't happen with Groove Theory. The New York City-based alternative R.-and-B. duo, composed of producer-instrumentalist Bryce Wilson and singer-lyricist Amel Larrieux, have a hit (their sweetly insinuative single Tell Me has sold more than half a million copies), and, happily, the rest of their debut CD, titled simply Groove Theory (Epic), amply lives up to that first smash.

The album is a restrained affair, with reservoirs of emotion. Larrieux's voice is a placid soprano with an intriguing hint of hidden hurt. "I knew I couldn't fit into a Whitney Houston mode," says the laid-back Larrieux. Instead, her voice evokes the gently aching style of Sade, or Beth Gibbons of the British band Portishead. The songs here are similarly subdued and flow casually along, like the wistful Hey U and the jaunty Ride. Occasionally, however, they take on harsh subjects such as crack addiction, as on the softly funky 10 Minute High. "Everybody tells her to stop," sings Larrieux. "She would try/ But nobody gave her a good reason why."

The melodies are not overwhelming or aggressive. Most of the work is done by the moody atmospherics that surround the central tune: intermittent but well-used keyboards, sporadic background vocals, a distant but assured bass. This is a mature, well-crafted debut.