O.C. POP MUSIC REVIEW : Abdul Squeaks by on Own Power : The engaging performer overcomes technical glitches caused by earthquakes, but she isn’t always able to master her music.

Paula Abdul is on her first tour as a headliner, and it looks as if she has already mastered one classic show business concept: The show must go on.

Despite the pair of powerful earthquakes that had rocked the Southland earlier in the day, Abdul’s Sunday night performance at the Pacific Amphitheatre went off as scheduled.

However, when she failed to emerge as scheduled--on cables from a lighted trap door at the start of the show--it became apparent that it would not go off without a hitch.

“We have no power,” the singer/dancer explained as she was helped out of the pit. (The trouble with highly choreographed, technologically bound shows is that when something goes wrong it can really go wrong.) “But we’ll just keep on going!” She launched into “Spellbound,” the title track from her second album, barely missing a beat.

Luckily, there was enough post-earthquake power to fuel most other aspects of Abdul’s show. But one got the sense that she would have coped even if she’d had to perform by candlelight.

Apparently, even ex -Laker cheerleaders don’t like the idea of defeat.

Abdul, it can be noted right up front, is not much of a singer. Her voice is powerful but has an annoying nasal quality that can cause her literally to squeak in the upper registers (and, more than occasionally, in the middle and lower ones as well). On Sunday night it sounded even rougher around the edges than usual--the victim, no doubt, of extended touring and an absence of studio mechanics.

But, like Madonna and other modern pop divas, Abdul is a package deal. And on this tour, the package largely works. After starting out with the Lakers, Abdul went on to choreograph music videos for such acts as the Jacksons before becoming a performer herself. Her biggest plus in the concert arena is that she knows crowds, and how to orchestrate a performance that appeals to the masses.

She even knows when to pull back . . . a bit, anyway. The temptation for many performers who employ eight dancers on tour, as Abdul does, would be to use them all in as many numbers as possible. Abdul certainly gets her money’s worth out of her chorus line, but she is also savvy enough to send them all away for a couple of songs following the big, glitzy, show-biz opener, so as not to overplay her hand early on.

All 12 of the songs Abdul sings on this tour (including “Forever Your Girl” as an encore) are from her two albums, so there wasn’t a whole lot of stretching going on musically Sunday night, despite the physical gymnastics.

The best numbers tended to be the funkiest, when Abdul’s vocal limitations could get lost in the rhythmic beats and MTV-like choreography (not to mention the muddy mix of an overzealous six-piece band).

“Vibeology,” which featured a chorus of dancers in “Alice in Wonderland”-style dress, was playful and infectious. The Prince-penned “U,” though not nearly so scandalous as it might have been performed by the Purple One himself, was sultry in a sort of PG-rated way, featuring lots of black-leather biker outfits and steamy lighting.

As they either were straight rip-offs of Abdul’s music video choreography or homages to other artists’, several numbers might have appeared fresher to folks who don’t own a TV set (a minute percentage, it’s safe to assume, of this largely MTV-weaned crowd, which stretched back to the upper reaches of the lawn).

“The Way That You Love Me,” for instance, seemed to be Abdul’s ode to Madonna: It featured a “Material Girl”-style bevy of male objects to be toyed with. And “Cold-Hearted” was an almost step-for-step clone of Abdul’s own video, minus a good deal of the writhing and stage humping that she apparently deems acceptable for television but not for live performances.

Worst were her forays into ballad territory, where her voice and the sometimes schlocky choreography were at their most naked. During “Rush Rush,” though, the band pulled back enough for listeners to hear some nice guitar chords, and during “Will You Marry Me?” the newlywed Abdul (she recently married actor Emilio Estevez) engaged in some playful banter with the audience. (“I don’t have to sing that song anymore if I don’t want to. Did I hear a boo?”)

And if Abdul ever gets tired of touring, she can always get a job at Disneyland, where her hokey antics to the strains of “Opposites Attract” with the likes of MC Skat Kat and other costumed and cartoon characters no doubt would go over big.

Most of the time, though, Abdul is an engaging performer, still very much the cheerleader, a dynamo with a winsome smile whom you just can’t help but like. Let’s give her an “A” . . . for Adorable, at the very least.

The show opened with a set by Color Me Badd, the vocal quartet from Oklahoma that struck radio gold with its debut album, “C.M.B.”

Since the group has only that album to draw from, it shouldn’t be surprising that much of its hourlong set was insubstantial filler, sandwiched between such hits as “All 4 Love,” “I Adore Mi Amore,” “Thinkin’ Back” and “I Wanna Sex You Up.” CMB needs to work on its stage presence, or maybe to seek help in tightening its choreography. Preferably both.

Evidently taking its cues from New Kids On the Block, CMB tends to put its bravado where its mouths are, engaging in forced stage rap sessions and too-cool philosophizing when it should be performing. A lot less talk and a lot more singing might help balance the hunk hip-hop image that this group seems to be cultivating.

But CMB seems content to bathe its genuinely appealing doo-wop-style harmonies in a sea of corn and commercial trappings. Add to that a seven-piece backing band whose only real interest seems to be in launching prolonged sonic blasts, the likes of which are better executed on “Wayne’s World,” and you have the makings of a fairly interminable set.

Admittedly, the MC Hammer-like dance moves and pelvic grinds that CMB members execute frenetically have their appeal. But on virtually every song? Even here, a little restraint wouldn’t hurt.

Besides, how seriously can you take a group whose members refer to themselves as “Treat No. 1,” “Treat No. 2” . . . you get the idea.