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Regina Belle is sure she's probably going to have to pay dues somewhere along the way.

So far, though, things have been easy. The sleek singer, who will be performing during the Budweiser Superfest at the Rosemont Horizon tonight, has had success handed to her on a gleaming silver platter. There never was a time when she was skittish in front of an audience, confused by career options or unsure of her ability to entertain the masses.

C'mon Regina, what gives?

"I grew up in Englewood, N.J. My mother and father sing in church. I started out singing in church. I went on the road with the Manhattans right after I left college."

Didn't anything happen between church and life in the limelight?

"Well, yes. I sang R & B and gospel with the Manhattan School of Music while I was still in high school. Then I went to Rutgers University for four years, then I went on the road with the Manhattans."

Uh-huh. Anything else?

"Someone at CBS Records heard me singing with the Manhattans and offered me a record contract."

Just like that?

"Just like that. I didn't really have to do anything but sing. I didn't even have a demo, no portfolio, no 8-by-10 glossy. It was a real Cinderella story."

No kidding.

It's not that Belle doesn't deserve her good fortune. She's the latest in a long line of stylish, expressive soul vocalists able to have her way with a ballad. Her voice swoops easily from soaring highs to vibrant, gutteral lows. She has, of course, been compared to Anita Baker. And Phyllis Hyman. And Whitney Houston.

"That's inevitable," said Belle. "People are always comparing me to other singers who tell stories with their voices. But if they really listen, they'll be able to tell the difference. I couldn't get anywhere with a sound that was exactly like someone else's."

Not only is Belle holding her own with some rather stiff competition, but she is doing so at just the right time. Having triumphed over a flurry of drum machines and overwhelming electronic interference, vocalists seem to be making a comeback.

"People have been gravitating more toward another sound, a technical, mechanical thing, but I don't think `the singer' was ever in danger," Belle said. "Fads come and go, but people in love will always need to hear someone sing about how they feel, and people who've been hurt need to listen to someone who's felt the way they do. As long as there's love, there will be ballad singers.

"I have a simple method for picking a song. It just has to reflect me. It has to be something I've experienced. I can't touch other people with it if it hasn't touched me."

Belle has played intimate cabarets (she appeared at George's in Chicago earlier this year) as well as larger venues such as the Horizon. As her popularity grows, it seems, the venues where she appears get larger and larger.

"I like singing in front of large groups, but so far that's meant being on a bill with someone else," she said. "When I sing in a smaller, more intimate club, I know that everyone there came specifically to see me. There's a magic about that."

Belle now makes her home in Cherry Hill, N.J., where she devotes a great deal of time to her 7-month-old daughter, Tiy ("she was named after King Tut's mom"). Because Belle sees giving up time with her family as the most difficult aspect of her career, Tiy often accompanies her on the road.

Her love of children goes even further. Three years ago, she created the All Stars Talent Show, which gives inner-city kids a chance to display their special talents to a large audience. Along with rappers Kool Moe Dee and MC Lyte, Belle sponsors the program, which will show on cable stations on Nov. 16.

"We just try to support them, to give them some wise words," said Belle. "We're not just telling them to `say no,' we're giving them a reason to do so.

"I've always been very strong about who I am, and the things I was and was not going to do. I try to express that to children, the way I'm going to express it to my own child. Until you know who you are, you have nothing to build on."

Jeffrey Osborne is not Whitney Houston. He will never be Whitney Houston. He has no desire to be Whitney Houston. And no matter how hard people might try to mold him, he will never become Whitney Houston.

With that said, one wonders why Osborne -- the lanky crooner who's been known to have his way with a warm, sensual ballad -- would want to be Whitney Houston in the first place.

"When I signed with Arista, the word on the street was that they were grooming me to be the next Whitney," he said. "It wasn't my idea. Folks expected me to be spouting catchy pop tunes all over the place. And I wanted to do what I could to guard against that. I've gone the pop route, and I didn't want to tamper with my basic identity. My soul is in my roots and my roots are in soul."

Obviously, Osborne got his way. "Only Human," his debut Arista effort, features music that's like a warm, slow back rub. Having cinched his place among contemporaries such as Luther Vandross, Freddie Jackson, James Ingram and Howard Hewett -- all men who've learned the advantage of being able to growl and coo in a single note -- Osborne has settled in for the long haul.

He'll show off a bit of this artistry when he performs at The Boston Globe Music Section/KISS 108 Holiday Party Concert (it's a mouthful, and it's at 8 p.m. Thursday at the World Trade Center), along with his buddy Ingram. "I've been asked to do the title cut from 'Only Human,' although I'll probably kick in with a couple of Christmas carols," he said.

It will be a homecoming of sorts for Osborne, who was raised in Providence. Born into a family of jazz fanatics (his father was a trumpet player, and all 11 siblings were devotees of Vaughan, McCrae and Eckstine), he began singing in local clubs at 13. Chaperoned by his mom, he lifted tunes from Sam Cooke, Jackie Wilson and Otis Redding, and became a regular at the Ebony Lounge, a New London, Conn., nightspot.

At 15, he taught himself to play the drums, and that proved to be the key to his eventual fame as a lead singer with the group LTD.

"They came through Providence, saw me playing at a local spot and asked me to come see their show," he said. "The night I showed up, their drummer got hauled off to jail for fighting outside the club. I walked in, and it was audition by fire."

Osborne joined LTD in 1970. Things were tough in the two years before the group scooped a record deal.

"We were living in a one-room apartment, starving, playing for admission fees," he said. "In '72, we signed a production deal with Jerry Butler's Foundation Records, which eventually led to our affiliation with A & M."

The members of the group took turns singing lead, but that changed with the 1975 release of the "Love to the World" album. Thanks to Osborne's smooth baritone on the classic "Love Ballad" and on the funky "Back in Love," he soon became LTD's focal point while writing more than 80 percent of the group's material.

But he soon grew restless. "The organizational structure of the group was set up just for the group," he said. "I couldn't have a publishing or production company, and every song I wrote was split 10 ways. The band didn't want to adjust, stretch out, or stray from the identity we'd created. When I expressed a desire to leave, the members said they didn't think I could make it on my own. That made my decision for me.

"I guess everyone dreams of going solo, but I didn't really want to leave the group. I was hesitant because no one really knew me. I was just the 'guy in LTD.' "

Osborne went solo with A & M in 1982. While he continued his black chart popularity with songs such as "I Really Don't Need No Light" and "We're Going All the Way," he achieved pop success with the sing-alongs "You Should Be Mine (The Woo Woo Song)" and "On the Wings of Love." With mainstream attention came gold and platinum albums, glitzy world tours and even a stint in Vegas.

Then he grew restless again.

"I'd been with A & M too long, for 17 years. The enthusiasm was dying out. They were satisfied with base sales, but they never took those little steps to sell more. They'd push one or two singles, when it was necessary to push four or five. So I went with Arista."

Arista's head honcho, Clive Davis, who's been called a "pop genius," didn't try to reinvent the wheel with Osborne. "When I signed, industry peers asked me, 'How far will pop with Arista take you?' but that hasn't been an issue at all," said the singer. "Clive and I agreed that the album should have a black sound. That didn't necessarily mean that we wouldn't hit the black charts. Plus, what is crossover, anyway? A great song is a great song."

There are lots of great songs on "Only Human," and all of them are stamped with Osborne's undeniable style. Listening to the ballads of silk and steam -- the title song is a particular standout -- it's easy to see why "men always tell me that when they can't find the words, they play my songs instead."

Most important, Osborne's soul shines through.

"This album was what I wanted to do, not what was expected of me," he said. "I can't function with my eyes on the charts, because every six months the groove changes. One day it's hiphop, the next it's jack swing. I can't change every time the groove changes, and it's easier for me to go with what I know.

"If I have another hit record, then that's icing on the cake. If I don't, I can't bang my head against the wall. People forget that even though they've fought hard for No. 1, there's nowhere to go from there but down."

FOR more than 200 years, ever since the arrival of the first Blacks in English America, Black American popular music has been the mainstream that defined all other tributaries.

During and after slavery, Black Americans clearly demonstrated their propensity for improvisation in the songs they sang and played. Thus was born, at the turn of the century, ragtime and the blues, from which jazz evolved. Rhythm & blues emerged during the 1940s, rock |n' roll during the '50s, soul in the '60s, and funk and disco music in the '70s.

In each case, White Americans were greatly influenced by the Black music of the day. Consequently, says Jack |the Rapper' Gibson, a veteran of the industry. Black music was copied and expanded by While Americans, and While artists became rich and famous for their imitations. Among the more glaring examples were Elvis Presley, the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. And some argue that the creative choreography of Motown artists set the standards for the entire industry.

Historical creativity repeated itself in the 1980s, when Black again fashioned a new musical form, this time rap. In the midst of urban decay and hopelessness, this creative expression was born of frustration with social ills. Nevertheless, the aggressive, vehement urban street poetry took the country by storm in the mid-80s, permeating - if not dominating - ratio, advertisements and movies. Before long, While suburban kids adopted the inner-city, hip-hop culture culture and music, and propelled rap into Top 40 prominence.

Rap's mass appeal is especially exemplified by M.C. Hammer, whose phenomenally successful Please Hammer Don't Hurt' em LP (10 million sold) has made rap a universal music form. Hammer's rhymes are enhanced with more R & B tracks than what is considered hard-core rap.

Gibson and others in the music industry say the crossover response to Hammer and other rappers like L.L. Cool J has made it possible for the success of White imitators like Vanilla Ice, whose debut was the first rap record to dominate pop charts. Just as jazz emerged from the blues, Teddy Riley's new jack swing has evolved from rap. Combining synthesized melodies with hip-hop riffs, new jack swing drops in raps lines alongside real lyrics.

The '80s also saw the emergence of a number of young jazz musicians, most notably trumpeter Wynton Marsalis, who is an aggressive advocate of jazz as America's original classical music. Remarkably, he has won Grammy Awards for both jazz and classical music.

In addition, reggae, Bob Marley's Jamaican creation, has pulsated its way into the heartbeat of American culture. As evidence, the hugely successful Reggae Sunsplash toured 52 cities this summer, drawing large, mostly-White audiences.

And Black entertainers like Whitney Houston, Anita Baker and Luther Vandross continue to draw massive crossover crowds with good, old-fashioned singing. It is quite common now for classic soulful crooners like Vandross - and more recently Johnny Gill - to ascend the pop charts just as fast as they do R & B. And Whitney Houston's exceptionally stirring rendition of the "Star Spangled Banner" has sold more then 50,000 copies, proving that, yes, even the 177 year-old national anthem can be a hit when enhanced with a little soul.

The widespread appeal of Black music has precipitated the rise of a number of non-Black recording artists with distinctly soulful sounds. Notable among them are Mariah Carey, Paula Abdul, New Kids On The Block, Michael Bolton, and George Michael.

In addition, White artists are extending their reach by recording with Blacks. Bonnie Raitt and John Lee Hooker won a Grammy for their "I'm In The Mood," as did Aretha Franklin and George Michael for "I knew You Were Waiting For Me." Linda Ronstadt has recorded several duets with Aaron Neville. And Michael McDonald teamed with Patti with Patti LaBelle for the memorable " On My Own."

The influence of Black creativity also is evident in gospel music, another Black American creation. Last spring Amy Grant, a White Christian music recording artist, dominated pop charts. Before the Winans - Marvin, Carvin, Michael and Ronald, as well as Bebe and Cece - redefined contemporary pop gospel, it was rare for a Whire religious artists to appear on pop charts. The Winans' pervasive influence also is indicated by the emergence of Take 6, the clean-cut but hip a cappella sextet that can be found on gospel, jazz, R & B and pop charts. Take Six's success has led to a great increase in the number of a cappella recordings from Black and White artists.

The newest Black-propelled trend in the industry is the rise of the super producer. Says Janine McAdams, a music columnist for Billboard: "These powerful producers are equally if not more important than the artist. They are creating definitive styles." As entrepreneurs, these young talents - emulating pioneer superproducer Quincy Jones - are heading their own labels and tapping new talent.

Prince, a prolific songwriter who has penned hits for dozens of major artists, has his Paisley Park label. Rolling Stone wrote, "Prince called the tune for pop music the '80s, imprinting his Minneapolis sound on an entire generation of musicians, both Black and White." Jimmy Jam Harris and Terry Lewis, the creative force behind Janet Jackson's success, now have their own label. Perspective. Altogether, Harris and Lewis have written 50 Top 10 R & B singles and 20 Top 10 pop hits. Another power production/songwriting team is L.A. Reid and Babyface Edmonds, who last spring launched LaFace Records in Atlanta.

One music insider says: "There is no White Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, no White L.A. and Babyface, no White Teddy Riley, no White Prince in the music industry. These young talents are affecting the overall musical style, as well as changing how the industry recruits and presents new talent."

With such an abundance of young Black talent, we can anticipate that Black creativity will continue to influence the direction popular music well take in the '90s and beyond.