ALLA PUGACHEVA'S MOODY, ARDENT SOVIET POP Review/Music LEAD: Alla Pugacheva is a woman of many voices - delicate pop chirps, a clear rock mezzo-soprano, dramatic cabaret growls and sobs. A pop superstar from the Soviet Union who has reportedly sold 150 million records, Mrs. Pugacheva wound up her first American tour with a sold-out concert at Carnegie Hall on Thursday night that offered a fascinating glimpse of mainstream Soviet pop. Alla Pugacheva is a woman of many voices - delicate pop chirps, a clear rock mezzo-soprano, dramatic cabaret growls and sobs. A pop superstar from the Soviet Union who has reportedly sold 150 million records, Mrs. Pugacheva wound up her first American tour with a sold-out concert at Carnegie Hall on Thursday night that offered a fascinating glimpse of mainstream Soviet pop. Mrs. Pugacheva tries to offer something for everybody, from rock and pop-funk to torchy ballads. The music, some of it written by Mrs. Pugacheva, looks westward for vocal styles, instrumentation (keyboards, electric guitars, trap drums), wardrobe, song forms and rhythms. The band uses up-to-date equipment: the same Japanese synthesizers seen around the world, along with a wireless microphone that both Mrs. Pugacheva and Igor Nikolaev (one of her songwriters, who made a cameo appearance) carried into the aisles as they sang. But even with American and European trappings, the songs have an unmistakable Slavic tone, conveyed not only by the hard consonants of the Russian lyrics but by a volatile, theatrical moodiness and the almost constant use of minor keys. Now and then a song would slow down and then quickly step up to double time like a Russian folk dance, rousing the staid audience to clap along. The core style, as for pop singers from America's Liza Minelli to Spain's Julio Iglesias to Israel's Ofra Haza, is the ardent ballad, with big crescendos and tearful interludes. For those songs, Mrs. Pugacheva becomes a singing actress with full theatrical presence; she can adopt an ingenue's sweetness or a flirt's jocularity or the world-weary gaze and throaty tone of Edith Piaf. In one song that seemed to progress from despair to joy, she poised her microphone like a wineglass, as if bitterly savoring every drop. The arrangements dipped into European cabaret waltzes and into all sorts of American pop, from Burt Bacharach-Hal David lilts to one song, ''The Horse Race,'' clearly indebted to Michael Jackson's ''Thriller''; Mrs. Pugacheva, summoning a look of terror, ended that song by running in place, waving desperately and collapsing to the stage. (Vladimir Presniakov, who sang three songs to open the concert, modeled his falsetto singing style on that of Mr. Jackson, and attemped a few of Mr. Jackson's dance poses.) For some pop and rock, Mrs. Pugacheva switched to a bouncy girlishness that was at odds with her matronly appearance; she fluffed her golden hair, giggled and skipped around. But her voice adapted easily, lightening up for a dance-pop song with a chorus about a cuckoo and projecting a strong, clear tone for uptempo rock. She even had the power to compete with the Chuck Berry-style guitar in ''Moscow Rock.'' Mrs. Pugacheva sang one song in English, ''Every Night,'' a plea for world peace that was as vague and sentimental as its Western counterparts. Beyond that, however, there was little attempt to communicate with an English-speaking audience; the concert program didn't provide titles of songs, much less translations. A spokeswoman for the producer said that many of the songs were about determination and living life to the fullest. But most members of the audience appeared to speak Russian and even those who didn't should have been impressed by Mrs. Pugacheva's stage presence, her versatility, and her vocal finesse. By JON PARELES Все новости и статьи Клуба "Апрель"