LOW VOLTAGE, HIGH POWER

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Not everyone is plugged into the Unplugged sound. Steve Albini, the combative producer of Nirvana's last studio album, In Utero, says record companies have seized on Unplugged as a way of repackaging old, previously recorded material. Already own the original? Now buy the unplugged version. "From an artistic standpoint, it's a total joke," says Albini. "You take bands that are fundamentally electric-rock bands and put acoustic guitars in their hands and make them do a pantomime of a front-porch performance. It's not an authentic reading of that music at all. It's like watching a water ballet crossed with an N.F.L. football game."

The homogeneity of the performers on Unplugged has also come in for criticism. With a few exceptions, such as Mariah Carey and Mary J. Blige, the acts invited to come on the show have been white rock 'n' rollers. A few months ago, the New York City-based Black Rock Coalition held its own nontelevised "unplugged" in New York City to showcase minority talent ignored by MTV. Coletti defends his show's record and argues that rhythm-driven genres such as rap, R. and B. and reggae are often better suited for dance floors than for an acoustic showcase. "It's kind of hard, but not everyone is right for the show," he says. MTV officials point out that a Stevie Wonder appearance on Unplugged is being planned. But critics charge that the show's racial makeup reflects a persistent double standard at the music channel: black musicians are seen mainly as entertainers, while white musicians are more likely to be regarded as "artists" deserving of a serious showcase on Unplugged.

Unplugged is not a perfect show. MTV helped create the glitzy, surface-over-substance music-video age, and sometimes Unplugged succumbs to the very values it once reacted against. At points, the show's naked emotionality feels as false and forced as an arena full of headbangers holding their lighters aloft during a power ballad. Often enough, though, there are flashes of excellence. The best and most transporting performance in the new series of concerts was turned in by Etheridge. She walked onto a bare set with no string section, no drums, no backup-just her and her acoustic guitar filling up the stage.

The concert hit its peak when Springsteen joined her for a tender, mournful rendition of his classic rock anthem Thunder Road. It was a magical moment-spontaneous, liberating, passionate. At one point, Etheridge fumbled the words near the end of the song. So, to the delight of the crowd, she and Springsteen performed the song again-flawlessly. It proved, once more, that you don't need to be plugged in to generate electricity.