Copyright 1993 Daily Variety Ltd. All Rights Reserved Daily Variety November 10, 1993 Wednesday SECTION: REVIEW LENGTH: 360 words HEADLINE: Tears for Fears; Jellyfish (Universal Amphitheatre; 6,251 seats; $27.50 top) BYLINE: Troy J. Augusto BODY: Promoted by MCA Concerts. Bands: Tears for Fears: Roland Orzabal, Gail Ann Dorsey, Jeffrey Trott, Jebin Burni, Brian MacCleod, Alan Griffiths; Jellyfish: Andy Sturmer, Roger Manning, Tim Smith, Eric Dover. Reviewed Nov. 4, 1993. It's a case of two steps forward and one step back for Tears for Fears' Roland Orzabal. While the move to what's basically a solo project now (Orzabal no longer works with former partner Curt Smith) has allowed him the freedom to move his songwriting int o a more personal and intimate zone, the absence of anyone to share the concert spotlight with has deflated the band's live experience. Music from Tears for Fears' last two Fontana/Mercury albums, 1989's "The Seeds of Love" and the current "Elemental," provided this show's most satisfying moments. Single "Break It Down Again," a dynamic "Dog's a Best Friend's Dog" (both from the new albu m), a slightly ska-flavored "Sowing the Seeds of Love" and the dramatic "Woman in Chains" (both from the "Seeds" album) were the show's high-water marks. Highlights included a muscular take on hit "Head Over Heels," the subtle power of "Mr. Pessimist" and the band's biggest smash, "Everybody Wants to Rule the World," where Orzabal mockingly played up the rock-star stereotype. It was a fulfilling show certainly, but without Smith, who helped Orzabal bring a loose, informal touch to the stage, and now-solo Oleta Adams, who provided undeniable soulful edge, a somewhat tedious and unchallenging one as well. Opening act Jellyfish, a Bay Area band that's released two albums on Charisma, spends a lot of time listening to '70s pop-rock -- maybe too much time. The quirky and humorous quartet, which features lead singer Andy Sturmer on a minimal, stand-up drum ki t, mixes a catchy, classic-rock style with an edgy and graceful modern approach. Silly numbers like "Joining a Fan Club" and early hit "The King Is Half Undressed" were fun and bouncy cuts that had guilty-pleasure written all over them. But those songs paled in comparison to the moody "The Man I Used to Be," an exquisite, affecting s ong of personal revelation that stands as the likable group's best song.