The Independent (London) February 12, 1991, Tuesday Don't talk about the war; don't even think about Sinead O'Connor; Sorry, but quite a few stars were unable to be with Jim White at the British pop awards on Sunday night By JIM WHITE MC HAMMER couldn't be there to accept his award as Best International Newcomer. Nor could Michael Hutchence (Best International Male Singer) or the rest of his band INXS (Best International Group). Even Elton John sent satellite greetings from Los Angeles rather than turning up in person to trouser a bronze statuette for being voted Best British Male Singer. Before the Brits ceremony began, Jonathan King, the event's organiser, asked those accepting awards not to mention the war. This was very easy for most of them, as fear of the war had prevented them turning up at all. The Brits used to be called the BPI Awards, the British Phonographic Industry's annual opportunity to give grateful thanks to the people who line its pockets. In recent years the event has been hijacked by Jonathan King, an Eric Heffer lookalike, who despite (or perhaps because of) making his name with a string of novelty hits in the Sixties has become a ubiquitous figure in television, radio and the Press. After a live television transmission of the event was turned into a shambles by amateurish presentation two years ago, King was charged with making the thing slick. This involved removing all possibility of risk; no compere to foul up the links, no mentions of the war, an edited package for television, even a buy-your-own bar. This was pop without controversy. Never mind parents being frightened, a nun would have had difficulty being offended. True, Robin Gibb of the Bee Gees wore his hair in a style (badger- striped in colour, thin on top, falling to cover his ribcage at each side) that would have outraged most aesthetes, but the closest we came to an upset was when James Atkins, lead singer of the new teen band EMF, swore during his band's between-awards performance. His target was the fat cats in the audience (except he didn't say ''cat''). This proved both that he had been miming the song (his microphone wasn't switched on) and that he will make a more entertaining teen hero than the sweet-mouthed Bros brothers. Otherwise, it was a parade of grown- up stars doing the grown-up thing and behaving with taste and modesty. The Cure thanked their fans; Status Quo were appropriately droll about their award for longevity (''25 years and we still only know three chords,'' said Francis Rossi); and Betty Boo made a joke about Des O'Connor. Dressed like the Milk Tray man, George Michael emerged to accept the Best Album gong, because he is a proper star, from the security of the wings rather than the open target-range of the audience. He thanked a list of people that was lengthy even by Oscar standards. Paul Heaton, of the wonderful Beautiful South, on the other hand gave the shortest acceptance speech (Best Video) on record: ''Nice one,'' he said. It all ran to schedule. At the after-show party, everyone behaved with even more decorum. Executives in their mid-forties, chatting earnestly about sales figures and marketing trends, did their best to appear swinging by wearing Ray Bans with their dinner jackets. Shakin' Stevens was ineffably polite to waiters who queued to shake his hand; Lisa Stansfield (who did mention the war in her acceptance speech for Best British Female Singer) was equally attentive when an autograph-hunting bell-hop interrupted her vigorous dancing to Dee-Lite's ''Groove is in the Heart''; even EMF's James Atkins overcame his distaste for portly executives and chatted amiably with several of them over a glass or two of house white. It was not quite the picture of the business of making pop records that Sinead O'Connor believes in. The Irish singer responsible for the marvellous version of Prince's ''Nothing Compares 2 U'' last year has developed a reputation for loosely articulated political stands. She upset American flag-wavers by refusing to allow the ''Star-spangled Banner'' to be played before concerts on her recent US tour. She turned down her invitation to accept a gong at The Brits, thus inspiring a campaign of tabloid character assassination. It wasn't the war that kept O'Connor away, but a suspicion that awards damage the music business. ''I believe our purpose is to inspire and guide the human race,'' she said. ''But how can we help when we have been taken out of this world and placed above it? We are allowing ourselves to be portrayed as being in some way more important.'' King's retaliation was the slickest, best-rehearsed moment of the evening. ''Unfortunately Sinead can't be with us tonight,'' announced a disembodied voice, when the Best International Female Singer prize was awarded. ''So we will pay our own tribute to her.'' There followed footage of Whitney Houston singing the US national anthem, complete with tears and saluting soldiers, at the recent Super Bowl. O'Connor would, perhaps, have been better advised to follow the line of the coolest award recipients, Depeche Mode. They showed a street-credible contempt for the system that would have appealed to The Rolling Stones in their heyday (when Mick and the boys refused to appear on the revolving podium at the end of Sunday Night at the London Palladium). Having mobilised their fan club to vote their single the best of the year, the boys were unable to pick up their award. They were absent skiing.