LONDON -- Their musical background and rock attitude aside, singer Cliff Jones

and his bandmates were dead set on finding two words that sounded great together.

And that has made all the difference, the singer said.

"It's all in the name!" Jones said of his glam rock band, Gay Dad, which has emerged

from nowhere to become one of England's great musical hopes (and hypes) for 1999.

With the likes of the London daily The Observer and the women's magazine

Company tipping the provocatively named band for the top in '99, Jones sounds

grateful, if slightly bemused.

"It's rather nice of these people to say these things when they've probably not even

heard a note of music!" he said. But the memorably ridiculous name has had exactly the

desired effect. "Sex Pistols, Pink Floyd, Roxy Music. Gay Dad. Say it loud and say it

proud!" Jones said.

Gay Dad are a glammy guitar-pop band whose music shows off the influence of such

'70s rockers as David Bowie and T. Rex, along with touches of hard rock and new wave.

They were formed two years ago by Jones, a rock critic who had written for the British

music magazine Mojo and style magazine The Face, and other media

insiders.

Until last year they played under the name Leisure Noise. They "came out," as Jones

puts it, as Gay Dad during a brief tour opening for the Scottish guitar-pop band

Superstar. Although they've yet to release any music -- their debut single,

href="http://media.addict.com/atn-bin/get-music/Gay_Dad/To_Earth_With_Love.ram">"To

Earth With Love" (RealAudio excerpt), comes out Monday in the U.K. -- they've

already planned U.K. headlining tours for the spring. Their first album, Leisure Noise, is

due in late spring.

Standouts among the band's songs include "Oh Jim," "Dim Star" and the slow and

brooding "Jesus Christ," which Jones introduced at a recent show here by saying, "This

isn't a religious song. ... Or perhaps it is."

Because of their name, media background and a relatively late start at the rock game (all

the members are in their mid to late 20s), Gay Dad were immediately open to question in

the U.K.

Nick Ember, who works in A&R at London Records, Gay Dad's label, was quoted late last

year in the U.K. trade magazine Music Week as saying, "Certain A&R people were

convinced [Gay Dad] were being filmed by secret cameras for a documentary on how to

wind up the record industry!"

It might have made a good movie, but Jones said it doesn't exist.

The frontman is a canny operator. Off the record, he's personable and funny. Stick a

microphone in front of him, and he adopts the persona of a pretentious rocker, talking of

"finding a window of opportunity and climbing through that window" and "not wanting to

explore the lexicon of rock."

By the last item, Jones presumably meant to suggest that Gay Dad are so original that

they're beyond the influence of other rock bands.

As if to back up that claim, David Bowie producer Tony Visconti, who's worked with Gay

Dad, wrote on his homepage that they're "a unique group that defy description."

Actually, the five-piece band has the exact kind of lineup you'd expect from a next big

thing in the U.K. Jones plays the perfect glam, slightly camp, frontman; bassist Nigel

Hoyle presents a similar package. Charley Stone is a pretty, and vaguely androgynous,

female guitarist. James Roseboro is a Brit-pop style keyboard player, while drummer Baz

(born Nick Crowe) seems to have taken his style, musical and otherwise, from Animal,

legendary stickman of TV's Muppets (offstage, though, Baz is quiet and considered).

The group played its first high-profile, London headlining show on Dec. 8 at The Talk of

London, a louche and decadent cabaret bar above the theater where the musical "Cats"

has made a home. The audience was almost entirely made up of music-business types.

A TV producer toward the back of the bar said, "They have two songs to impress me, or

I'm off."

The few paying fans sat near the stage anxiously waiting. They were strays who had

caught Gay Dad supporting Brit-poppers Mansun along with a posse of young Japanese

girls.

The band made a late but assured entrance for a Tuesday evening in December.

There was no sign of any nerves or hesitancy from singer Jones. He and the band

played with the energy and conviction of a group with years of touring and experience.

The set-closer, "To Earth With Love," demonstrated the band's ability to merge catchy

melody lines with witty prose. But reaction to the sound was mixed among the critics.

In a bathroom after the show, two journalists argued. One purported, "They're like a Big

Mac -- cheap and satisfying, but no substance."

The other said, "No. They're the future of rock."

But if you ask Jones, he'll tell you candidly, "Gay Dad's time is now."