THE SHRILL OF SUCCESS : The Lighting Is Soft, the Clientele Famous, the Vibrations Loud. There’s Food, Too.

C icada: Any of a family of large, flylike homopteran insects with transparent wings; the male makes a loud, shrill sound by vibrating a special organ on its undersurface. --Webster’s New World Dictionary

You might not think that this description would lend itself to a trendy restaurant, but the new Cicada in West Hollywood does feature a loud, shrill sound created by the vibrations of many vocal organs over its surface. And in spite of its rather unattractive name, this restaurant has been absolutely packed with important people since the day it opened.

There are three reasons for this, and their names are Bernie, Jean-Francois and Stephanie. “You been to Bernie’s place yet?” people in the music industry were asking each other from the start. Bernie Taupin, the lyricist, is a partner, and he seems to have millions of friends, all eager to eat at his new restaurant. Because of this, you are likely to be seated next to somebody whose familiar face you most often see on MTV. Jean-Francois Meteigner also has his share of fans, and since they can now eat the chef’s food for less than half of what they paid when he was cooking at L’Orangerie, they’re anxious to eat here, too.

But the third reason is the most important. Stephanie Haymes may be the daughter of singers Dick Haymes and Fran Jeffries, but she is better known as the former manager of Le Dome. She not only knows everybody in Hollywood, she is also loved by most of them. Now that she has her own place, she flits happily from table to table like a hostess at a huge, happy party, dispensing hugs and advice with ease.

This intimate feeling is enhanced by the look of the room. Part Tuscan farmhouse, part Hawaiian beach shack, it is comfortable and hip, the sort of place where you could wear anything and fit in. The careful lighting is on the dark side, with a pinkish cast that makes everybody look good. The prices are equally attractive: Entrees start at $10; the most expensive item on the menu is $18. You can come to Cicada, look good, be surrounded by the hippest people in town and end up with a check that doesn’t hurt. What more could you possibly want?

Good food, for one thing. Order carefully, and that’s just what you’ll get. Meteigner bows to the modern muse on this menu, and some of the results are remarkably silly. I thought that the “crispy rolls of duck confit,” an appetizer, tasted like failed egg rolls filled with mush. I wasn’t thrilled with the clunky passion fruit plunked down in the middle of the “flower of baked vegetables,” and the lean venison chili seemed like a condescension to the natives--a cynical tribute to American tastes and our mania for low-fat foods.

Meteigner is more comfortable--and more in control--when he works with tradition. His French-inspired food is light (he uses very little cream and often replaces butter with olive oil in the sauces) and wonderful. His house-smoked salmon is silky and delicate, a classic. Crab-and-lobster bisque has the depth of flavor you crave in a bisque without the richness that comes from the cream. Meteigner does an impressive take on frisee aux lardons , the French salad made of curly endive, bacon and a warm poached egg, by replacing the bacon with crisply smoked salmon skin. And his salad of romaine, endive and Roquefort cheese, dressed with truffle oil and topped with crisp little curls of thin, fried potatoes, may not be the ultimate in lightness, but it is a salad any sensible person would make sacrifices for.

Meteigner is on shakier ground with ravioli and other pasta. I’ve ordered ravioli Merlotti twice, just because it sounds so good. Described as veal-chicken-prosciutto ravioli cooked and served in broth with arugula and shiitake mushrooms, it turns out to be a bowl of spectacular broth--a truly intense reduction--generously studded with hard little bullets that seem like gift-wrapped meatloaf. And while the crispy lobster-and-leek ravioli--big, floppy triangles flavored with garlic and ginger--are harmless, they don’t have much flavor. The pappardelle and tagliatelle are beautifully served in deep, rustic bowls, but you’ll find better pasta in the dozens of Italian restaurants within minutes of the door.

Most of the meat and poultry dishes are better. Fish is nicely and, for the most part, simply served with a variety of sauces. There are a couple of uncomplicated preparations on the menu--a vaguely Asian swordfish served with a soy-and- wasabi sauce, an interesting smoked whitefish served on sauerkraut--but most of the fish dishes seem to be specials. I’ve had various Hawaiian fish, including one in a green-peppercorn sauce and one in a lobster sauce, and all were satisfying.

But my favorite dishes here have all been of the meat persuasion. There’s a huge, tender New York cut of veal served with whole leaves of buttery spinach. And something the chef calls osso buco of lamb, a misnomer for what is a couple of lamb shanks in a rich, thick, impressively reduced sauce filled with orecchiette pasta and garnished with grilled polenta. Why it was called osso buco I can’t imagine, because it was impossible to get at the marrow in those bones.

The cassoulet was reasonable, although it would have been better if the beans had spent more time in the pot. Al dente beans aren’t particularly appealing. And I would have liked the duck sausage in the cassoulet better if it had been a little less lean. Still, for $14 it’s a lot of food, and if you factor in that you’re sitting in one of the most pleasant rooms in town, surrounded by celebrities, it’s a positive bargain.

Desserts are like the rest of the food at Cicada: With one exception, you should go for the classics. There is a wonderful creme brulee, a skinny layer of cream flecked with vanilla that puts that pasty stuff served in half the places in town to shame. The thin apple tart served on a raft of puff pastry seems to be modeled on the one served at L’Orangerie, although here the whipped cream does not come in a silver bucket. On the more experimental side, I found a puckery passion-fruit tart very appealing, although I don’t expect that people who like sticky, sweet desserts will appreciate it. The Cicada version of the trendy flourless chocolate cake was lackluster, and the regular chocolate cake had a vaguely waxy flavor. As for lavender ice cream--it reminded me mostly of frozen cologne.

Ask the owners why they’ve named their restaurant for an insect, and you get a lot of different answers. But in a time of copycat restaurants, when just an address is the coolest moniker, it’s one more thing that sets this restaurant apart. Cicada is singing its own tune, and that makes it a rare beast.

Cicada, 8478 Melrose Ave., West Hollywood; (213) 655- 5559. Open Monday through Friday for lunch, Monday through Saturday for dinner. Full bar. Valet parking. American Express, MasterCard, Visa accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $40-$70.

Recommended dishes: crab-and-lobster bisque, $7; smoked salmon, $9.50; romaine-and-endive salad, $11; lamb osso buco, $14; papillote of fish, $16; veal, $18.