Frank Zappa inspired his musician sons, Dweezil and Ahmet; Donovan's boy, Donovan Leitch, is in the band Nancy Boy; Otis Redding's son, Otis Redding III, sings in the Reddings trio

has admitted. 'When people say I'm doing this and that the same way as my father, it gets to be too much. I can't do anything about it.'

Well, he might have tried another career. But, as Jakob Dylan jokes. 'Hey, plumbing looks pretty hard. People say I'm following my father, but it never really was that big an issue to me. I want what everybody wants, which is to make a living doing what it is they like doing. Which in my case is playing music. And if I couldn't have it as a job, I'd still be doing it.'

Of course, when it actually comes to getting a record deal and attracting the interest of the press. having famous parents can be a distinct advantage. Emma Townshend, 28-year-old daughter of the Who's leader Pete, has just released her first album, Winterland. 'Do you think I don't know how I got a record deal?' she says, with refreshing candour. 'I know so many people making good music and record companies are going. "Well, we like it but how are we gonna market it?" And I know perfectly well that when I went in through that door and said. "Here's my half-decent music… and here's me." they went, "Aha, gimme!".

Before signing to East West records, Emma studied for a masters and history of science PhD, and taught undergraduates at Cambridge for two years. She is shameless about her reasons for giving that up. 'I know this sounds terrible, but it's crap money,' she says. 'And if you've grown up like I grew up and gone on really nice holidays, when you're working and you can't afford to go anywhere, you think, "I can't live on the amount of money you get paid for teaching!" '

Perhaps secure that her quirkily original, distinctly feminine music is unlikely to attract comparison with her rock’n’roll dad, she is happy to milk the family name for all it's worth. 'I was going to call the album Whose Baby. or Papa was a Rolling Stone, but that's probably laying the irony on a bit thick,' she laughs. 'I read Hello! magazine for Britain. I could read gossip professionally. And I am more interested in somebody if their dad's famous, so why on earth should I mind if someone else is interested in me because of it? I like my dad, and I think he's funny and very interesting, and he was a good dad. I still have a laugh every time I go round his house. So I don't mind talking about him.'

But unless the talent is unique or the ego unassailable, second-generation rockers are liable to be made to suffer by comparison to their famous parents. Singer-songwriter Louise Goffin has impressive credentials: the only child of Carole King and her songwriting partner, Gerry Goffin. Together Goffin and King composed more hits in the Sixties than anyone except Lennon and McCartney (including The Loco-Motion, sung by Louise's babysitter, Little Eva). After they split up, Carole King became the Seventies' biggest-selling female artist with her debut album. Tapestry. 'If I sat down and thought about what I have to live up to.' Louise once remarked, 'I would just give up.' But when she released This is the Place – a lyrically complex, melodically demanding album – in 1987, every review and interview focused on the family connection, and most found her wanting. 'What’s good enough for other people,' she noted, 'isn't good enough for me.'

It prompted a long spell of soul-searching, during which she took backseat roles as a guitarist-for-hire, touring with Bryan Ferry and Tears For Fears. Now, once again playing gigs and recording as a solo artist, she is more philosophical. 'When Julian Lennon came along, people said he was like a teddy bear for people who missed John,' she comments. 'All you can do is completely ignore it. The most difficult element is the suspicion – you’re never quite sure why people are responding to you the way they are. You never know if it’s because of what you do and who you are in yourself, or because of who you’re connected to by proxy. And I think that’s a confidence stumbling block. It’s like you’re inheriting all this reaction and it takes time, awareness and maturity to sift through it all and figure out what’s what. It gets really dull when one more person comes up to you when you’re doing something you’ve really worked hard on and says, "Oh my God, I just love Tapestry!".'

Louise went to the same school in LA as Jakob Dylan, and sympathises with his predicament. 'Jakob gets it tenfold, you know: "I love your record, and I gotta tell you when I first heard Blowing in the Wind, me and my wife we got back together again." or whatever,' she laughs.

Louise has precious memories, of sitting on Aretha Franklin's knee when she was recording Natural Woman, and of Joni Mitchell sketching her backstage at a concert. Yet she is wary of mythologising her upbringing. 'I feel like my parents were the parents of my creativity in a way, but in terms of getting direction and learning how to take care of things, it was really not an environment where they could have a family responsibility. I was like a kid around other kids and it’s been a long road figuring out how grown-ups actually function in the world.'

Although she admits she was uneasy with her mother’s immense fame. Louise never contemplated any other career for herself. 'In a sense, I know no other way to be. I’ve come across so many second-generation people in LA. And actually I think, on a purely musical basis, it makes it easier. because it’s so natural. You’ve been around it since you were so young, you saw people gathering together and having fun and exchanging all this creative energy, you’ve assimilated and heard and seen so much music, doing it yourself is about as difficult as falling off a log. But with that comes a lot of expectation.'

This particular burden is far lighter for the offspring of those whose names may have once been up in lights but never quite made it to the stars. It is only mildly diverting to learn that pop duo Alisha’s Attic are the daughters of Tremeloe Brian Poole, dance maverick Adam F is the son of Alvin Stardust or that singer-songwriter Sam Brown is the daughter of Joe Brown. Or you could take the approach of

When Julian Lennon came along, people said he was like a teddy bear for people who missed John

Donovan Leitch (son of folk star Donovan) and Jason Nesmith (son of Monkee Mike Nesmith), who formed the outrageously camp glam rock band Nancy Boy, playing music that defies parental comparison. 'I'm a huge fan of my dad’s stuff and I’m really glad to be part of the same family,' says Leitch. 'And he is very happy for me. But our music is different from his. I can’t quite see him in make-up parading down the catwalk.'

Alliances between members of the second generation are not uncommon. Chris Stills (son of Stephen, of Crosby, Stills and Nash) is about to release his own bluesy debut album, produced by Ethan Jones, son of the former Who producer, Glyn Jones. The sons of Miles Davis (Erin), the Doors' Robby Krieger (Waylon) and the Allman Brothers' Berry Oakley (Berry Jr) formed a very dubious association as Bloodline, where presumably they kept up family traditions by playing a hybrid form of Southern jazz/rock/boogie. The sons of two soul legends, Marvin Gaye Jr and Lou Rawls Jr, record under the modest designation Nu Breed: The Next Generation. Otis Redding's sons (Dexter and Otis III) were even more shameless, forming harmony trio the Reddings with their cousin Mark Lockett and releasing their own version of (Sittin’ on) The Dock of the Bay.

If imitation is the greatest form of flattery, many star parents have reason to be proud. Beach Boy Brian Wilson’s daughters, Carnie and Wendy, got together with Chynna Phillips (daughter of Mamas and Papas John and Michelle Phillips) to record harmony-drenched pop as Wilson Phillips. And while you might have thought the late Frank Zappa’s son would never have forgiven his father for naming him while under the influence of the Sixties (his daughter is called Moon Unit), Dweezil Zappa now plays noisy, avant-garde guitar highly reminiscent of you-know-who.

The saddest tale from the second generation of rock stars is that of Jeff Buckley. Abandoned as a baby by the gifted but self-destructive Tim Buckley, he never got to know his father, who died of a heroin overdose in 1973 at the tender age of 28. Yet when Jeff released his debut album, Grace, in