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"I was always impressed with artists that have religious life but don't make it the focus of their music," Slade said earlier this week while seated in the band's practice space - an airy room above the barn behind a Westminster home.

"Don't mind the cigar smell," said Wysocki, the band's drummer. "That's just Grandpa."

Members of The Fray graduated from their days playing Christian rock and leading parochial-school services to coining terms like "non-denom" to describe their faith. The guys now get lost in conversations about the hypocrisy of organized religion and deem some Christian music "fake" because of its diehard optimism.

The Fray named their 2003 EP, "Reason," after a song about the importance of intellectual contemplation. That seven-track offering also included the poetic, cascading aura, "Some Trust," about moral subjectivity.

And while every musician hates being compared to other artists, The Fray can't go wrong with a sound that will seduce David Gray and Coldplay enthusiasts. A friend recently dubbed their music "thought rock." The guys joked about the moniker, then acquiesced.

"It's the struggle we're facing," Slade said, "to be musicians and be real but also be artists."

That earnestness drips from The Fray's music. It's a characteristic that is essential to good songwriting but sometimes escapes more glamour-driven bands.

Not that The Fray is completely devoid of the trappings of pop. Each of the guys wears what has become the uniform of today's rock 'n' roller - pencil jeans and some-cool-sneaker. And two sport "faux hawks," which they probably don't realize is the haircut du jour among London hipsters.

These are basically hometown kids who give over their Saturdays to help Grandpa Bill around the barn. Their recent deck-building project, for instance, was a small price for getting to make music there until the wee hours.

Wysocki interrupted that pressing band anecdote to share one other pertinent piece of news: "Grandma is concerned about food being left out. You know, mice."

He described The Fray as "sheltered little church kids" before each found a way to break free from the confines of Christian music. The exception to their clean-cut history is singer/guitar player Joe King, the son of a former pastor who experienced a middleschool rebellion that included boosting and selling cigarettes to other kids.

King's street smarts show. He's the band's default leader, writing most of the songs with Slade, handling errands and correspondence, and swapping dozens of cell phone calls a day with their new Chicago-based management.

Those calls came fast and furious earlier this week as The Fray's Aware Records manager hashed out the final details surrounding a pending contract with Epic Records - a deal The Fray began negotiating after a New York City scout played just one song for a record company executive.

That airy, reflective piano melody, "Vienna," stuck with Epic A&R man Mike Flynn.

"It connected with me on a lot of levels," he said this week from Los Angeles. "Lyrically, it was a beautiful song. Melodically, Isaacs's voice captured me. ... I was on a plane to Denver about a week later."

A speedily organized studio showcase in New York City followed in October. That was the first time The Fray played a show outside Colorado. It also happened to be the day 93.3 KTCL put their song, "Cable Car," into regular rotation.

"I don't know much about Colorado bands breaking, but it seems like there's a really good shot with this one," said The Fray's manager, Steve Smith, whose company launched the likes of John Mayer.

"The excitement level around (The Fray) is really encouraging," he said. "They might be something special."

Staff writer Elana Ashanti Jefferson can be reached at 303-820-1957 or ejefferson@denverpost.com .

Aaron: Hello everybody. Thanks you for reading and listening. ~Denver Post