These devils wear Prada

Here in L.A., where entertainment-related billboards turn streets into gaudy arcades, no current advertising campaign snags more eyeballs than CW's "Gossip Girl." The movie-screen posters are simple: Portraits of young hotties in steamy situations straight out of the Zalman King pornbook. The accompanying taglines, acting as come ons, are lifted from media reviews of the show: "Every Parent's nightmare" -- The Boston Herald; "Very Bad for you" -- The New York Post; "Mindblowingly inappropriate" -- The Parents Television Council. (I got a kick out of the jab at the PTC, the advocacy group that lobbies for TV censorship under the guise of protecting -- what else? -- the children.)

Though clearly not aimed at a 3osomething person, the ad campaigns almost persuaded me to tune into "Gossip Girl" tonight. Well, that and the presence of the not-unattractive star, Blake Lively. But I just couldn't pull the remote-control trigger. Fact is, even Robin Leach would be hard-pressed to care about a show about the lifestyles of the (young) rich and famous. Truth is, I've been thinking a lot lately about how today's youth-targeted television is worryingly smitten with materialism and wealth. From "My Super Sweet 16" to "The Hills" to "90120," we're supposed to care about protagonists who can afford to pour Verve Cliquot into their cereal and spread their toast with caviar. In the case of "Gossip Girl," the pretty teens face problems such as relationship squabbles, treacherous affairs, and the rise and fall of bitchy queen bees. Ooh, life is tough in The Hamptons.

The belated return of "90210" is a reminder that shows about the wealthy have long been with us. Why Aaron Spelling built an entire empire (and an indoor bowling alley in his mansion) on such fare. But in this golden era of television when so many shows boast smarter writing, bigger ideas, and story arcs as complex as an A.S. Byatt novel, is it too much to expect more substance than materialism from programs aimed at teens?

Obsession with wealth and its accoutrements are very much embedded in US culture, of course. That aspiration is apparent in every flash of diamand-carated bling that one sees on the fingers, wrists, and ears of inner-city youth. But how about a teen-oriented show about ordinary folks that seems more in touch with these times of Obama populism? How about a show about working-class people (and, no, I'm not calling for a return of "Married with Children"). After all, the greatest show in television history -- "The Wire" -- was so compelling precisely because it presented a multifaceted understanding of the underclass (both cops and street-corner drug dealers) and the very real difficulties they face. There's innate drama in the desperation of people who live from paycheck to paycheck.

Of course, defenders will doubtless claim that "Gossip Girl" shows that even money doesn't bring happiness. But I very much doubt that the creators of "The O.C." have given us "The Great Gatsby 2.0."

Meet American Idol's new judge

Big changes afoot in "American Idol" following the departure of dapper dancer -- and AI producer -- Nigel Lythgoe. Following last season's rating's slippage, the remaining producers of "American Idol" seem all-too-aware that Randy has uttered, "yo, dawg, check it out" one time too many, and that Simon seems worn out by Paula's Pollyanna-ish compliments.

Now, the producers have announced that Kara DioGuardi --songwriter for hire for the likes of Celine Dion, Kelly Clarkson, Carrie Underwood, Avril Lavigne, Faith Hill, The Jonas Brothers, and Christina Aguilera, to name but a few -- will join the panel of judges. The addition of DioGuardi, who is the 00's answer to Diane Warren, is an inspired choice as you'll see from this profile interview that I commissioned last year.

It's a great first step to reform the "American Idol" format. And it's a relief that DioGuardi's discography doesn't include any songs for Sanjaya....

Whole Lotta Olympics

What an Olympics it's been. Michael Phelps can give up swimming now that he walks on water in the eyes of the world. For me, the most amazing spectacle -- other than the opening ceremony -- was watching Usian "lightning" Bolt, the giant Jamaican sprinter with grasshopper legs, casually stride to a world record 100 meters without even running at his full capacity. Memo to Hollywood casting directors: Outfit this guy in a red superhero suit for a movie version of The Flash and you won't need to spend a dime on special effects.

Great to see Jimmy Page riffing "Whole Lotta Love" during the closing ceremonies in a duet with Leona Lewis. A surprise collaboration, you say? Well, not so much when you consider that the riffmeister has hooked up with Puff Daddy (as he was known back then) and David Coverdale.

Few things in life are free, except new songs

It's the new music-business model -- call it a half-Radiohead -- give away the first single from your new album as a taste of what to expect. For Coldplay and now Keane (see below), free MP3s have been chosen to make a statement, namely, "our new stuff is adventurous rather than the same 'ole, same 'ole."

Herewith, pointers to a few fresh freebies out there.

Marillion
The brand new single by Marillion, one of my fave bands, is so catchy that you'll need a lobotomy to dislodge it from your head. Visit this site to download "Whatever is Wrong With You" (download is at the bottom right-hand side of the page -- no information or email address needed). It's the lead-off single from October's double album, "Happiness is the Road."

Coldplay
Visit Coldplay.com for a free download of "Death Will Never Conquer," a jaunty acoustic ditty sung by drummer Will Champion, doing his best Chris Martin impression. The song has been a staple of the band's acoustic set on tour.

Richard Barbieri
Porcupine Tree keyboard player Richard Barbieri has a new solo album, "Stranger Inside," coming out Sept. 30. The musician, a former cohort of bassist Mick Karn and David Sylvian in the new wave art-rock band Japan, is making an excellent 8-minute track titled "Hypnotek" available to those who sign up to receive more information here. Richard's previous solo album, "Things Buried," is an electronica album that feels more organic than synthetic and it'll take you places you don't normally visit with a pair of headphones.

Keane
The British trio, renowned for their clean-lines of piano pop. take a left swerve on "Spiralling." Available for free until 11 a.m. on Monday August 11 at keanemusic.com, this first single off "Perfect Symmetry" is a shot across every music critic's bow.

The dogged days of August

It's been a little quiet on the blog front of late, I'm afraid. The main culprit: A move from Boston to Los Angeles next week and hectic deadlines at work. But here's a roundup of what I've been reading, watching, and listening to over the past month.

WATCHING: Last night's opening ceremonies at the Olympics qualify as the 8th wonder of the world. I've never seen anything like it. Thousands of performers in seemingly computer-synchronized choreography of algorithmic complexity. If this was China's attempt to intimidate visiting athletes -- a sort of rugby Haka writ large -- it more than succeeded. If you missed it, YouTube it.

TV-wise, it's Psych and reality shows such as So, You Think You Can Dance? which, in many ways, is far superior to "American Idol" because the judges are more articulate -- when Mary Murphy isn't screaming like Robert Plant on helium, that is. And seasoned British host Cat Deeley is the best emcee on television. Movie-wise, I was apparently one of the 10 people in North America that saw The X-Files: I Want My Money Back. Fact: More people have seen "Space Chimps" than the second -- and, I reckon, last -- Mulder and Scully film. It's one of the most dismal big-screen experiences ever. Unforgivably dull and not in the least cinematic, the film barely included anything supernatural, and the performances weren't super natural, either. The Dark Knight, however, exceeded all my expectations.

READING: Haven't had as much reading time as I'd have liked and my bookshelf is now fully packed, but I am half way through David Wroblewski's The Story of David Sawtelle, perhaps the most acclaimed debut novel of 2008. It's Dickensian in length and its gold-bar size doesn't exactly qualify it as beach reading. But its "Hamlet" inspired tale of a mute boy and his canine companion is perfect for the dog days of August. But it's utterly compelling and beautifully written.

Next up for me is a galley copy of When Will There Be Good News? by Kate Atkinson, one of my very favorite authors.

LISTENING TO: Lots of Radiohead at the moment as Kim and I will be seeing them Wednesday night, which will be a great send off before we jet to Los Angeles the following day.

Last week we saw The Police again and it was a fine farewell gig, albeit a little too short and, unforgivably, no "Synchronicity II" this time around! I had hoped that the trio would record new material because Sting's solo songs are smothered in smooth sounds. (How's that for alliteration, eh?) I'd love for him to pare down his material for a leaner discipline on his next album. And, no, I don't mean making another record of lute music.

We just saw Coldplay for the fifth time and, if Chris Martin's falsetto seemed as fragile as his artistic temperament, he more than made up for it with boundless enthusiasm. The outstanding light show by designer Paul Normandale, increasingly the go-to-guy for cutting-edge stage presentations, centered around massive Christmas-tree light bulbs that were suspended above the crowd and projected images or refracted them like gigantic marbles. The band included some other nice touches: Dashing down the side aisle to the nosebleed section to play a couple of acoustic tracks. As populist touches go, it was most welcome for those of us in the cheap seats.

Earlier in July, I enjoyed club dates by Joseph Arthur, one of my very favorite songwriters, and Shearwater, my favorite discovery of 2008.

Album-wise, I've been loving "Absent Lovers," a 1980s live album by King Crimson. The setlist corrals the band's finest songs, I think, and the lineup of Robert Fripp, Adrian Belew, Bill Bruford, and Tony Levin is perhaps only surpassed by the current touring lineup which sees Pat Mastelotto and Porcupine Tree drum god Gavin Harrison taking over the backstage stools for a double-drum formation.

Also on frequent rotation: The Best of The Beta Band. (It's not pronounced Beta as in VHS, but "bee-tah." Must be a Scottish thing.) Until now, I only owned their final album, the tremendous "Heroes to Zeros," but this compilation reveals how good their earlier material was, too. Their unusual amalgamation of sounds and psychedelia is reminiscent in feel of Love. I have to thank my friend Simon for that one, as well as supplying me with albums by The Cure, Ulrich Schnauss, Field Music, and The Editors. What a heaven-send during all the packing. Speaking of which, I really must return to taping up some more boxes...

Oh dear, there's a Joker in the pack

Right now you'd have to retreat into a bat cave to escape the buzz about "The Dark Knight," released Friday. Amid giddy talk about a $130 million opening weekend and a posthumous Oscar for Heath Ledger, I'm a little worried about the film itself, despite the great reviews. I predict that the film will be beset by the same problem that has plagued every Bat flick apart from, perhaps, Christopher Nolan's previous entry in the series. I'm not talking about Batman being unable to turn his head in his immovable cowl. No, I'm referring to Batman being a supporting player in his own franchise. In these films, the main focus is always on the avant-garde villains and, inevitably, they outshine the hero. From what I'm hearing, Ledger does exactly that....

A publisher's best friend...

I picked up “The Story of Edgar Sawtelle” at a book store the other day purely based on great reviews and, so far, I'm enthralled by the story even though I have no idea where it's going. (If possible, I try to avoid reading a book-jacket synopsis to retain the element of surprise.)

What I do know is that this tale, set on a farm in Wisconsin, focuses on the relationship between a mute boy and his faithful hound companion. What, with the success of “Marley and Me” and “The Art of Racing in the Rain,” I predict that books about canine best friends are bound to become the next trend in publishing. Hollywood won't lag too far behind. Already, a film adaptation of "Marley and Me," starring Owen Wilson and Jennifer Aniston, is slated to open Christmas day.

James Bond has returned

I became a James Bond fan at an early age (the second movie I ever recall seeing is "The Man with the Golden Gun," hardly an auspicious introduction to the world of 007) and had read all the Ian Fleming books by around age 13. I read one or two of the later Bond books by John Gardner, too, but ever since the late 1980s my fandom has centered around the cinematic Bond. So, when novelist Sebastian Faulks ("Charlotte Gray," "Birdsong") reactivated the secret agent's license to kill, I was curious to see how someone with literary pedigree might update the Boy's Own spy series. In any event, the newspaper's book editor tracked me down to write a review since, like everyone else in the office, she knows that I'm a Bond aficionado. So, here's my take on "Devil May Care."

And, while you're here, you can check out the trailer to the new Daniel Craig entry in the series, "Quantum of Solace." Tell me how it is, because, as with Indiana Jones IV, I'm avoiding all previews prior to opening night.

E-motion picture

Yesterday, I was talking to some friends of mine about their children's reaction to "WALL*E." Both the 10-year-old and the 8-year-old rated it as PIXAR's worst, alongside "Cars." Truth is, though the titular character may have the cutest, most expressive eyes in cartoonery since Puss in Boots from "Shrek," this fable of post-apocalyptic horror isn't really a kids film at all. (Exit polling revealed that a good portion of the film's attendees were adults without children.) The film's halo of humanity is just bright enough to ward off the encroaching shadows of sadness and despair that lurk in the corners of every frame. As such it's PIXAR's greatest achievement, surpassing "Toy Story I & II," "Finding Nemo" and even the company's previous highwater mark, "The Incredibles." It is the best movie of the year and, evidently, I'm not the only person who feels that way.

"Wall*E," a movie that has virtually no speaking made me cry twice -- which seldom happens to me -- but it will inevitably be relegated to the animation category at The Oscars. "Cartoons" have, for decades, been deemed unworthy of Best Picture status. Even though live-action pictures are made in just a fraction of the time it takes to painstakingly create a work of animation. (Peter Gabriel and score composer Thomas Newman oughta score an Academy Award for "Down to Earth," the great song during the end credits.)

As Brad Bird, director of "The Incredibles" and "The Iron Giant" once noted: “People think of animation only doing things where people are dancing around and doing a lot of histrionics, but animation is not a genre. And people keep saying, “The animation genre.” It’s not a genre! A Western is a genre! Animation is an art form, and it can do any genre. You know, it can do a detective film, a cowboy film, a horror film, an R-rated film or a kids’ fairy tale. But it doesn’t do one thing. And, next time I hear, “What’s it like working in the animation genre?” I’m going to punch that person!”