IT'S GOOD TO be Kimberly Chun!

After a long, hard, but very glamorous night spent scribbling random record reviews and blowing her eardrums out to the sound of the extremely loud but utterly famous, newly revived DKT/MC5 (and blowing her mind over those perky, distracting shoulder pads on fill-in, bad-posture poster boy-singer Evan Dando), she drags herself out of her luxurious thrift-shop bed ($15) at 8:30 a.m. on the dot – late for work again! –Puttering around her stupendous, rent-controlled one-bedroom ($790 – the only way she can afford to live in this incredible city, whose median household income, circa 1999, was $55,221), she makes her fabulous $1.50 sack lunch. Ka-ching! She drops $1.35 on a tall, extraordinary coffee from the nearby deli and saves $1.25 by hopping on the back exit of the brilliant 38L Geary Muni bus, spilling half of that phenomenal coffee on herself, half on an innocent bystander. And there are certainly a lot of those – it's standing-room only again!

Bling, bling – that's the sound of all those beautiful people who want off her super-pimped-out, municipal-chic ride! Chauffeured into the fantastic Financial District, she trudges through the amazing South of Market, sucking up incredible diesel fumes of nearby semis, and finally settles into her astounding cubicle. We'll conveniently avoid discussing salary; instead, insert a sound bite by a harried Us Weekly or People reporter, who quips, "Quite simply, life as Chun is way fun." Just call her "Queen of Making Money." She might even turn around.

That's life according to The Fabulous Life and It's Good to Be ... programs that are still going strong on, respectively, VH1 and E! (remember to inject the appropriate screechy, alarmed-feline note right about here: "Eeeee!"). Maybe their existence is a testament to the power and popularity of glossy tomes like In Style, that now well-established doorstop that equates celeb worship with lifestyle/material obsessions, and its more blatantly materialistic but less fame-fixated shopping magazine sister, Lucky. Or maybe they're yet another permutation of the ever-cycling '80s revival – these are the ultracrass Cribs- and Behind the Music-like mutant offspring of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. There's something particularly unnerving about the perpetual loop of Fab and Good currently in rotation on those channels. Is it too much to ask for music videos or truly original programming? Dare we mention the "video hits" hinted at in the initials of the once musically credible VH1?

Those who've been living the life, doing the do, and not simply sitting, passive and flabbergasted, in front of the flat-screen have been missing all the shows' gruesome details – numbers, really, because that's what it boils down to. Paychecks and prices. And products, lots and lots of products and services, from international brand names like Crème de la Mer and Vera Wang to local vendors such as Andy Hyman of Distant Replays (the spot where OutKast's Big Boi gets spendy on throwback jerseys) and Vision Nightclub in Atlanta.

I know we were all dying to follow Renée Zellweger's career-fee fever chart on It's Good to be Renée Zellweger (and don't forget that gawky subtitle, Queen of Making Money) – the diagrams were dressed up with a bobble-headed Zellweger, just in case we forgot who this is all about. Didja know she bounced from scale wages as an extra in a country-music video to the $15 million paycheck she'll collect for the sequel to Bridget Jones's Diary, after snagging that cute, little big man she's been flirting with forever, Oscar, for her scene-gnawing role in Cold Mountain? Could you guess Kate Hudson is adorable, descended from movie royalty, in love with her platinum credit cards and her rock-star hubby, and sporting a million-dollar ring? Never you mind, my Good fans, about the cinematic stinkeroos Hudson usually chooses to appear in. Art is completely beside the point on E(eeee)! Considering all the fragmented info – the bare-bones dollar amounts that flicker before us like a strobe light, amid the hyper jump cuts and equally jumpy and annoying narrators – you wonder if these shows are intended to do anything more than instill some sort of intense, fitful envy in the viewers. Get thee to QVC immediately to satisfy your now-well-massaged shopping impulses.

Remember accountability? Well, it's the accounting that truly counts on Us Weekly-copresented Fab and People-populated Good. We're talking dollar amounts, as well as the fact that these shows seem to be made on the extreme cheap, with plenty of close-to-free, if not completely free, commentary from media types, friends, and family, and lots of rigorously recycled archival and paparazzi footage.

But is it really necessary to know that Big Boi drops $100,000 on jerseys, although the most salient and concrete proof of his group's progressive (artistic) tendencies is the detail that he was sporting the garb all of three years before Puffy and Jay-Z? The classier, more subdued of the two shows and about 30 episodes into its glam existence, Fab includes a Robin Leach sound-alike commentator as well as, at the very least, a segment on a celebrated subject's work, even if it's buried deep in the show. It's almost beside the point that OutKast have established a charity or won an Album of the Year Grammy; in the Fab and Good realm, it only matters as far as it feeds their general prosperity. That Oscar, that Grammy, adds up to more cash in the long run – that's all we care about.

Everything is commodified – mates and estates alike are tallied up, and OutKast's musical eclecticism is equated with financial diversification. "These guys are having fun – they've got all these money-making businesses going," one talking head blabs. Fun? It's only a few letters short of funds. Music pioneers? All that matters in the end, the pseudo-Leach says, is that André 2000 and Big Boi are "dirty, filthy, stinking rich." And to think I might have given the series a little more credit if OutKast were at least dubbed "stanking rich." If I have to resort to predigested pap, I think I'll stick to backlash product like Awesomely Badder Hair (couldn't agree more when it comes to that new Lenny Kravitz do) or less blatantly materialistic mash notes such as I Love the '90s: Dirty Rocker Boys of the '90s.

And speaking briefly of dirty boys from the '90s – I hate to compare, but that other top-of-their-game hip-hop-rock-pop group, the Beastie Boys, outdid themselves recently, in the sparest, most economical way conceivable, with To the Five Boroughs. Anyone who gives the chop-shop treatment to the namesake song of this column, on the strangely moving "An Open Letter to NYC" – and refuses to keep their blunt, potty-mouthed tendencies in check on the opening track and single "Ch-Check It Out" and "Hey Fuck You" – deserves their lofty perch atop the Billboard 200.

My favorite songs, however, such as "Time to Build," are lyrically rangy and pointed in political and philosophical aim, and constructed with brittle, bony electro beats. The editor's notes sprinkled through the CD's lyric sheet touch on why this album took so long – at least they were able to turn off their internal red-ink wielders long enough to push this out: "So step up to the window and place your bets. Is the U.S. gonna keep breaking necks? Maybe it's time that we impeach Tex [Editor's note: Don't get him wrong. Yauch loves Texas, but this fool has got to go.]."

Pickin' the hits

Mindy Smith The folk waif sings the blues. Nashville singer-songwriter Mindy Smith's sweet warble is so acutely similar to Dolly Parton's that it's no wonder she appeared on last year's Just Because I'm a Woman: The Songs of Dolly Parton tribute album, singing "Jolene." Her skills at songcraft aren't so bad either; her big break arrived after she won the 2000 Tin Pan South writers contest. Thurs/8, 9 p.m., Independent, 628 Divisadero, S.F. $15. www.ticketweb.com.

Barrington Levy It's all good as dancehall prince Barrington Levy enters yodeling and spreading positive vibes in the hot and heavy field. Aziza-Master Drummers of Ghana and DJ Polo Mo-xquuz also perform. Fri/9, 9 p.m., Independent, 628 Divisadero, S.F. $23-$25. www.ticketweb.com

A.C Newman New porn alert! False alarm – actually it's new, winsome pop from New Pornographers' Carl Newman's solo project, A.C. Newman. The Honorary Title and the Neins also perform. July 9, 9:30 p.m., Bottom of the Hill, 1233 17th St., S.F. $10. (415) 474-0365.

Bobby Bare Jr. and Tom Heinl Staxx horns with a side of Paul Westerberg-like rasp. Stellar Bloodshot Records singer-songwriter Bobby Bare Jr. writes the songs that threaten to put some solid tears in your beer, judging from his new CD, From the End of Your Leash. How many folks would think to rhyme "country stars," "Japanese guitars," and "pickup bars" in one fell line? Opening is Eugene, Ore., Cash sound-alike and yuckster Tom Heinl, singing more carefree, witty ditties about pancake houses ("IHOP"), hot rods ("Pinto Squire"), and guys' dirty little secrets (the kazoo-riddled "Peein' in an Empty"). Heinl even has his own "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer": "Christmas Tree on Fire." Temple Dare also perform. Sun/11, 8 p.m., Cafe du Nord, 2170 Market, S.F. $10. (415) 861-5016.

Cobra High Impetuous new-rock prog-lovers find a home on Pretty Girls Make Graves bassist Derek Fudesco's Cold Crush label. But how to explain the goth shadings and breezy pop excursions, sometimes in the very same song, off last year's Sunset in the Eye of the Hurricane? Bad News First and Tides also perform. Mon/12, 9 p.m., Cafe du Nord, 2170 Market, S.F. $7. (415) 861-5016.

Camera Obscura The sublime stepchildren of Belle and Sebastian make up for the womanly absence of Isobel Campbell among their fellow Scottish chamber-poppers. Here vocalist-guitarist Tracyanne Campbell (no relation) gives voice to tender, nostalgia-wracked tunes like "Suspended from Class" and "Books Written for Girls." They make you want to draw that teddy bear – or Super 8 camera – closer. Remedy n'Wren and the Music Lovers also perform. July 14, 9 p.m. Great American Music Hall, 859 O'Farrell, S.F. $13-$15. (415) 885-0750.

Wrens There's magic in The Meadowlands (Absolutely Kosher), the Wrens' 2003 indie rock masterpiece. These guys may wax low-key and dadlike, but they sure can craft exquisite pop fit for the gods. Jim Yoshii Pile-Up and Film School (July 16 only) also perform. July 15-16, 9 p.m., Great American Music Hall, 859 O' Farrell, S.F. $13-$15. (415) 885-0750.

Gary Hudson Slow-burning ex-Blue Mountain denizen Gary Hudson plies bluesy Southern rock of an intense ilk. His second solo album, Cool Breeze, is a breath of fresh air, evocative of the rural sounds from his Mississippi stomping grounds. Patterson Hood and Virgil Shaw also perform. July 17, 9 p.m., 12 Galaxies, 2565 Mission, S.F. $10. (415) 970-9777.

Delays A smooth pop amalgam of old labelmates such as Throwing Muses and Cocteau Twins, Delays waft in on a jet of euphoric dream pop, Faded Seaside Glamour (Rough Trade). Cult of Suburbia and the Pale also perform. July 26, 9 p.m., Bottom of the Hill, 1233 17th St., S.F. $8. (415) 474-0365.

Ghostly International Tour with Matthew Dear and Dabrye The ghosts in the machine come out to play. Ghostly International and Spectral Sound bring out microhouse maven Matthew Dear, who's put together a new vocals-focused live show, and hip-hop futurist Dabrye. Expect appearances by a rotating cast of glitchy characters. July 30, Mezzanine, 444 Jessie, S.F. Call for time and price. (415) 820-9669.

K.C.

Contact Kimberly Chun at kimberly@sfbg.com.