If Magnuson's dream reminds you of A Star Is Born or perhaps Valley of the Dolls, it's no coincidence. Such is the premise behind The Luv Show (Geffen), an admittedly cheesy, brazen rehash of every rags-to-riches cliché -- except here, the story is more like rags to rags. Joyfully -- and hilariously -- sending up those star-vehicle films while paying tribute to their unflappable optimism, The Luv Show holds a mirror up to the microcosm of popular culture. A musical grab bag that features rockers and ballads, with styles appropriated from the '50s through the '70s, the CD serves as the soundtrack to the movie in Magnuson's head.

The disc opens with the folksy "Dead Moth," a metaphor for our heroine's feeling of stagnation in a jerkwater town. "Who's that walking down the lane?/Does baby Jesus know your name?" she asks, evoking Tori Amos's obtuse ramblings. Restlessness follows on "This Nothing Life," where Magnuson sings "Don't stop smoking pot/Don't stop to wonder/Don't stop to shop" while lamenting that her world is going in circles. This nihilistic ditty could be a gentle jab at Courtney Love, especially when Magnuson (drawing out her syllables like some punk rocker on lithium) declares: "This nothing, nothing life . . . I love to complain." Guitarist Art Byington neatly wraps the song in spirals of grunge-pop riffs, playing off the trippy bassline of Acetone's Richie Lee. Their alternative-meets-psychedelic approach complements Magnuson's barbed-edge storytelling with aplomb, making tracks like "It's a Great Feeling" (a paean to the mind-numbing effects of narcotics) and the outrageously funny "Miss Pussy Pants" go beyond conventional parody.

Fans of Magnuson's former project Bongwater, with Shimmy-Disc honcho Kramer, will note that his absence here is felt not musically but psychically -- the result of an ongoing lawsuit over profits from Bongwater recordings. On "Manipulative Kennedy-esque Celebrity Fucker," Magnuson exacts her revenge: "Had your way for so long/Had me for too goddamn long/And now it's time to die/I'm gonna cut you down, down, down!"

On the playful side, Magnuson sambas her way through "Sex with the Devil." Doing an uncanny Carmen Miranda impersonation, she takes camp to new levels: "I'm about to come/When the Devil wants his fun/Because I'm a tart/He plunges his pitchfork through my heart."

Using Los Angeles as a backdrop, Magnuson's sad, sleazy little tale of dashed hopes and exploited innocence scores points for social satire. "L.A. Donut Day" sums it up nicely -- it's a dark, brooding number where Magnuson's perky la-la-las underscore the tune's desolate musings. Amid a sparse guitar/bass/drum arrangement, the melody is strangely reminiscent of Nirvana. Its payoff comes when Magnuson says "I-I-I wanna . . . donut/I feel glazed" while the band build up to a big, bombastic climax. The final scene in this bittersweet drama is "I Remember You," complete with roller-rink organ and a chorus borrowed from the theme to A Man and a Woman. The tale ends with a comet destroying life on Earth while Magnuson remarks to her celluloid Romeo: "And in that Instamatic Polaroid flash/I looked into your big blue marble Steve McQueen eyes and smiled." Magnuson performed this "cinematic spectacle" on stage in LA and New York. Let's hope she takes The Luv Show on the road to a "two-drink minimum" dive near us.

-- David Gérard