Let Us Now Praise Famous Men Moviestars . . . When my friend told me the name of the band I was listening to, I wondered why no one had thought of it before: Moviestars. I thought on this familiar name some more, of movie stars then and now, of how stardom has given way to celebrity in America, and what's the difference? I thought of Andy Warhol's comment on the duration of world-fame in the future, of his make-believe, altruistic world where, one day, we'll all be known for a quarter of an hour, where we'll all take turns being famous. And I thought of the artist's movie stars, those blown up not only larger than life, but larger than the myths of stardom and beauty, and those movie stars that he cast in his long flicks depicting real life. And I thought of one of the artist's less quoted remarks: that "If everyone's not a beauty, then no one is." So I have been fortunate enough to hear this band whose name may well have been scribbled in and crossed out on a piece of paper with The Velvet Underground circled. I found them, appropriately enough, lax students of the Reed/Cale/Morrison/Tucker school who have matriculated, latterly, under the guidance of Kramer, whose production genius contributed so much to the development of Galaxie 500 and Low. You'll hear guitar chords played neat; bass lines, clean; percussion, simple. Warm English horn, cello, organ, and the occasional Weather Channel audio reel complement this sound. Lyrics like "tell me something different/or say something the same" inhabit the songs. Maybe Moviestars is an experiment; maybe it will be repeated. The atmosphere is familiar, but regeneration is not redundancy, and repetition -- which is the domain of humankind far more than the machine -- can show movement forward and re-humanize just as powerfully as it can desensitize. Maybe Moviestars' fifteen minutes is soon to begin. Llewellyn Thomas.