What I find amusing are superstars penning songs about the soul-destroying search of fame. Long gone are the days of innocence when you could be sipping a milkshake at the Schwab’s drugstore on Sunset Boulevard and the next thing you know, you’re doing the soft-shoe with Gene Kelly on the set of ‘Achors Aweigh’. I suspect some sort of persistent pursuit of attention has gone on behind the scenes to get yourself seen and heard, so it really seems like a case of the pot calling the kettle black. The pot, in this case Michael Buble, has released a happy little piece of fluff from his third edition of the Crazy Love album (boy, does he get mileage out of 13 songs!) where he imitates Bieber and goes nuclear on some over-eager paps. “Hollywood” has it all, horns, chorus girls, big energetic production and even a message about Hollywood being dead and finding happiness in yourself. And why not? We need a bit of cheer in these darkening winter evenings when the news are full of stories of a future where none of us can afford to retire and the endless ticker tape screams of a another young fallen hero. Buble’s biggest successes seem to come from original material, (how cute was “Haven’t Met you Yet”?) so if I was him, I’d give the old standards a heave-ho and concentrate on melting cougar hearts with some brand spanking new warbles of love.