There’s a Starman Brian Wilson, Pamela & Michael Des Barres, Henry Rollins, Kato Kaelin and hundreds more came out to salute radio legend (and Nightranger pal) Rodney Bingenheimer, who finally got a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame last Friday. Yup, Friday was officially “Rodney Day.” Literally. First came the ceremony in front of the Knitting Factory, where his star now gleams for eternity (see the Rock & Roll Love Letter for more scoop), then a luncheon at Canter’s, where, for the first time ever, Rodney actually didn’t sit at “his” table, dining instead in the Kibbitz Room with his stepmom and new mod gal pal, as friends and fans crowded around him and chomped on free deli sandwiches. Well-wishers included Giddle Partridge, Boyd Rice, Inger Lorre, Clem Burke, Don Bolles, John Easedale and two “stellar” fellas from the English Disco days, Chuck E Star (a club regular known for donning the largest platforms — 14 inches! — of the ’70s) and Jett Starsystems (a former DJ at the club, and member of Zolar X). There was no sign of Beach Boy Wilson, though, who also left the ceremony before the speech he was scheduled to give. Apparently, there was some confusion, and someone — maybe from KROQ? — told Wilson there wouldn’t be time, so he split. Bummer. Fortunately the show that night in Rodney’s honor, at the Henry Fonda Music Box, was outstanding. We missed The Nymphs, but got there just in time for Redd Kross, who seriously get better every time we see ’em. It’s a crazy, crazy world we live in when musicians like Jeff & SteveMcDonald aren’t super-rich and famous. (If they hadn’t taken that hiatus, who knows?) Bingenheimer himself introduced The Donnas, who unveiled not only new material but a more sophisticated glam look, with heavy glitter makeup and sequined accessories… or maybe that was just for Rodney. After the show, there was a party on the roof, but, alas, it was pretty sparse. The all-day festivities left everyone, including the star man himself, wiped out. Even this li’l GTO (“girl together outrageously” — thanks, Miss Pamela) ran outta gas. Don’t worry, though, we’re already refueled.

LA Weekly