Surreality TV

''Viva Laughlin,'' you got nothin' on ''Cop Rock''

The countdown has begun. We are now one day away from the debut of Viva Laughlin. (Unless you're reading this after Wednesday, Oct. 17, in which case you can do the math yourself.) You've probably heard the buzz on CBS' Laughlin, but in case you haven't, let me just say this: It's bad. Really bad. It's a story of a convenience-store magnate trying to get into the casino business. It's adapted from a popular BBC show. It is exec-produced by Hugh Jackman (who appears in the pilot as bad guy Nicky Fontana), and it also stars Melanie Griffith. All sounds pretty legit, right? Well, there's one thing I haven't told you: The characters periodically break out into song. Yep. There's Jackman strutting through a casino trying to look evil while crooning ''Sympathy for the Devil.'' There's Griffith trying to seduce someone in her lingerie while busting out Blondie's ''One Way or Another.'' I think it's appropriate to note at this time that Viva Laughlin is not a comedy.

Laughlin is daring and different, to be sure. And at a time when police procedurals and nerdy superheroes have taken over television, that should be applauded. But it's also kinda embarrassing, especially when your lead actor (Lloyd Owen) can't carry a tune. But I have to admit, I'm actually excited about Laughlin and have already set up a season pass (which will probably only last about three episodes before the show gets pulled). Now, is the reason I set up said season pass because I simply can't wait to see America's most gifted overactor extraordinaire, D.B. Woodside (best known as 24's other President Palmer), show off his singing voice? Maybe. But I also just can't avoid the spectacle of the entire thing. Which is why in preparation for this momentous achievement in broadcasting, I went back and watched the pilot episode of another infamous televised musical drama (and I'm not counting one-off stunt episodes like Buffy) — Cop Rock.

Here's the biggest difference between Laughlin and Cop Rock: Laughlin is silly, but Cop Rock is just downright surreal. I find myself dumbfounded that many songs from that short-lived show were penned by Oscar-winning composer Randy Newman because, man, are they horrible. It starts right from the first scene of the first episode, where the police raid a crack house and are taking some suspects away. How do these perps fight the power? Through song! A riot-like chant breaks out about who owns the streets, only to be interrupted by some truly wretched rapping. Don't believe me? Try this dope rhyme on for size: ''He calls you son/ He's not your dad/ He's just a dumb white cop/ You made him mad.'' That's perhaps the lamest rap line I've ever heard in my life, which, I suppose, is not all that unexpected, considering it comes from the man behind that notable gangsta anthem ''I Love L.A.''

Series creator Stephen Bochco (the man behind such non-musical dramas as Hill Street Blues, L.A. Law, and NYPD Blue) must have considered rapping perps to be ''gritty'' or something, but it actually comes off more as another word that rhymes with gritty yet begins with the letters sh. But this is just the beginning. The next song from the Cop Rock pilot features what I believe is an internal affairs officer dissing himself while thanking his lucky stars for his marriage: ''Not much to talk to, and I know how I look/ What I know about life, comes out of a book/ But of all of the people there are in the world, she chose me.'' Dude, how about a little self-esteem? You're a cop, for crying out loud! And not just any cop, but IAD! That means you can pull all sorts of shady stuff, and there's no one to stop you. You could be a total pimp! And I'm not saying this to mean you could be studly or something; I mean a literal pimp. You can have your own stable of 'hos and everything — women at your beck and call! Turn that frown upside down, mister.

Later we are presented with a musical number about political corruption when the mayor (who informs us halfway through the number that ''I was born in Delaware, behind the Dover railway station/ I came to city at a very early age'' — even though I'm pretty sure that doesn't rhyme) accepts a bribe for handing out a jail-building contract, and a tense courtroom scene climaxes with a jury magically morphing into a gospel choir (complete with organ and tambourines) to deliver its verdict of guilty.

But none of this — none of it — can prepare you for the closing number: a tender little ditty between a crackhead mommy and her baby, which she is about to sell for $200. ''Close your eyes now, little girl/ Go to sleep, my little baby/ Sandman's coming soon,'' she serenades her child, although it is unclear if the Sandman is a metaphor for sleep or an actual creature she has manufactured in her cracked-out brain that comes and attacks little babies when Mama doesn't get her fix. I have to give the mom props though — for a basehead, she can really sing. How many times have we sat through a crackhead performance that starts promisingly but eventually degenerates into the artist swatting at imaginary locusts or altering the lyrics to make all the words rhyme with ''rock'' or ''pipe''? Not here. She may be ready to ditch her own flesh and blood, but dammit, she's gonna at least give this baby three minutes of undivided attention before she sells her off to a complete stranger.

Unfortunately, Laughlin is nowhere as bizarre as Cop Rock, but for now, it's all we have. Which is exactly why I've already season-passed this sucker until it meets its untimely demise. As long as Woodside gets to belt it out before then, I'll be happy. So happy I may just have to break out into song myself.

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