Some pop stars pick up some cash on the side by peddling their songs to fast food chains, some even slap their mugs on ad campaigns for fancy-smellin' toilet water.| But Pavement drummer Bob Nastanovich, a man after our own heart, has taken a far less unseemly path to extra riches -- he races a stable of horses on Kentucky's thoroughbred circuit. Nastanovich has had mixed results with his string, but he hit paydirt last Sunday when two of his charges won races at Turfway Park. In the second race, three-year-old Speedy Service brought home the bacon at a generous 10-1, while three races later, Nastanovich's Festive Amigo emerged victorious in a sprint race -- bringing the stable a little over ten grand on the day. Okay, so the return isn't up there with hawking Bowie Bonds -- but those won't nibble your ear when you visit 'em ... as far as we know, that is.

When British pop diva Dusty Springfield shuffled off this mortal coil last month, countless tributes touched on her many facets -- from sultry songstress to underground icon. We can't, however, recall any mentioning her role as crazy cat lady -- a role we can't criticize too much, since we can relate to it pretty well ourselves. It seems that Dusty's will calls for plenty of loot to be set aside so that her beloved kitty, Nicholas, can live out his remaining years in finest feline fashion. As per the late singer's wishes, the thirteen-year-old pussycat will be plied with his favorite chow (a high-end brand of imported baby food), his drug of choice (catnip, of course) and his favorite tunes (by -- who else? -- his late mistress). Dusty even took steps to see that Nicholas', er, "other" needs will be taken care of: He's slated to marry the five-year-old female cat of a close pal in a private ceremony later this spring.

We've gotten used to rock performers acting like cartoon characters, but when they start thinking of themselves as superheroes, well, that's when we start to get a little concerned. Take cuddly Britpoppers Supergrass, for instance, who've decided to enter the two-dimensional world by way of a brand new video game called Sliver. Singer Gaz Coombes and bassist Mickey Quinn have both had themselves morphed into swashbuckling swordsmen (try saying that five times fast) for the medieval-themed game, which should be in stores later this year.

If you thought Marilyn Manson had cornered the market on all-around outrage, just wait'll you get a load of the Reverend Chris Korda (no relation to the Reverend Horton Heat), who's just released a debut CD that he hopes will draw attention to his flock -- The First Church of Euthanasia. In a move sure to win friends and influence people, the cover photo of Six Billion Humans Can't Be Wrong places Korda reclining in a genuine concentration camp oven -- at the infamous Dachau camp, to be precise. The disc, which essentially rehashes the "church" beliefs that abortion, cannibalism and sodomy should be employed to implement "voluntary population reduction," is kicked off by a pro-Hannibal Lecter ditty called "Fleshdance." Korda doesn't just talk the talk about such matters, either: He's reportedly held human meat tastings, crashed pro-life rallies with burning fetuses in tow and generally made a nuisance of himself for the past four years, which makes the move into creating annoying music quite a logical one.

DAVID SPRAGUE(April 9, 1999)