Like most anybody native to these parts who has sought music with roots in the British Invasion, the L.A. scene of the '60s, glam-rock and punk, I grew up hearing Rodney Bingenheimer blare his favorites on the radio. And like anyone who once clamored for his scene-shaping show "Rodney on the ROQ," I insist I can do a decent impression of the shy little gnome with the rooster hair and the cartoonish voice.

It isn't too hard to fake. It's a high-pitched voice, like a boy's that hasn't changed, but with a spaced-out sensibility - so that when he goes off on tangents he almost sounds like a fey version of Dustin Hoffman in "Rain Man." Add to that a California accent and traces of Snagglepuss (as in "exit stage left"). Then rattle off what might be on Rodney's latest playlist, placing excited (but not too excited) emphasis on each name.

Like this: "Hi, this is Rodney on the ROQ ... and we just heard the new single from COLDPLAY ... wow, great song ... and before that was something rare from the RAMONES mmm-hmmm ... and later on we're gonna speak with BRIAN WILSON!"

Hear it once, you never forget it. Jed the Fish should be so lucky to have such an unmistakable voice.

Chris Carter does a great Rodney. Hunkered down in a hallway at the Mondrian Hotel, the former Dramarama bassist now working as a DJ and movie producer slips into it while telling me a story about a very nervous Rodney calling the notorious Allen Klein to acquire the rights to a Herman's Hermits song, one of 66 music cues in the new documentary "Mayor of the Sunset Strip," opening today in L.A. and Orange County.

Six years in the making, the film, directed by George Hickenlooper, is an intimate, eye- opening peer into Rodney's surreal, "Zelig"-like life and times. Originally designed by Carter as a book, it soon became a cinematic thank-you to the man who launched his career, a movie "about rock history, yeah, but it's also about why people come to Hollywood, about what kind of people come to Hollywood and what happens to them after they get here. And Rodney is at the eye of that hurricane."

If you're aware of its subject, "Mayor" is a lively testament to an unsung impresario, with friends like Bowie, Cher, Debbie Harry, Courtney Love and Nancy Sinatra explaining how it was that Rodney became the ultimate Hollywood scenester with a reputation far exceeding his accomplishments. That the star-struck son of a domineering autograph-hound mother began as Davy Jones' double on "The Monkees" and Sonny Bono's gofer and wound up languishing in near-obscurity, his radio show relegated to the wee hours on Sunday nights ... well, it's somehow fitting.

"You go to a party and there's some drunk people there, then you're the designated driver," Rodney says in the film. "Well, I'm the designated driver between the famous and the not-so-famous."

If you're unaware of Rodney - as is the case with most of America - then "Mayor" is more a meditation on celebrity, particularly how products of broken homes (like Rodney) seek solace in chasing fame. It was this subject, not Rodney's role in pop lore, that intrigued Hickenlooper, known for acclaimed films both fictional ("The Man From Elysian Fields") and factual ("Hearts of Darkness," about the making of "Apocalypse Now").

"Rodney is not only fascinated with celebrity, he's created celebrity through that fascination," he says. Initially on the fence about the project, Hickenlooper was convinced there was more to Rodney than meets the eye when he saw his apartment, covered from floor to ceiling in photos featuring Rodney posing with every celeb imaginable.

"I was overwhelmed - not so much by the photos themselves but by Rodney's reactions to them. He went from being this guy who's demure to being very animated. He's transformed by those photos."

Therein lay a theme: "Rodney is like a living piece of Andy Warhol art. He's an analogy for where our culture has come in the last 30 years in its fascination with celebrity. I really see him as a pivotal, uncelebrated figure."

As does Carter, one of Rodney's closest friends. His hope is that "Mayor" lines Rodney's bank account, as he shares in the profits. Given that it was acquired by First Look Pictures for $1.3 million, the most for any doc since "Bowling for Columbine," Rodney should be doing OK now.

But there's the future to consider. The film has a bittersweet ending, as we witness Rodney's dreams of greater fame fail to materialize and his personal life deteriorate. That may be painful for local fans to watch; unlike the voyeuristic glee of learning about toppled giants via "The E! True Hollywood Story," there's no joy in discovering the real Rodney.