Kelsey Grammer’s new sitcom, “Hank,” is in no way a match for his considerable talent (unlike the never-given-a-chance “Back to You”).

But, I keep hoping it will improve, so I keep it on the TiVo list (the shows airs at 8 p.m. Wednesdays on ABC).

And, since the point of the show is that Grammer’s tumble from corporate wealth in New York has sent his family scurrying to the fictional town of River Bend, Va., I feel some odd obligation to watch, thinking there might be some funny Virginia references.

Instead, last night we got Grammer’s bratty daughter moaning to her boyfriend via Web cam, “I’ve only been in Virginia two weeks and I’m already becoming one of them. Today, I said y’all.”

Please. Any New Yorker knows that is an impossibility.

But, in the same ep, a U.Va. sweatshirt made a brief appearance in a scene about laundry – so my 22 minutes with “Hank” wasn’t a total waste.

Really, it’s the perfect show to keep on in the background while you surf the Web.

Meanwhile, back in New York, Tina Fey and the “30 Rock’ crew haven’t missed a clever beat since last season for its return tonight at 9:30 on NBC.

While “Hank” tackles the economic crisis and collapse of big business with obvious jokes about Grammer being uncomfortable and clueless about anything that wasn’t part of his former Wall Street honcho life, “30 Rock” approaches the same topic with its usual shrewd wink.

Alec Baldwin’s Jack Donaghy gripes about company downsizing while cashing his hefty bonus check, Jenna (the Emmy-robbed Jane Krakowski) reinvents herself as a country singer as a method of reaching Middle America (the closing credits “Tennis Night in America” is the funniest thing you’ll see all week) and Tracy Morgan is even occasionally funny when he realizes that wealth and fame have caused him to lose touch with his roots.

And then this kicker: “There’s nothing wrong with being fun and popular and giving the people what they want,” Jack lectures Liz, before delivering a deliciously wicked jab at Jay Leno.

Welcome back, “30 Rock.” The fall season’s IQ just jumped 40 points.

Last night, downtown Richmond actually looked like a real city with a thriving entertainment scene.

David Copperfield at CenterStage, David Cook at The National, a noticeable crowd at T-Miller’s and Gibson’s after both shows. Nice going, RIC.

Inside the Nat, about 800 people – many of them females college age and older – clamored to get closer to last year’s “American Idol” winner, the charming, scruffy Cook.

For about an hour and 15 minutes, Cook and his impressively tight four-piece band ripped out a string of sinewy pop rock that, when it worked, was passionate and anthemic and when it didn’t, became a somewhat staid collection of non-descript power chords.

The opening “Mr. Sensitive” was accompanied by an arena-ready light show as four panels blinked and reflected a rainbow of colors and a pummel of strobes were well-timed to the huskier parts of the song.

Though Cook’s voice was often difficult to discern over the heavy guitar riffs – the lyrics to “Heroes” and “Breathe Tonight” were a complete mystery to those who haven’t memorized every line of his platinum-selling debut album – it wasn’t for a lack of trying.

He’s definitely following the Daughtry path, but, while that “Idol” alum often bellows for the sake of establishing his rock cred, Cook is a bit more nuanced. He knows how to control his voice, evidenced on an acoustic version of “Life on the Moon,” delivered with a sincerity that benefited from its quiet musical backdrop.

Considering this was the 131st show of his Declaration Tour (something he mentioned from the stage), Cook’s voice has held up well, with only a few strains heard during the show as he grappled to reach some challenging notes.

“Bar-Ba-Sol,” in particular, was a grueling number that found Cook clutching the microphone stand with two hands as drummer Kyle Peek – a Tommy Lee in the making – slammed a swinging backbeat.

But the highlight of the night also pointed out the show’s biggest shortcoming.

After chatting with the crowd about the band’s run though college towns over the summer, Cook, in a standard uniform of gray jeans and a black T-shirt, dedicated the next song to all of the “educational professionals” in the crowd.

What followed was an amazingly faithful version of Van Halen’s “Hot for Teacher,” certainly not the easiest song to cover. While Peek and lead guitarist Neal Tiemann weren’t quite the Van Halen brothers, they nailed enough drum fills and whizzing finger tapping to jolt the crowd into a new bracket of energy. Cook even contributed a credible song-ending, “Oh my…God!” that would have given David Lee Roth a chuckle.

On “Idol,” a huge part of Cook’s appeal was his masterful reinterpretation of his song choices (Collective Soul’s “The World I Know,” which he performed on the finale, seemed to be the cover song of choice at several of his recent concerts).

Obviously, he wants to push his nearly year-old CD and play those tunes – as well as some from his pre-reality show days— and also give the crowd a chance to sing along with his radio staples “Come Back to Me” and “Light On.”

But his Cook-i-fied “Hello” would be an awesome live treat. Or how about a little Michael Jackson tribute with “Billie Jean”? A shout-out to Mariah Carey with “Always Be My Baby”?

No? OK. Then we’ll take “We’re Only Honest When We’re Sleeping” and look for those glorious “Idol” moments on YouTube.

If you’re one of those Rick Springfield fans willing to wince through the crass “Californication” just to see the ageless hunk in action (seriously, how is it possible that this man is 60?) get the TiVo set for 10 p.m. Sunday.

But a heads-up – there is very little Springfield in this first of four episodes he’ll appear in throughout the season of the Showtime series. Don’t look for him in the Oct. 18 ep, either. Gotta give David Duchovny’s sleazy Hank Moody more time to ruminate over whether he should sleep with his stripper/student, his teacher’s aide or the wife of his boss, the dean at the university where he now teaches. Or maybe he’ll take a spin with all of them since Moody’s libido is the engine of “Californication.”

I don’t know what it is about this show – I’m impossible to offend and I adore Duchovny, yet I can’t get past the ick factor in nearly every scene.

Anyway, Springfield is basically playing a more salacious version of himself when he’s summoned to a restaurant meeting with Moody’s agent, Charlie (Evan Handler), and his boss, Sue Collini (Kathleen Turner, looking like a drag queen and sounding as if she burns through a carton of Parliaments every day).

Though he looks great and that hint of Australian accent is still present, Springfield’s only scene is a quick conversation with the two agents about reviving his career.

The rabid followers will be happy to know that not only is Springfield working on a new album, a children’s book and an autobiography, but he’ll bare his backside by the end of his “Californication” stint this season. Shades of “Hard to Hold”?

Bruce Hornsby isn’t a star – he’s a musician.

And if you attended Hornsby’s concert expecting to hear faithful radio re-creations of his adult contemporary hits, well, you probably walked out of The National scratching your head – but hopefully at least feeling a bit more musically enlightened.

At Saturday’s sold-out show – technically a hometown gig since he hails from Williamsburg – Hornsby tackled the piano, dulcimer and accordion for about three hours, never seemingly knowing where the music was going to take him or his awesome Noisemakers band, but always managing to find the sweet spot.

Set lists are almost verboten at a Hornsby gig; he prefers fielding written requests from the crowd (check out his Web site, http://www.brucehornsby.com to see collages of some of his favorites) and allowing his band to follow his lead.

He got to work quickly Saturday night, approaching his piano with a handful of requests, the sleeves of his dark, button-down shirt rolled up. “Big Rock Candy Mountain” began with Hornsby solo at the piano, but the rest of the Noisemakers gradually joined in, building to a crescendo, in a scene that would be repeated frequently throughout his two generous sets.

It’s been many years since Hornsby played Richmond with a full band – he noted from the stage that he couldn’t remember the last time, either, but we’re going to guess it was at least the mid-‘90s – and this quintet of stellar musicians only augmented the loose, free-flowing vibe of the night.

“We like the setting of this place. We like the feel of it,” Hornsby said about his first-ever visit to The National.

“White Wheeled Limousine” was an exhausting musical workout, as Hornsby played jazzy, circular piano patterns and saxophonist Bobby Read – who also handled woodwinds and flute during the concert – poured out a searing solo.

Hornbsy is touring behind his just-released album, “Levitate,” and performed “Continents Drift,” a ballad colored with synthesizers and mandolin that is also part of the soundtrack to the off-Broadway show he’s been working on for a few years.

As further proof of his chameleonic musical abilities, Hornsby sat in a folding chair at the edge of the stage, dulcimer on his lap, for the funky hoe-down “Shadow Hand,” then strapped on an accordion for the Ricky Skaggs-bluegrass version of “Jacob’s Ladder” (remember when Huey Lewis and the News hit No. 1 on the charts with their soul-pop rendition in 1987?).

The casual fans got one of the few tastes of Hornsby’s mainstream work as he closed the first set by joking, “Let’s do a song by Tupac Shakur,” then launched into “The Way It Is,” his breakthrough smash sampled by many artists, including the late rapper.

An artist of Hornsby’s caliber is always going to turn his work inside out, both for the challenge and to examine its structure. The backbone of this version of “The Way It Is” resembled the original, but then the song was shifted onto another plane when a meaty drum solo by the terrific Sonny Emory was plopped into it.

During the second set, Hornsby briefly got radio friendly again with “Walk In the Sun,” a stirring midtempo song stuffed with those rich Hornsby chord progressions that, he said dryly, “Got to number 55 with an anchor on the Billboard 100 in 1995.”

Shifting pace again, he and the band strutted through “Simple Prayer,” a fun pop song with a N’Awlins swing that Harry Connick Jr. would appreciate.

Even though there is nothing ostentatious about a Hornsby concert, effective lighting offered the slightest drama on stage – not to mention, it was easy to be rendered slack-jawed at some of his piano runs.

So no, Hornsby isn’t the guy you’re going to see profiled in People Magazine, but you might find him talking about his craft to Keyboard Magazine – which is exactly where you want to see him.

By Hays Davis

 
He didn’t call it the “Theatre of Death” tour for nothing, to be sure.  Even aside from perishing in various ways throughout the show, Alice Cooper amazed a house full of the faithful by bringing out practically every trick in his book when he unveiled a coliseum-size show in the theater-size National.

    While not exactly a young man these days, Alice put makeup and wardrobe changes to good use (as with the age-defying Kiss), and amid the various sinister onstage scenarios and props he came across the same as always:  good ol’ Alice.

    Soon after kicking off the night with “School’s Out,” the first of a string of vignettes played out, with Alice getting the guillotine for impaling a stage extra.  Under huge, hanging A-L-I-C-E letters, there was always a new visual as the band rolled from one song to another:  masked dancers, Alice on a crutch made of bones, and a parade of actors. 

    The band, not surprisingly younger than their boss, seemed to genuinely love their job, and they pounded away happily at Alice’s songs and dodged the action as the singer got himself into one spot of trouble after another.  Strangling an evil nurse landed him in a noose during “Be My Lover,” not long after getting his ticket punched via a giant syringe.

    As the set moved from “Dirty Diamonds” to “Billion Dollar Babies,” Alice grabbed necklaces from a bejeweled wagon and tossed them to the crowd.  It was at this point that he seemed particularly interesting; dropping genuinely into character, he believably came across as being sort of casually deranged. 

    It probably shocked more than one audience member when he suddenly lopped off the doll’s head with his sword to the last chord of “Billion,” then sang to it, Yorick-style, for Alice’s version of a “Hamlet” moment.  This won his demise in a version of an iron maiden.

    Alice obviously still loves his job, and plenty of longtime fans turned out, even with their children in some cases.  The singer seemed determined to give his many returning concertgoers something wildly different, and though his visual and musical set of greatest hits didn’t include a live boa, offering the chance to grab dollar bills from the tip of his sword and dancing with the deceased during “Cold Ethyl” seemed the warmest kind of warped thank-you.
     
   

“American Idol” victor Kris Allen always had a way with a cover. For his first official single, he’s put his stamp on “Live Like We’re Dying,” a lush slice of pop from Ireland’s The Script (an impressive band who I caught opening for McCartney this summer at Citi Field).

This time, though, Allen didn’t take many liberties with the original, right down to the Dylan-ish bridge.

What do you think? Will it be a hit (it goes to radio tomorrow) or will Allen be this season’s Blake Lewis, albeit with a bigger paycheck and less goofy hair?

Congrats to Bryan Cranston for winning his second consecutive Emmy for Outstanding Lead Actor in a Drama Series.

Cranston stars in AMC’s eccentric “Breaking Bad” as a former chemistry teacher who turned to selling meth to pay for his lung cancer treatments.

The show is created, written, directed and produced by Richmond native Vince Gilligan, whom Cranston called “brilliant” in his acceptance speech.

“[The show] is about a good man who makes bad decisions,” Cranston said from L.A.’s Nokia Theatre stage, holding his award aloft. “I stand before you a humbled man very grateful for the decision the Academy has made to honor me.”

“Breaking Bad” has been renewed for a third season, set to begin in March.

Photo: AP Photos/Mark J. Terrill

It’s pretty brilliant when you think about the choices in “It Might Get Loud,” because the three subjects being followed in this guitar-centric documentary couldn’t be more disparate.

There’s the clean, ringing sounds from The Edge, who adores his playground of effects that give him his “voice” and is even quite transparent as a person – he’s quietly funny, thoughtful and studious and meticulous about his craft.

Then there is Jack White, the purist who has no use for technology and “likes to pick a fight” with his guitar – which explains why his instrument was often smudged with blood after a fervent White Stripes performance.

And, looking every bit the elder statesman that he is with his sweep of silver hair, stands Jimmy Page, the ‘60s guitar god, the guy who co-wrote “Stairway to Heaven” and tells the camera that his approach to his roaring, passionate sound was “all about the dynamics – whisper to the thunder.”

This trio of axe-men convened at a soundstage on Jan. 23, 2008, to swap guitar techniques, tell stories about their influences and jam on one nifty round-robin of slide guitar (they also perform a song at the end of the film, but no need to spoil the surprise).

Though some might gripe that the footage of Page, The Edge and White talking and playing together is too meager, you need to know all of the parts before you can understand and appreciate the sum.

Director Davis Guggenheim, who also helmed “An Inconvenient Truth,” and, we’re sorry to report, the pilot of the modernized “Melrose Place,” does a fine job here of interspersing the summit meeting with footage of each man not only in his habitat, but in places that are meaningful to the history of his band.

The Edge gives a tour of the school where he found the flyer tacked to a bulletin board, the one placed there by U2 drummer Larry Mullen Jr., seeking a guitarist.

Page (a co-producer of the doc) returns to the storied Headley Grange, in the English countryside, and explains how the mics were placed along the staircase banister for the recording of “When the Levee Breaks.”

And White is frequently shown listening to and playing along with old blues records, the foundation of his sound that, along with a general fondness for all roots music, undoubtedly inspired his collaboration with Loretta Lynn a few years ago.

Most exciting, though, is the see-sawing footage of past and present, or, in Page’s case, present and past.

The Edge stands in a grotty kitchen and plays a cassette tape of the first guitar tracks from “Where the Streets Have No Name” (though who can believe him when he says, “I have no idea what’s on these tapes” before popping it in?), and 30 seconds later, we’re transported to the song being performed on the last U2 tour, in front of a stadium full of fist-thrusting fans.

Page, who looks happier than he ever did in Led Zeppelin, humorously plays air guitar – yes, even Jimmy Page plays air guitar – to some of his favorite old blues records, before the film cuts to Zep onstage in their heyday, Page’s dark mop of hair concealing his face as his hands actually blur from his swift movement.

And, White Stripes fans will surely be amused at some footage of Jack and Meg White playing for the stately older gentlemen at the Chelsea Pension Home. At least they kept it acoustic, with Meg playing with brushes, before cutting to the Stripes live onstage, raw and screaming. That might have given a few of the poor guys a heart attack.

“It Might Get Loud” is necessary viewing for any music fan – especially those who like to dive beneath the surface a bit and actually care how The Edge constructed the monster riff from “Get On Your Boots” (not so massive when you hear it without his layering of effects).

But it’s a scene in which Page rips out the intro to “Whole Lotta Love” for the guys that epitomizes everything: as Page plays, White moves his guitar off his lap, almost as if it isn’t worthy of being in the same room with such greatness and The Edge stands up and walks over for a closer view, studying Page’s fingering like a kid watching his first instructional guitar video.

It is a moment of deserved reverence in a movie that celebrates the instrument that is the connective tissue in music.

“It Might Get Loud” is currently playing at Westhampton.

Those who tuned into the MTV Video Music Awards Sunday have to agree that Janet Jackson’s tribute to her brother was sharp, well-crafted and well-meaning.

I applaud anyone who can do that leap-from-your-knees-to-your-feet maneuver at any age, never mind that Janet is 43 and still demonstrates some killer moves.

On Saturday at 12:30 p.m., MTV will bring you behind the scenes of how the Michael Jackson tribute gelled, starting with the first day of rehearsals. Calling it “the performance of a lifetime” (as says the press release) is a tad hyperbolic, but I hope the show answers my sole question: were those dancers during the “Thriller,” “Bad” and “Smooth Criminal” segments the same now-unemployed folks who were chosen to perform at Michael’s “This Is It” shows?

Credit: PictureGroup/MTV

Here’s the first problem with the new “The Jay Leno Show” on Monday nights – massive interference with Monday Night Football.

Did I want to turn to NBC with 1:48 left in a nail-biter of a game between the New England Patriots and the underdog Buffalo Bills who were about to blow a huge win?

Any other night, not a chance.

So expect some wrangling over the remote between couples in TiVo-less households.

Leno’s return after a three-month absence (really? Is that all it has been?) opened on a subdued note as the Now Ready For Primetime Player strode through an odd set of glass doors and beelined to a pool of audience members at the front of the stage.

“This is not another annoying promo, this is the actual show,” Leno said immediately to the fawning crowd – and those of us watching at home who indeed are completely tired of those annoying promos.

Then it was a quick Kanye West/Taylor Swift joke and bam! Leno was back with his trademark bad-dum-bum jokes.

Politics. Serena Williams. Football. Topical chatter for a minute and then a cutaway to a dopey takeoff on the idiotic show “Cheaters” – is that really going to appeal to Leno’s primary demographic? Do they even know what “Cheaters” is?

At 10:15, Leno threw to a taped bit with one of his new comedy team members, Dan Finnerty, who, along with his Dan Band, “entertained” people at a car wash with a bad song filled with obvious innuendo (hoses, suds…yawn).

Cut to commercial and at 10:23, Leno, sitting in one of two stiff-back, blue velour chairs, introduced Jerry Seinfeld (and held up an issue of Entertainment Weekly from two weeks ago).

A self-deprecating Seinfeld, spiffed up in a classic tux, teased Leno about being back on the air after his high-profile departure from late night.

“In the ‘90s, when we quit a show, we actually left,” Seinfeld said in his Seinfeldian whine.

Seinfeld continued to make some self-deprecating comments about being Leno’s first guest, and, after Leno mentioned that Oprah was their first choice but they couldn’t get her, just like that, her O-ness, a Seinfeld pal, was summoned on a video link-up; Seinfeld interviewed her and Leno pretended to try to cut in with questions.

Ha?

Their seven-minute segment – which, since those chairs are the only two set pieces, gave the impression of two guys chatting in the cigar room – was breezy and brief.

So far, the best part of the hour was getting another glimpse at the trailer for Michael Jackson’s “This Is It” movie.

At 10:36, Leno returned, solo, before pitching to a fake, doctored interview between himself and President Obama.

Well, Jay, those millions who found you funny before will be thrilled to see you haven’t strayed from your roots of doing the exact same silly, milquetoast comedy bits.

Coming in at 10:43 was an “unplanned” segment with Kanye West having his Hugh Grant moment (before Sunday’s incident at the MTV Video Music Awards, he was only supposed to perform with Jay-Z and Rihanna…because all three fit right into Leno’s target audience). Leno, in a moment of ridiculousness, THANKED WEST FOR HONORING HIS COMMITMENT AND SHOWING UP TO DO THE SHOW?!! Are you kidding me? That’s his JOB! What better platform to apologize than during what was surely the most-watched show of the night?

Leno, showing a rare instinct for interviewing, asked West what his late mother would have thought of his outburst, which silenced the rambling rapper for several awkward moments.

After the night’s musical performance, Leno asked the viewers at home to stay tuned for a promo to their local news and came back with his patented “Headlines” segment, wisely shuttled to the end of the show when some stragglers might tune in on their way to the news.

But, as has always been the case, Leno is always funniest when someone else is providing the material.