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Funny how the right song by the right artist at the right moment can lighten your mood.

Nothing about Saturday’s jaunt to Virginia Beach to catch Billy Joel at the amphitheater – his first to the Hampton area in more than 20 years and his inaugural Va. Beach stop – was fun.

First was the blinding monsoon that nailed us from the airport area to Williamsburg. This wasn’t just rain. It was turn-on-the-hazards-and-actually-drive-15-mph weather. So what should have taken 20 minutes to drive clocked in around 40.

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Then came the obligatory stop at Fatburger in Chesapeake, four miles from the amphitheater exit and a necessity because this is the only Fatburger in the state – and the closest until New Jersey.

Make that, WAS the only Fatburger in the state, and now I’m glad I go to Jersey so frequently.

The best burger chain in the nation closed its sole area location last Tuesday. Sign on the door. Nothing but a counter and some chairs inside the vacant shell of a restaurant. You want to talk mopey? That was me.

So on we traveled to the amphitheater, skidding to a halt at least three miles from the turn into the venue’s parking area. This was at 7:25 p.m. By 8, we were still a solid mile away, inching in traffic, nervously glancing at the clock, since Joel was slated to hit the stage at 8:10. 

We scampered into the venue about 8:12 p.m., and quickly realized that somebody obviously told Joel to hold off for a few minutes. But, even with all of the people still jammed up in traffic, the amphitheater was overflowing with hordes of boomers – many with their kids, many more with their beers.

You could tell from some accents – and the license plates in the parking lot – that a lot of these folks came south (and east) just to see Joel. Usually, I’m the one traveling to see him (as I’ll do next month for his special “Last Play at Shea” concert in New York), so it was cool to only have a 100-minute drive to endure.

But, cranky as I was from the hard drive, mourning my favorite burger joint and getting nauseated from the stop-and-go traffic for 45 minutes, as soon as Joel thumped onto the stage around 8:20 p.m. and attacked his piano for the sweeping “Prelude/The Angry Young Man,” all of that aggravation dissipated.

Joel is playing a couple of outdoor gigs – he’ll hit Hershey Park in Pennsylvania July 10 – to fine-tune the sound for the Shea shows (July 16 and 18). Though the Virginia Beach Amphitheater is a third the size of Shea’s 55,000-plus capacity, the sound resonated crisply and cleanly, even in the back rows of the amphitheater.

At only midway through the year, it’s still early to christen the best album of 2008.

But few contenders are even in the same homestretch as Coldplay’s “Viva La Vida or Death and All His Friends.”

From the French romantic painting by Eugene Delacroix that serves as the album cover (it’s a piece of work from 1830 titled “Liberty Leading The People”) to the majestic title track (its name taken from a Frida Kahlo painting) that is, no argument, the coolest, most soaring song of the year so far, Coldplay has crafted an intense, ambitious piece of work.

While 2005’s “X&Y” was brilliant in its own right – “Fix You” remains a sweeping embrace for the damaged, while hidden track “Til Kingdom Come” is the first indication that the knot of this band is melody, not overproduction – Coldplay’s musical growth here is acute.

By ushering in the taut 10-track set with an instrumental (another melodic study – “Life in Technicolor”), the band wisely keeps listeners eager for the next note, waiting to hear when the fullness of its sound and poetry of its lyrics will kick in.

It doesn’t happen on the second track, the brooding “Cemeteries of London” – and that is intentional, too.

With U2’s favorite producer Brian Eno guiding this project, Coldplay has learned the importance of restraint, of drawing a listener in with an unfolding of sound (i.e., U2’s “Where the Streets Have No Name”).

Chris Martin’s piano playing is as appealing as ever in its loveliness – the guy has always had an ear for a tantalizing melody – and the jangly backbone of “Lovers in Japan” is all his.

Martin is also willing to break his vocal habits. Rather than rely on his trademark falsetto, he drops several registers on “Yes” to the point of unrecognizability; the quirky song sounds like a throwaway cut from The Beatles’ “White Album,” with its flurry of violins interrupted by a few askew notes.

But even when Coldplay is experimenting with rhythms and unusual instrumentation, “Viva” boasts the rich textures of a movie score, all lush keyboards and whispering strings, evidenced perfectly on “Violet Hill.”

Most interesting is that none of these songs contain a standard anthemic refrain, yet, as the intoxicating title track proves, the verse-chorus-verse formula isn’t necessary when the other elements of the song (strings, piano, a marching band-style deep tom-tom – and yet no guitar) are so catchy.

Aside from the title cut, the most memorable offering is “Strawberry Swing,” a love song couched in soft syncopation, its dreamlike delivery creating a sonic pillow.

That mellowness and beauty are the hallmarks of the cohesive “Viva,” which finds Coldplay at the peak of its creativity.

I’ve always shoved “America’s Got Talent” into that pool of reality shows that includes things such as “Nashville Star” and “The Bachelor.”

Not as heinous as, say, “Celebrity Circus” or “ The Baby Borrowers,” but Shows I Would Watch Only If My Other Choices Were The NBA Finals Or Larry King.

So last night, given the choices, I tuned into part of the season three premiere of NBC’s “Talent.”

I will admit that my embarrassing obsession with “Celebrity Apprentice” this spring turned me into a Piers Morgan fan. I knew he was the Simon Cowell of the “America’s Got Talent” (handy, as the two are friends and Cowell created the show). But his ruthless pursuit of that bottom-feeder known as Omarosa combined with nasty-tinged shrewdness and a British accent that makes everything sound cooler confirmed my membership in the Piers fan club.

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Granted, I’ve always loved Sharon Osborne and find David Hasselhoff (hereby referred to as “The Hoff”) a continually watchable buffoon, but my interest in jugglers and square dancers hovers around the level of cleaning the litter box.

So imagine my surprise when I flipped over from yes, the NBA Finals (hooray, Boston!), caught the last half of 4-year-old Kaitlyn Maher’s incredibly sweet (if a little, uh, pitchy) take on “Somewhere Out There” and found myself teary-eyed while watching the mini-Celine stare big-eyed as the judges poured on the plaudits (http://www.nbc.com/Americas_Got_Talent/video/index.shtml#mea=266081).

I don’t even like kids – but this one is cute to the point that I actually want to watch the show now and see if her tiny dream gets shattered when that male Britney Spears impersonator or that fabulous opera singer Neal Boyd beats her to the finals.

Of course you expected Sharon, with her maternal instincts, to ratchet her voice to that level she uses to talk to her Pomeranians when praising Kaitlyn. And The Hoff, well, he’s going to drag out the drama to keep the camera on him as long as possible, so his long-winded congratulations to the kid were expected.

But when Piers, my brother in jaded-ness, looked misty when telling the little girl that she was easily the best 4-year-old contestant the show has ever had (she’s also the youngest ever), I felt that same tug at my heart that occurs whenever Simon Cowell rolls his eyes and tells an “American Idol” contestant “you have just invented a new form of torture.”

Now, I am hooked.

This 15th annual American Music Festival at Virginia Beach pulls in Aug. 29-31 with its usual array of nostalgic pop acts, local artists and beach music. 

Most performances are free, but the headliners on the 5th Street Main Stage require a ticket.

They are:

Aug. 29, 6:30 p.m.: Morris Day & The Time, Bell Biv Devoe and En Vogue. Tickets are $15 advance and $20 day of show.

Aug. 30, 8 p.m.: Billy Idol with a special guest TBA. Tickets are $20 advance and $25 day of show.

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Aug. 31, 6:30 p.m.: The B-52s and The Motels featuring Martha Davis. Tickets are $20 advance and $25 day of show.

Fans can also purchase a Passport Pin for $30, which provides admission to all three shows.

Other acts performing free shows include Starship with Mickey Thomas, Phil Stacey, BoDeans, Los Lobos, Eddie Money and Warrant.

For a complete lineup visit http://www.beachstreetus.com. 

Tickets can be purchased through Ticketmaster outlets, at http://www.ticketmaster.com or by calling (804) 262-8100.

So after a paltry 10 weeks or so writing this blog with my friend and co-worker Melissa Ruggieri ... I’m outta here. I enjoyed it while it lasted!

It’s my last day at the Richmond Times-Dispatch; on June 30, I report to Virginia Commonwealth University as director of public relations and communications for the School of Pharmacy. It’s a brand new job and a great opportunity. And no, it doesn’t involve free drugs. (Yeah, people keep asking.)

Luckily for everyone, Melissa will still be around to keep the Pop! Culture blog up and running. I look forward to reading it from “the outside.“ Keep those cards and comments comin’! And tell all your friends ...

Stylelist.com has published a list of the Top 15 hottest celebrity dads. What do you think, girls? Hot or not? One thing’s for sure, they’re all celeb dads.

Who’s your daddy?

Here’s the list, from rockers to actors to ... what’s that, a presidential candidate? Why, so it is.

#15 - Mark Consuelos

#14 - Tobey Maguire
#13 - Tom Cruise
#12 - Gavin Rossdale
#11 - Barack Obama

#10 - Patrick Dempsey
#9 -  Seal
#8 -  Joel Madden
#7 -  Ben Affleck
#6 -  Ryan Phillipe
#5 -  Matt Damon
#4 -  Will Smith
#3 -  Johnny Depp
#2 -  David Beckham
#1 -  Brad Pitt

Fran Martin, Smithfield the painting pig’s “mom,“ had this to say about their “America’s Got Talent” experience in New York. Kind of whets your appetite, eh? For the TV show, I mean. Stay tuned!

Fran is a colorful writer, to say the least:

“Can’t tell you the results, but want to let you know we are back, and not going anywhere, anytime soon. 

“Crashed and burned. Pulled pork, crispy bacon.  Took a long time to get started, finally painted, then wouldn’t stop. Finally stopped and then would not get off the stage!  What a mess.  Pig-headed. He laid down on the stage and refused to get up and leave. 

“They wanted TV, well by golly, leave up to me and Smithfield to give them just what they wanted.  But I would do it all over again.  I had so much fun.  It was an experience.“

If so, get a load of my favorite summer show, “So You Think You Can Dance,“ on Fox.

How cool was it, in the audition shows, that Virginia’s own Travis Wall was the choreographer leading all the kids who were offered a second chance to make it to Vegas? If you remember, Travis is from Virginia Beach, and he was runner-up to Benji Schwimmer on the show’s second season.

Travis has some moves—and his new (well, new to TV viewers) faux-hawk is hilarious—but what was up with that weird stunt he pulled at the end of auditions? Coming out in drag to do his own pretend audition? I would much rather have seen him dance as himself—fingers crossed they’ll bring him back this season as a guest choreographer or guest performer. Go, Travis! Go, Travis!

First couple of shows with Top 20 contestants have been excellent. Looking forward to watching the tape of last night’s first elimination show when I get home.

Is it me, or are Nigel Lythgoe’s teeth whiter than ever and his hair even blonder?

As intriguing as the combination of Robert Plant and Alison Krauss is on record, it could be successfully argued that “Raising Sand,” their collaboration released last fall, is a bit of a somber, muted affair.

But live, the musical odd couple is mesmerizing.

Their tour – which die-hard rockers refer to as the Thing Preventing a Proper Led Zeppelin Reunion – stops at Merriweather Post Pavilion in Columbia, Md., on Friday. Tickets are still available (http://www.ticketmaster.com/event/150040549A117381?artistid=735867&majorcatid=10001&minorcatid=1) and let’s just say that the show is well worth the half tank of gas needed for the drive north.

On Sunday at the Borgata in Atlantic City, N.J., the Led Zeppelin legend – tousled mane and grizzly beard giving him the look of the Cowardly Lion rather than a yowling rock god – and the subdued bluegrass marvel turned out incredibly soulful renditions of songs from “Raising Sand,” as well as terrific re-arrangements of tunes from their respective canons.

Naturally, the nearly sold-out crowd of about 2,300 edged to the tips of their seats, ready to stand up and cheer for anything resembling a Led Zep song.

It took even the most faithful listeners a few seconds to realize that the murky banjo being plucked wasn’t one of Plant and Krauss’ Americana specialties, but “Black Dog,” slowed to a delicious, sultry stomp.

Very quickly into the two-hour show, Krauss proved that her porcelain voice was by no means fragile – Plant often backed off his own mic so she could scale the notes he once did about 40 years ago – but she was always, obviously, in steady control of her pipes.

The affection these two have for each other was also frequently displayed, but in more of a father-daughter way (Plant turns 60 in August, while Krauss will be 37 in a few weeks) than anything creepy or inappropriate.

Plant called her one of the most “spectacular” voices he’s ever shared a stage with, which Krauss responded to by unleashing her gorgeous tenor on “Down to the River to Pray.” It was a bit surreal to see Plant singing acapella backup vocals on a gospel song, but, as with everything these two do, weirdly, it worked.

Plant even unearthed his underappreciated solo gem “In the Mood,” his lower register blending perfectly with Krauss’ hushed tones, before turning out his grittiest rock performance on Townes Van Zandt’s “Nothin.”

The band assembled to back this novelty is among the best live musicians currently playing. Drummer Jay Bellerose (also heard on the new Aimee Mann record) is a marvel to watch and listen to, with the purposely muffled sound coming from his snare drum and his busy percussion tidbits giving these songs a rich texture.

And of course, bow to T Bone Burnett, the man responsible for making this marriage happen. He’s a quietly authoritative band leader and commanding guitarist, though acclaim must also be directed toward lead guitarist Buddy Miller, who consistently tore out searing licks all night, without ever overstepping his place.

The Zep Heads in Sunday’s crowd were sated by the slow-burning “Battle of Evermore,” with Krauss handling Sandy Denny’s vocal part with ease and apparent delight, and it was always a kick to watch Plant restrain his desire to prance across the stage with mic stand in hand.

If you’re a Zeppelin purist who cringes at the idea of this toned-down roots revival, don’t dismiss what you haven’t seen live. It’s different, absolutely. But beautifully so.

Smithfield, Richmond’s most famous painting pig—make that Richmond’s ONLY painting pig—is back on the celebrity circuit. He and his human, Fran Martin of Chesterfield, made the trek to New York recently to check out the “America’s Got Talent” auditions.

It should come as no surprise that Smithfield made the grade. “AGT” is clearly an equal opportunity show, given the, er, inhuman nature of some of its previous contestants. (Leonid the Magnificent, anyone? Surely you haven’t forgotten the scary, 7-foot “angel boy.“)

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At any rate, check out the third-season premiere on NBC Tuesday, a two-hour special that begins at 9 p.m. You’ve seen the commercials, right? Smithfield is one of the featured performers in a quick montage of what’s-to-come.

The-powers-that-be-at-NBC told Martin that Smithfield might be on Tuesday night. But it’s more likely the little porker will make his “AGT” debut the following week, June 24.

So set the TiVo and plan to root (ha! pig humor!) for the local talent.