Country came to town Thursday night. No surprise. For years, Richmond has welcomed country titans like Ernest Tubb, Loretta Lynn and Hank Snow, but there's always room for more.

This time around, superstars Alan Jackson and Martina McBride graced Richmond's Coliseum with a few hours and hit songs galore. Before a near-capacity crowd of 10,000 or so, two of this generation's most-vital country singers built upon that which made them stars.

First up, Martina McBride. At half past 7, and with her seven-person band in tow, including former Richmonder Glen Snow on bass guitar, the vaulting-voiced McBride ascended center stage via a riser.

Sparkling in all black, the svelte and soaring singer kicked into "Wild Angels" with verve and panache. What a ride. She whirled through an hourlong, 15-song set full of hits.

Pop goes McBride's country.

From 1993's "My Baby Loves Me" to last year's rousing, feel-good grabber "She's a Butterfly," McBride crackled through and through with unmistakable charm, purpose and fringes of pop about her country.

McBride is no Loretta Lynn, but like Lynn she sure seems to know who matters most to country singers: the fans.

"You all are a happy bunch tonight," McBride said between songs. "I've been coughing all week long, but nothing was gonna keep me from here tonight."

McBride's pipes carried on in typically top form. Take her new tune "How Far." She reared back and belted it with passion and guts with a voice as strong as iron. No coughs around. Likewise on "God's Will." One of three songs from an acoustic set, the downsized song did nothing to waylay McBride's unbridled talent.

It was almost 9 when her show ended, and fans bided their time by refueling on beer, popcorn, soda and hot dogs. The teeming crowd buzzed like large bees in a heck of a hive.

Some were buzzing a bit more than others.

At a quarter past 9, lights dimmed and the stage curtains parted. There stood Alan Jackson, country king before an adoring court. White hat, blond hair, blue jeans and a big ol' grin. Yep, blue-collar country royalty if ever there was any.

Backed by his knock-'em-dead nine-man band, the Strayhorns, Jackson drifted right down country lane with "Gone Country." That theme grabbed and took hold for the bulk of Jackson's 90-minute or so set of modern-day standards.

Jackson did not swing from ropes or breathe fire. Neither fireworks nor frills marked his show. Why, but for a stroll along the stage, he barely moved at all. But when he moved a leg, winked or smiled, he made the women hoot and holler.

No histrionic hooey for Newnan, Ga.'s, famous son.

Instead, fiddle'n' steel strong country from the pens of George Jones and Roger Miller ("Tall Tall Trees"), Hank Williams Jr. ("Blues Man") and Nat Stuckey ("Pop a Top") numbered among the litany of loo-loos in Jackson's show.

One highlight among many was his rendering of "Little Man." One of the saddest and most relevant country songs in years, it documents the fallout of the Wal-Mart mania in which we live. Surely the song's lyrics have passed through Jackson's lips countless times, but he sang it with the feeling of a newborn song.

So go the ways of country singers.

Let's see, ballads and beer can-popping tunes. Boots, blue jeans and country blues. Steel guitars, fiddles and a few yee-haws! thrown in for good measure.

If that ain't country, well friends, you can fill in the blank.