When you look at Kid Rock, plenty of descriptive words come to mind.

"Brilliant" usually isn't one of them.

But, underneath the greasy hair, the sleazy cowboy-pimp persona and those grungy tank tops that you just know reek of cigarettes and Budweiser, lurks one smart dude.

What has he done to warrant such commendation of his mental prowess?

Nothing except think like an old-fashioned businessman.

If you don't know, Rock's "All Summer Long" is the de facto smash of the season.

The gliding nostalgic romp -- that wisely mashes the keyboards of "Werewolves of London" and the defining guitar riff of "Sweet Home Alabama" -- has spent 14 weeks on Billboard's country chart and 11 on the pop 100 airplay (it moves up to No. 8 this week).

Last week, mainstream Top 40 stations nationwide spun it more than 7,000 times and it's even been nudged into the top three among Hot AC stations.

Since "All Summer Long" has swelled, the album it came from, "Rock N Roll Jesus," has been resurrected. The disc bowed in October, debuted at No. 1 with 170,000 copies sold, soon tumbled down the charts and, as of Tuesday, had climbed back to No. 2 and been certified with sales of 2 million.

So how, in this era of disintegrating record sales, is Kid Rock going double-platinum?

By making you buy the album if you want the song.

Rock is one of the few remaining holdouts from digital retailers (AC/DC and the Beatles can also take a bow), so if you want a legal version of the song, time to head to your friendly neighborhood retailer, just like in the good old days when things like liner notes and concept albums were also part of the artistic process.

Another amusing facet to this so-simple-it's-genius occurrence is that right now on iTunes, a version of "All Summer Long" by Hit Masters, a faceless crew that churns out inferior versions of hits both in original and karaoke form, is number nine on the digital castle's list of its 10 most popular downloads.

If you really want to laugh, check out some of the 1,300-plus comments left by customers.

Some chastise Rock for not making his single available -- because it's now apparently mandatory for artists to kowtow to the fleeting attention span of fans. Others yell at iTunes with lots of exclamation points because of its audacity to even make the Hit Masters version available -- apparently, it's iTunes' fault that they spent 99 cents on a download clearly labeled HIT MASTERS. Somehow, I don't think Kid Rock is the only one laughing all the way to the bank.

. . .

I was busy feeding a $20 bill into a video poker machine last Tuesday night in Las Vegas when my husband called from our hotel room to break the news about LeRoi Moore.

I had just returned from seeing Cher at Caesars Palace and was still giddy from her show as he read aloud the AP wire story that was now posted on a thousand Web sites.

It was one of those surreal, that-can't-be-true moments, just like every time you hear the news of a musician, a performer, an artist, who is unexpectedly gone years before it's supposed to happen.

I didn't know Moore -- in fact, he was the only member of the Dave Matthews Band I never interviewed -- but I knew how his quiet, cool presence complemented the enthusiastic showboating of Boyd Tinsley and Matthews' see-saw of goofiness and intensity whenever DMB was on stage.

Any casual fan of the band's music could easily pinpoint memorable Moore moments in its music -- the staccato bleating that introduces "Ants Marching," the baritone sax burping in the Moorebackground of "So Much to Say," the subtle brass melodies underlining "Crash Into Me."

On what song ISN'T he a tremendous factor?

A couple of months ago, when DMB pulled into Nissan Pavilion, I decided somewhat last minute to go. It was a disgusting, humid night and the traffic leading into the venue was abominable -- but the band sounded as tight as I've ever heard them, and, as usual with Virginia shows, seemed to have some extra zip on their songs.

For whatever strange reasons that things happen, as I'm writing this, a lone reporter's notebook is sitting here on my desk at home -- one of a dozen I've used since that concert. In between notes about Billy Joel and Rick Springfield shows are my observations from that June 28 DMB concert -- the last one Moore would play.

In flipping through, looking for comments I might have scribbled about Moore, there are references to Carter Beauford's "impeccable grooves" and something about a "funky fiddle riff" from Tinsley.

Then there is a paragraph about the band's fantastic cover of Peter Gabriel's "Sledgehammer."

As it turns out, I did, in fact, write something about Moore.

All it says is: "LeRoi -- outstanding."

(Those wishing to honor Moore's memory can make a donation to the Charlottesville Area Community Foundation. Details are available at www.dmband.com).