MUSIC REVIEW : Piano Man Sings for S.D. : Concert: Billy Joel may be older, heavier and less inspired on stage, but, to his fans, it’s still rock ‘n’ roll.

If five years of domestic bliss with super-model wife Christie Brinkley and daughter Alexa haven’t blunted Billy Joel’s creativity, they certainly have slowed its pace and given it a different perspective. On his two post-nuptial albums--1986’s “The Bridge” and last year’s “Storm Front”--one detected a sense of daddy bringing home the bacon, of his covering enough stylistic bases and accommodating enough edicts--about currency, public taste and his fans’ expectations--to keep the family shop open for business. At 39, Joel exemplifies the pop star as careerist.

On Wednesday night, just under 13,000 fans jammed the San Diego Sports Arena to examine Joel’s updated portfolio. It was the only Southern California stop on the current leg of the “Storm Front Tour,” a blessing-the-troops campaign that began last December in Worcester, Mass., sold out five shows at the Los Angeles Sports Arena in April, and just returned from a swing through Europe. It might have bypassed San Diego altogether if not for the aggressive efforts of Avalon Attractions to promote the show locally.

What fans got Wednesday was a typically generous Joel performance, a two-hour program spanning 16 years of hits. They also were privy to personal but unrevealing disclosures from a schmoozer who revels in the adulation of long-faithful followers.

And they saw a man too long of tooth, too thick of middle, and perhaps too road-weary to rock convincingly, a man whose frequent mugging indicated that his physically taxing stage show is now a mandate more of obligation than of exuberance.

The concert opened, as so many do these days, with prepackaged effects. Joel and his band (two horns, drums, bass, two guitars, keyboards) emerged from rumbling peals of thunder and flashes of “lightning” to play “Storm Front”--a surprising opener only in that the song’s ambulatory tempo has a settling, rather than a rousing effect. Nonetheless, people roared their approval and sustained it through the follow-up, “Allentown.”

For this 1982 paean to steelworkers, Joel moved from his front-and-center grand piano to an electronic keyboard mounted high on the back riser, where he was able to play to the crowd that was seated behind the stage. Unfortunately, the crew’s wan rendition of one of Joel’s better songs didn’t warrant the ovation it received. Happily, “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” did. Returning to the grand piano, Joel led the troops through a lively version of the 1977 mini-drama that is a sort of musical “New York Stories.” He then addressed the assemblage for the first time.

“So this is the new, . . . improved arena, huh?” he asked, looking around. “Yeah, well, you should’ve seen the dressing rooms.”

And he should’ve heard the sound. For most of the concert, the mix was so muddy that only the kick drum and Joel’s vocals could be heard clearly.

Acoustical and/or production problems didn’t adversely affect spare arrangements such as the bluesy ballad “Baby Grand” and the quasi-Drifters groove “An Innocent Man.” But they virtually sabotaged the ersatz-Four-Seasons hit, “Uptown Girl” (Joel’s 1983 infatuation-letter to his then-fiancee, Brinkley). And bad sound made hodgepodges of otherwise charged readings of both the 1982 hit “Pressure” and “The Downeaster ‘Alexa’,” the haunting, martial-rhythmed ode from “Storm Front” about the plight of commercial fishermen (on which, for this occasion, Joel played a Kelly green accordion).

Apparently, the spontaneity and fervor that once reigned in Joel’s live shows have been replaced with a splashy, light-and-smoke attack that was annoying as often as it was effective.

Joel has also delegated some of the showmanship responsibilities to his band. With the exceptions of hyperactive drummer Liberty DeVitto and Crystal Taliaferro--whose lusty singing and deft percussion and saxophone work were a major contribution--the musicians were only competent in that regard. Worse, the watch-me antics of the second sax player were frequently ill-timed and generally presumptuous and distracting.

None of the show’s drawbacks, however, seemed of concern to the faithful, who cheered every gesture, nuance, intro and utterance. Whether seated at the grand (“My Life,” “Big Shot”); standing at either of two elevated keyboards; grappling, Rod-Stewart-like, with a microphone (“It’s Still Rock and Roll to Me,” “You May Be Right”); or playing electric guitar (“We Didn’t Start the Fire,” “A Matter of Trust”), Joel was able to coax clamorous approbation from a largely female throng in which nearly every age group was represented. At one point, however, Joel himself seemed to acknowledge that he was operating at something less than full capacity.

“Right now it’s midnight in New York,” he said. “It’s not that I’m tired, it’s just that right now I’m usually in bed with Christie Brinkley.”

For all the lavish production values and horsing-around, the most rewarding moment of the evening was the first tune of the second encore. Alone at the grand and under a single spotlight, Joel drew every ounce of emotion from the “Storm Front” album’s hymn-like ballad of romantic dread, “And So It Goes.” If only the preceding two hours had been as good.