Creed, at the FleetCenter, Boston, last night.

Is it possible for a band to become massively popular without being any good? You'd have to wonder just a little after witnessing Creed's sold-out show last night.

Not that the Florida quartet can't play; they've got boring technical competence to spare. It's just that you'd have to look hard to find any trace of an original idea; just one riff, lick or lyric that you haven't heard before. That might be fine if they were out for cheap thrills, but the show was meant to be an inspirational spectacle in the vein of U2's ``Elevation'' tour. The difference is that U2 had creative staging and great songs; Creed had fireworks and singalongs.

The onstage sound, particularly on the vocals, was studio-perfect enough to raise suspicions that it wasn't 100 percent live. In any case, the musical elements were strictly borrowed: Singer Scott Stapp had all of Eddie Vedder's mannerisms down pat; while guitarist Mark Tremonti lifted equal parts from The Edge and Jimmy Page. The opening ``Bullets'' paid lip service to Metallica, but from there ponderous ballads took over: ``Who's Got My Back'' had a ponderous intro that was longer than the song itself. The lyrical message boiled down to a set of obvious statements: Believing in yourself is good; religious violence is bad; existential pain is a real drag.

Stapp took his fake-humble act to extremes, lowering his face in a Christ-like pose after nearly every song. And when a song got especially whiny, he'd explain that he was speaking for the audience: Before the latest album's title track ``Weathered,'' Stapp explained that we all feel world-beaten sometimes - particularly the members of Creed after their last big tour. We'll assume he was trying to sound like a man of the people instead of a spoiled rock star.

Opening band Tantric (featuring members of the best-forgotten Days of the New) sounded like a Creed ripoff, placing them a safe distance from originality. Singer Hugo Ferreira insisted that the audience stand up and sing along, exactly five minutes after he'd instructed them not to let anyone tell them what to do