Comeback kids ... The Backstreet Boys, from left, AJ, Howie, Nick, Brian and Kevin, worked a Saddledome crowd of 14,000 into a frenzy last night. -- JACK CUSANO, Calgary Sun

CALGARY -- Call it laziness. Or explain it away as insanity brought on by having to listen to Phil Collins between the first two opening acts and Van Halen before the headliners took to the stage (suck on that, Halen fans -- your band was a warm up act for the Backstreet Boys).

But we can start this review of last night's show in pretty much the same manner as yesterday's review of Pearl Jam's Sunday night concert. To whit, the question of does anyone still care about the boy band on this, their comeback tour, was answered last night by an enthusiastic, sell out crowd of 14,000 pre-teen, teen and 20-something ladies.

The question of why -- well, I'm still waiting for a good answer to that one.

The boys -- Howie, Brian, Nick, Kevin and, I think, Corky -- have been away for a handful of years, time spent driving drunk, (allegedly), slapping around Paris Hilton, (allegedly) and generally doing all the things you'd expect has-been boy bands to do.

They returned without missing much of a beat, selling out their tour and selling a boat-load of their new CD, Never Gone.

Of course, nostalgia has something to do with it as the crowd of ladies-of-age would indicate. And there is the hotness of the members, although the fact Howie went unrecognized until he said his name as he introduced the opening act makes you wonder about the sincerity of that pin-up infatuation.

Maybe it's the dance moves? Well, they still look as if Mr. Bean was choreographing Janet Jackson. Which means the answer must be in the songs themselves and how the Backstreet Boys kick it live.

Well, those are probably the biggest reasons. The new material -- Never Gone tracks such as Climbing the Walls and I Still ... -- and the old material -- hits such as More Than That, Shape of My Heart, and I Want It That Way -- it all still sounds as if it was written after surveying a bunch of teenage babysitters.

And the performances? Well, when they didn't appear as if they were lip syncing, the hunks sang as if it was over a bistro table, meant only for aforementioned babysitters in an attempt to get their hard-earned babysitting money.

So, in answer to the question why care, there are a number of reasons. I just wish there was a good one.

First up in the duo of opening acts was a Digital Audio Tape machine. It played a selection of redundant dance-pop accompanied by a young girl with a non-descript voice named Kaci Brown.

What she was singing -- who knows? But she made me want to go to the mall and buy shoes. And maybe an Orange Julius.

Even when the human girl took control of the set with, as she said, one voice (hers), one instrument (a guitar) and one emotion (like, y'know, being really upset about, like, a boy and stuff?), it made you miss that really awesome DAT. And also, the Gap.

"We're The Click Five and we've come to rock you," was how the evening's second opening act kicked off their set.

Liars.

Many things were done to me by the quintet of well-dressed young men -- I was annoyed, saddened and in a way which I'm hoping therapy will one day help me understand, oddly aroused -- but not once was I rocked.

In fact, performing limp new wave power pop with all the energy and believability of junior high air band contest winners, The Click Five couldn't rock were they given a transfusion straight from Keith Richards' liver.

I hate liars.