Michael Buble is good, but he's no Frank Sinatra. He can't hold his liquor.

He admits, "I can't party. I can party for five minutes. I've never been a big drinker. But hey, I work too much. I don't get a chance to party."

This lack of boozing stamina is "pretty much" the reason that the singer lost his cookies at Leonardo DiCaprio's house earlier this year. They were having cocktails and tacos when Buble suddenly felt ill and vomited into the bushes - not in the pool, as some reported. Could've been the tacos.

In something like two years of seeing this Frank-in-waiting travel in the stratosphere of superstardom and the intense media scrutiny therein, this is the only "scandal" we can come up with. Now if he had drunk all the other guests under the table, beat up Leo, had sex with several supermodels and maybe ended up in a ditch on Hollywood Boulevard only to put on a great show at the Copa that night, well, then we'd have a story. Ain't going to happen, Charley.

Performing a sold-out show at the Winspear Centre tomorrow night, the jazz crooner describes himself as "very Canadian," amending that to "very Vancouver." By that he means he's one laid-back jazz singer.

"I never was really a party guy," he says. "I'm not that cool. I don't go punching people out. I don't want to come off as cocky or arrogant."

Still, there's an element of rakish charm about this 29-year-old smooth singer of smooth standards. He gets in just enough trouble to appeal to women who like "bad boys," not quite enough to offend their moms.

Mostly, it's when he speaks his mind.

He says, "I have a publicist here in Bruce Allen's office. She said, 'We need to talk. Maybe we should get you some media training.' I said, no, I'm not going to do that. Even my mother will call me and say, 'Can't you just be nice?' I am nice, Ma. What's the worst thing that people have said about me? I've smoked pot. I've slept with some people. I didn't hurt anyone. I didn't rape anyone. I didn't take any hard drugs. I'm just being a normal person."

Yes, he's a normal person who just happens to be making lots of money singing the same sort of material Sinatra did. Comparisons are inevitable - as are crooning clones. One can't help but notice how many there are.

Buble exclaims, "Isn't it amazing? Like little sunflowers popping up out of the dirt."

He goes on to say that he was not first in line to buy Rod Stewart's latest standards album or most others like it. The problem with such croono-saturation is that the otherwise worthy genre will seem like a fad - "the fad's lasted 90 years," Buble is fond of saying, and does again in this interview. This can have alarming, even dangerous consequences. There's even an American Idol contestant releasing an album of jazz standards. Is that scary enough for you?

"Leave it alone!" Buble says. "Jesus Christ! I've been doing this the whole time - and failing miserably, by the way - and I get some success and the whole world is putting out a standards record. Everyone and their brother. When is yours coming out?"

Tomorrow, but we digress.

Buble was in fact failing as a jazz crooner, but not miserably. During his hardscrabble upbringing, he was happy singing the songs his beloved grandfather introduced him to. Buble once turned down an offer to make a pop album. He preferred singing the standards. He took any gig he could get, from strip bars to corporate functions. Nowheresville, as Frank might say.

The Cinderella story goes like this: Brian Mulroney's speechwriter hears Buble sing at a dull corporate gig. The singer then performs at Caroline Mulroney's wedding, where David Foster is a guest. These two laid-back Vancouverites hit it off. Buble's first Foster-produced album established the kid as a bona fide star; his second, It's Time, cemented it. It contains just one original tune, the ballad Home, that happened to become a big hit.

Buble says he's conscious of the fine line between trying to be original and staying true to proven classics, between evoking a bygone era with respect and making a big joke out of it. It's easy to take the easy path, the Paul Anka path. It's easy to become a novelty.

"I never wanted my stuff to be seen as a novelty," Buble says. "There's such a fine line. There are going to be people who think it is novelty, but I was really pleased when this record was finished. I really felt this was my record.

"The first one I had no control. It was David Foster saying to me, in a loving way, 'Kid, my balls are on the line and we got one chance to introduce you to the world and I'm going to do it the safest way possible,' which I think is fair, in his position.

"When I came to do the second record and he said, 'Let's do the same thing,' I said, no possibility, man. I need to make this record mine. And he said, 'Let's see what you got, you little f---er.' "

In a loving way, of course.

As for living up to the Frankian legacy of hard drinking, Buble points out, "I've talked to so many people who knew him well. They say he wasn't drinking all the time. A lot of times, he was faking it. It was an act."

Thanks for blowing the fantasy, Buble. Now get outta here, ya mook.