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CALGARY -- It could be the jet-black, Rat-Pack-inspired suit and tie.
Or possibly his big and bewitching blue eyes -- perhaps they're closer to hazel-green, it was hard to tell at a million miles away in the Pengrowth Saddledome -- whatever it is that makes Michael (Babyface) Buble so darn likeable is hard to pinpoint.
He's a combination of charming, albeit sometimes cutesy-cornball, elements.
Just when you think he's going to get swallowed up into his own cheesy antics and random dance moves, he manages to pull it together, give the audience a sexy stare and transform into slickly staged elegance.
The American-style (Canadian-born) jazz crooner is the type of lounge-dwelling, scotch-and-cigarette infused singer that is best experienced in an intimate club.
However, last night at the 'Dome, Buble had no trouble filling the arena with his subtle and smooth vocals.
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Backed by a full band, including horn section, guitars, piano, bass -- the list goes on -- he launched the evening with I'm Your Man and Me and Mrs. Jones (Originally made famous by Billy Paul and later covered by everyone from Curtis Mayfield to Al Green).
It seems as though Buble's sultry love songs have made him the musical equivalent to Brad Pitt in the sex-appeal department, the primarily female audience gazed on appreciatively as he moved through a flood of classic love songs.
Born in Burnaby B.C. the 32-year-old cut his teeth at the BaBaLu cocktail lounge in Vancouver.
After being asked to play at Caroline Mulroney's wedding, he was signed by David Foster in 2000 -- Foster happened to be in attendance at the Mulroney wedding when he first heard Buble sing.
Last night's sold-out show was upbeat, fun and full of good humour -- Buble incorporates plenty of in-between banter into his act. However, although the thousands of adoring fans at last night's concert will be aghast at what I'm about to write, I could not in good conscience say that Buble is near as compelling or entrancing as his predecessors -- think Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Tony Bennett.
While the Bennett and the Rat Pack exuded an off-the-cuff, down-and-dirty, smoky night-club purity, Buble seems to be processed and a milksop in contrast.
I blame David Foster, who despite turning every artist he touches into a zillion-dollar, music-making machine, also seems to effectively drain the zingaling straight out of them.
While Sinatra was hanging with the Mob and drinking Jack Daniels, Buble comes across as the kind of guy who could be seen lounging at Starbucks bright and early on Sunday morning, while sipping Frappacinos (he is the singer behind one of the mega coffee chain's latest commercials).
Even by comparison to contemporary artists such as Harry Connick Jr., Buble comes up less original, and less dynamic.
But, who knows -- maybe Buble could drink them all under the table.
The point is, whether or not he's sold millions of records, he's a cup of warm milk before bed in comparison to some of the bourbon and gin nightcaps the jazz greats offer up.
While he may not be this reviewer's scotch on the rocks, he did put on a solid show that had the crowd feeling they got their money's worth.
The Juno award winner and Grammy nominee is currently touring through Canada, before heading to the U.S. and on to Australia.
Opening act, Naturally 7, put on an equally entertaining set of a cappella songs.