EDMONTON - There will be no "guessing who" anymore.

Going strong into their fifth decade of making music, the elder statesmen of Canadian rock 'n' roll have cleverly rebranded themselves as Bachman Cummings -- thus avoiding the unpleasant possibility of seeing the Guess Who without Burton Cummings or Randy Bachman, perhaps worse, BTO without Randy Bachman or Fred Turner.

It's terribly confusing.

Bachman and Cummings were always the real deal in the Guess Who, and they still are, looking and sounding just swell at a Rexall Place concert bowl show last night. The only sore point in the rockin' granddads' hit parade was when it was announced that Cummings would "do one from my new album now." That's classic rock code for "time to get another beer." Sorry, man. The new song simply wasn't strong enough to rate amongst the American Womans, No Sugar Tonights and These Eyeses it was plopped into. Nor was Bachman's turn in the spotlight for a jazzy nod to Lenny Breau.

That's less a slam against their new material as it is a compliment for the Bachman Cummings songwriting legacy. These guys cranked out one massive hit after another in at least three different projects, songs so catchy that their melodies alone can cause incontinent gushes of nostalgia. Just stand back when that happens. More than 4,200 practically cried with joy over these classic hits last night, rendered faithfully and competently by backing musicians who are unlikely to lay claim to the Bachman Cummings band name (former bandmate Jim Kale actually owns the "Guess Who" moniker).

The show opened with a slide show representing the span -- and the bad hair -- of their careers, before the familiar strains of Running Back to Saskatoon filled the arena (half arena, anyway) with prairie references. This sort of thing goes over big in Edmonton.

Men in their 60s evoking the '60s works out well. Early gems included You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet, Laughing and Clap for the Wolfman, which unfortunately had a Bird Dance feel with 4,200 fans clapping dutifully when instructed by the song. Between the hits, the pair deployed corny banter like the Smothers Brothers -- veering between cheap shots and earnest compliments about each other, interspersed with road stories and hit parade horn-blowing. Cummings noted with pride the Guess Who's rare "double-sided hit record" with Laughing on the A and Undun on the B-side. See, these guys used to make records, which had sides, and well, never mind.

The performances were spot on. Cummings has some annoying vocal affectations that get in the way of an otherwise strong voice -- singing for his own pleasure at the expense of the song -- but he sounded great most of the time.

Only in Undun did he avoid that one high bit on the record. His partner, meanwhile, uses his airy, five-note vocal range to full effect. In the contest of who is the better instrumentalist, you have to give the edge to Burton's flashy boogie woogie stylings on the piano. Remember that he toured "up close and alone," which really honed his chops.

But it's when Bachman and Cummings are together that they are really greater than the sum of their parts. Equal, at the very least. If only rock history could rewrite itself with these two in the same band the whole time, encompassing all the songs by the Guess Who, BTO and their solo projects, and a band name where you know exactly what you're going to get.

The opening band was a treat: Legendary Hammond organist Booker T. and his band that isn't the MGs (though it featured both a Fabulous Thunderbird and a Black Crowe). His playing is the very epitome of the word "tasty" in a musical context. Double Leslies spinning, gas pedal to the metal, drawbars fully drawn, Mr. T doesn't waste a single note -- his solos sounding like a sultry jazz singer one moment, an entire horn section the next. That his minimalist style can command such attention when his band rocked perhaps too hard around him is impressive.

Material included his signature hit, Green Onions, the most famous organ instrumental next to Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor; and a tune he co-wrote, Born Under a Bad Sign, the most delightfully depressing blues song ever made.

You don't get to see an artist like this every day. There's some bonus points for Bachman Cummings for picking such a cool warm-up act.