EDMONTON - Whenever there was a scene on The Chris Isaak Show where the band was playing, there was almost always a group of burly men at the front going crazy for the music.

Hmm, bikers digging Chris Isaak. That's a big suspension of disbelief. He always seemed more of a mellow crooner for the ladies to me. Sure, he's from San Francisco, where some burly men aren't always what they seem, but this was still a strange incongruity to an otherwise excellent television program.

How wrong I was. TV is not the live stage. In the flesh and still almost a cartoon character of California cool, the 53-year-old self-described "sparkling hillbilly" delivered a full-blown rock 'n' roll show for 2,100 fans at the Jubilee Auditorium last night. Some were burly men going crazy for the music. Women, too. He riffed on Elvis, Roy Orbison and himself, veered from unrequited love songs to full-blown two-steppin' stompers, which also happened to be about getting rejected in one form or another.

Only one of the songs performed last night had a happy side, was about "requited" love, and it turned out to be a little ragtime number urging women to remember a line they can use on their husbands: "What am I to you?"

Guys have been known to jump out of a moving car upon hearing that, Isaak said.

He's a cut-up.

Between the band's immaculate readings of cosmic country tunes, Isaak staged a hilarious standup act -- often making members of his own band the butt of his jokes. Yes, the same guys from the show were there, causing a bit of pop cultural/reality dissonance when you realized these sidemen were as famous as the star: guitarist Hershel Yatovitz, bassist Rowland Salley and the formidable drummer Kenney Dale Johnson.

A real actor, Jed Rees, was hired to play Isaak's keyboard player. He wasn't there, of course, but real keyboard player Scott Punkett was, introduced as "Scott Plinkiplunkett" and publically pitied by Isaak for not really fitting in with the rest of the guys in the band.

Isaak said sadly, "The only affection he will ever know is from you people, in the dark."

Of the guitarist, he told the audience, "Maybe you come here tonight from the farm, and you're a little bit afraid ... I want you to think of Hershel tonight as your heifer."

This was shortly before Isaak sprinted up to the first balcony to sing a campy version of Love Me Tender.

Isaak was ironic about everything -- his look, his voice, his general Elvisness, his ridiculous suit, his band members' even more ridiculous suits -- and while admitting that you're silly doesn't make you any less silly, it's amusing for onlookers.

However, when it came time to start playing, Chris Isaak was dead serious. His voice has only improved with age. He has this trademark yodel, a hitch in his voice when he switches to falsetto, which is one of the best in the business.

Both his range and his stamina were impressive last night.

The musicians were the real deal, too, playing the living hell out of Isaak's short and sweet tunes.

It didn't seem like a rock show at first, his mellowest fare like Wicked Game knocked off early, and a few disconcerting lulls from generic Bakersfield filler.

But this didn't last. Chris was soon duck-walking across the stage, his band deftly pounding out one old-time rocker or passionate torch ballad after another. They even rocked while seated on stools.

What a truly strange and excellent band this is.

I sure hope they get to do a few more seasons on television. Make it a reality show this time.