OTTAWA - John Hiatt and Lyle Lovett walked onto the stage at the National Arts Centre last night as if they were a couple concert-goers looking for their seat.

But with only two chairs on that huge Southam Hall stage, the two guitar slingers took their places, Hiatt stage left and Lovett stage right and, without a word, Hiatt began to sing Real Fine Love with that thick Indiana drawl while Lovett sat and watched smiling.

It wasn't a very rock and roll moment. There was going to be no fireworks tonight. But you could positively feel the electricity in the air and the two settled into this slow dance as they alternately listened to each other play, and then trading stories between songs.

"This is my friend Lyle Lovett," Hiatt said quietly while taking applause.

"Did you drive a pickup truck when you wrote that song?" Lovett asked.

Of course he did. Every American singer-songwriter since Bob Dylan has driven a pickup truck, or at least used the Ford flatbed as a symbol of every American's love of freedom of the road. The 55-year-old Hiatt is no exception.

"In this particular case, I had a car hitched to the back of my pickup," he stammered while trying to remember the details of the full story while laying the ground for a funny punchline. There was an accident.

"How did you feel when you crashed?" Lovett asked. "A lot of self-loathing," Hiatt deadpanned. Laughter.

"Welcome to my world," Lovett countered, causing most of the fans to double over in laughter.

And so it went. Two guitar legends playing songs and free-associating stories.

Of course, you could hear a pin drop as the two men talked and Lovett sang a song about his truck, which reminded Hiatt of Many Miles Before I Go. Playing harmonica and accompanying himself on the guitar, Hiatt sounded like he was channelling Dylan.

Speaking of channelling, it was Lovett who was the most entertaining of the two, delighting the fans with his offbeat questions and eccentric observations.

Lovett kept Hiatt, and the nearly 2,000 fans assembled, off-guard with probing, mysterious questions about the paranormal in Hiatt's songwriting.

"Yeah, we have a couple spirits out in the back by the barn," Hiatt admitted reluctantly.

In that one conversation, Lovett covered ghosts, his career-killing album of Lutheran hymns and Catholic statues all leading into a stirring rendition of South Texas Girl.

By now, the pattern was established. Song, talk, song, talk. But given the imagination of these two men, there was nothing routine about the show. Hiatt stuck with the automotive setlist, squeezing out sparks on Thunderbird, Walk On, a new tune called Old Days and Slow Turning after someone hollered a request. Lovett, when not playing the role of interviewer, sang Keep It In Your Pantry and a gorgeous song about an old man alone in the suburbs.

"That's another beautiful song, it's like a painting," Hiatt said.

"Thank you John," Lovett smiled, "But it's not a painting." And so it went. Lyle Lovett and John Hiatt. I imagine that the fans, most of them middle-aged dudes, have all seen their share of concerts, but few have had the experience of being this intimate with players as great and good-natured as these two.