TORONTO -- You can tell a lot about an audience by the way they scream.

There's the resounding huzzah of the male-dominated rock crowd, the teeny-boppers' otherworldly skree, or polite smatterings of handclaps and whistles from your avergage jazz punters.

The Philosopher Kings, however, draw a unique roar from their fans: Steady, but just a step shy of composed; too flinty and low for teens, but definitely female -- early 20s to 40s, impeccably stylish, mostly, and dang perty.

Those cries rang out like a band section of their own as The Philosopher Kings took the Massey Hall stage last night, and instantly signalled how sometimes some of the most important parts of a successful concert aren't on stage at all, but in front of it.

Granted, the Toronto soul-pop band put on all the smooth moves needed to earn the response from the three-quarters-full house of 2,000.

In singer Gerald Eaton, they have an ideal sex symbol for a crowd that can be loosely described as yuppie. He's a dapper, efficient performer who pours on most of his charm with his voice, not his rump. (Remember, I said most.)

That said, the group -- in last night's case swelled from its usual sextet to include horn and string sections -- didn't take a backseat to Eaton's, er, seat.

The Philosopher Kings laid down the soundtrack with Charms, Hurts To Love You, and their version of Godley & Creme's Cry, but much of the entertainment lay in Eaton's exchange with his rapt audience.

As if on cue, smitten ladies filed to the lip of the stage for a "moment" with Eaton, the exchange usually being a kiss of his hand as he looked on like a benevolent emperor.

Things heated up to Tom Jones levels during a people-pleasing version of You Don't Love Me (Like You Used To Do), where, according to some sort of tradition he hinted at while introducing the tune, the singer was presented with a dozen lacey bras of various colours. (One guy offered his sweater, but was turned away by Eaton, who claimed jokingly that he didn't want to start any "dirty rumours." Boo to that).

Somewhere in that high hormone flow the band snuck in some adventurous playing.

A capable bunch -- guitarist James McCollum and bassist Jay Levine are the low-profile musos behind the ingenious, irresistibly likable cartoon dance act Prozzak -- they stirred up a surprising dose of noise at times, taking full advantage of a live string section. That quickly crushed the fake-string synth sounds that dog so many modern R&B acts.

Likewise, keyboardist-songwriter Jon Levine and "space-guitar" player Brian West lent a weird edge that could have been played up even more.

Still, if the sonic tension betrayed the fact that the Kings have been listening to Radiohead as much as they have Al Green, Eaton seemed much more comfortable when the band geared down and just got sexy.

This, after all, was music for the bedroom, out of the bedroom. He had a room to seduce.

JAM! Rating: 3.5 out of 5