WINNIPEG - He may not be in the prime of his life anymore but Nashville darling John Prine is still a force to be reckoned with -- as he ably demonstrated to a crowd of adoring fans last night.

Playing at Pantages Playhouse (and marking his third visit to Winnipeg in four years), the whisky-voiced 59-year-old proved a captivating -- if a mite predictable -- presence on stage, spinning through two hours' worth of well-worn gems culled from his storied 35-year career.

Prine, who in recent years has survived throat cancer and hip replacement surgery, spent almost as much time playing storyteller/stand-up comedian as he did singing last night, regaling his followers (many of them musicians from the local roots community) with off-the-cuff anecdotes in between each number.

Backed by a rhythm guitarist and a stand-up bass player, Prine kicked things off with the utopian ode Spanish Pipedream before segueing into the anti-war anthem Your Flag Decal Won't Get You Into Heaven Anymore.

"I wrote this song in 1969 and retired it in 1975 and had it stuffed and mounted over the fireplace," Prine joked about the second tune. "Couple years ago I had to bring it down and put it back into action after a special request from -- believe it or not -- the president of the United States of America. It wasn't a formal request but believe me, he was asking for it."

After cracking wise that he only had two speeds ("That was fast, this is slow,") Prine switched gears for the mournful Six O'Clock News and Souvenirs, claiming the latter was his mother's favorite song.

"I used to be able to go to her house and sing this for her and she would cook me just about anything in the world," he smiled. "Power of music."

He kicked up the pace again for Grandpa Was A Carpenter, Fish and Whistle and Glory Of True Love (from new album Fair and Square) and then slowed it down again for Long Monday, Crazy As A Loon and, of course Angel From Montgomery.

But no matter the speed, Prine -- with that well-worn, sandpaper-kissed tenor -- imbued everything he did with a gentlemanly sense of class today's new-country upstarts would do well to take note of.

Earlier, opening act Dan Reeder had the house singing along with his half-hour set of sweet-natured, soft-spoken folk narratives, two of which featured the smartest sentiments we've heard all week -- "I drink beer to help my brain," and "I've got all the f---ing work I need."

Amen to that, brother.