Chris Isaak: He jokes, he struts, then he lays bare his soul

Stand-up comedy act or blazing rock 'n' roll show? The answer was "yes!" when Chris Isaak brought his multifaceted entertainment troupe to the Pier on Friday night.

The music was fine — a faultless version of the smooth pop and rock songs he's been playing with the same band for nearly 20 years. His laugh-out-loud monologues were neatly interspersed and carried the same brand of cool.

"You'll be spitting out sequins in the parking lot," he said by way of telling the sold-out crowd what to expect.

Isaak sauntered around the stage resplendent in a gleaming mauve Western-style suit, the flamboyance of which he was all too aware. Rare is the rocker who can pull off any shade of pink, especially when complemented by spangles and personalized guitars. Fortunately, Isaak is singular in this regard; he's earned his pomposity and pulls it off with appropriate ironic detachment.

Wearing an insolent smirk and a white F-hole guitar with "Chris" emblazoned on the strap, Isaak launched with "American Boy," his signature tune and theme of "The Chris Isaak Show." The 90-minute set was heavily weighted to his latest album, "Always Got Tonight," and packed added vigor thanks to the polished dynamism of his band, Silvertone (dressed in matching suits of classy black).

They had fun with some of their better-known songs, especially "Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing," which became a deeply funky rockabilly hip-swinger, literally. Channeling Elvis through quivering lips, knees and pelvis, Isaak growled out the chorus between guitar strums, pausing for an extended comedy vamp halfway through.

The comic patter was laced with innuendo about girls, sex, relationships — subjects embedded in his image — and often served as a way of introducing the band.

"You coulda stayed home and watched us on TV, but you came out," he said in thanks, and in reference to the cable series in which he and his band play versions of themselves.

Guitarist Hershel Yatovitz soared on such raucous numbers as "Speak of the Devil," and "Notice the Ring," and lent even more mystery to Isaak's sultry croon on "Wicked Game." Between energetic rhythm accompaniments, drummer Kenney Dale Johnson and bass player Roly Salley were often foils for Isaak's shtick.

When several brassieres flew up from the swarming pit and landed at Isaak's feet, he was momentarily distracted from a mid-song comedy riff. "This one's still warm," he said with a wry shake of the head, then, collecting the garments, "We'll play dress-up on the bus later."

For the encore, Isaak made his grand re-entrance clothed as a human disco ball. As if that sight weren't dazzling enough, a bevy of babes swarmed onto the stage to boogie along with a jazzed-up version of "San Francisco Days."

After a spotlighted foray into the crowd, he closed the show by laying bare his soul, solo under azure floods, with the wrenching ballad, "Blue Hotel." It was a reminder that, funny as he is, Isaak's music remains powerfully emotive.

Ted Fry: tedfry@earthlink.net.