"S" words...

...make up most of the descriptors for a Michael Bublé concert -- saucy, swingin', sexy, sauntering... To be a bona-fide Bublé believer, you have to see him live. I liked him before that, obviously. But now it's different.

Now I've got the big picture of what makes him the kind of artist for whom "crooner" doesn't suffice. Bublé is a musician -- a great one. He's also a master entertainer. How many singers can leap over crowd railings, dance like Elvis, swing a mic stand and flirt with thousands of women simultaneously while singing like a bird? And in a designer suit, no less.

The kid's got charisma, yes, and style in spades (which is a must when people are throwing out Ol' Blue Eyes comparisons). But don't let that distract you from his oodles of musical talent -- a powerhouse voice that holds the same intensity at the start of "Try a Little Tenderness" as it does at the height of "Come Fly With Me."

Some people quickly dismiss singers associated with the word "croon," but they're the same people who forget that singing jazz music from back in the day is no easy task. These songs are vocally demanding and require preciseness, power, focus and a ridiculous range. Luckily, Bublé also has these in spades. You see, even the most technically advanced musicians fall flat because they can't swing. That's what makes the genre such a unique art form, and what makes Bublé a master.

Shows like his are tough to beat if only for the big-band sound. This music, played by top-notch musicians, is a trip to listen to live. It's like being elevated for an hour and a half. The band's potent foundation for Bublé's soaring voice is pure divinity -- "Sway" has never been so saucy nor "Fever" so sultry (even more "S" words). And "Save The Last Dance For Me"? Forget about it.

His charm is also undeniable. Without so much as unbuttoning his jacket through the whole performance, Bublé blends tradition -- respect for the genre's songs -- with modernity -- referencing the Black Eyed Peas and throwing rock 'n' roll gestures at the crowd. While a bit naughty in his banter, Bublé's self-deprecating humor plays well off of his obvious appeal to the fairer sex.

To men who don't understand what all that appeal is about, I can compare it to a Victoria's Secret fashion show for them. And I mean that in the least-crass way possible. Men and women obviously aren't wired the same, and without crossing into lurid territory, let me say that we'd just as soon be watching even a mildly pleasant-looking fellow sing love songs to us for hours. It's just, well, nice. So there you go.

But again, I digress. Bublé -- without the dapper suit or entertainment antics or sex appeal or any of that -- is fabulous. A voice like that doesn't need icing on the cake. But in his case, it's just gravy.