PORTLAND – A Neil Diamond show is like a trip to Vegas. It’s glittery. It’s cheesy. But if someone offered you two tickets right now, you’d probably go.

Why? Because even though you hate to admit it, you know it will be fun.

There’s nothing like a “Sweet Caroline” singalong to warm up even the coolest cynic, and there were plenty of “hands, touching hands, reaching out, touching me, touching you” Friday night at the Cumberland County Civic Center. Fans young and old, hip and not-so packed the building – even the seats behind the stage – for a sold-out concert that felt like a blend of Tom Jones and Air Supply.

The crooner conducted the 21/2-hour-long concert like a ringmaster, smiling at all the right moments, making his groupies swoon (and yes, Neil Diamond does have groupies), dazzling fans with his stage presence – and his sparkly crystal-trimmed shirt.

He kicked off nearly three hours of music with – big surprise – a flag-flying, patriotic rendition of “America.” Bathed in red, white and blue light, he raised his right fist triumphantly as flags simultaneously unfurled from the staging. He later dedicated a rendition of “He Ain’t Heavy (He’s My Brother)” to America’s “true heroes” – our firefighters, police officers, and troops abroad defending our freedom. It was a spectacle, and the audience ate it up.

Diamond, who launched his musical career more than 25 years ago, knows how to work a crowd. He last visited Portland almost 20 years ago to the day, and followed up the opener with “Hello, Again.” He’s older now, and his voice lacks some of the thunder of his earlier albums, from which he sampled heavily Friday night.

But what he lacked in resonance, he made up for in -shall we say – vigor.

As he purred “(Girl) You’ll Be a Woman Soon,” he summoned a twentysomething woman up to the stage, got down on one knee, then lay flat on the ground, caressing her face, serenading her nose and eyelids, and ending it all with a kiss. He then asked the man seated next to her if they came together. When he nodded, Diamond said, “Well, now she’s ready for you.”

Brad Pitt? Maybe. Neil Diamond? Probably not. He should’ve called up one of the thousands of middle-aged women in the audience, waving posters, gesturing with Frog King hand puppets (a nod to a lyric in “I Am, I Said”), dressed bedazzlingly like Neil.

There were plenty of men in their early 20s there, however, who were more into Brother Neil’s Traveling Salvation Show than their dates were. There was no speaking in tongues, but there were plenty of smoke and mirrors, backed up with a miniature orchestra, a blinding light show, and dancing girls who doubled as soulful backup singers.

It was a hot September night, after all, and everyone goes. Everyone knows Brother Neil’s show.