Three piano men walk into a bar.

"My farewell tour took five years, finally ending last year," says the man with the oversized eyeglasses. "A total of 330 performances. I went to Boston four different times."

"I may be crazy," says the bald guy with the graying goatee, "but I just pulled the plug on my Madison Square Garden residency last month after 150 shows over 10 years."

"I just can't stop," says the tall, skinny guy. "I just broke Elvis Presley's record in Vegas and Bette Midler's record at Radio City Music Hall."

Elton John, Billy Joel and Barry Manilow all started in the 1970s, saw their hits continue in the '80s and had a moment or two in the '90s. Among the three of them, they've accumulated 62 platinum albums (for million-sellers), six children, five divorces and enough income to keep Forbes busy (re)calculating its list of the richest music stars.

And they've each reached that fork in the road when it comes to going on the road.

At 77, Sir Elton is retired from performing except for maybe a cameo appearance. Joel, 75, is willing to do one or two shows a month, sharing a stadium bill with the likes of Sting or Rod Stewart.

And after calling his 2016 outing his "One Last Time Tour," the irrepressible Manilow, now 81, couldn't resist. He's on tour for the rest of August before resuming his residencies in Vegas and New York City.

Manilow returned to Xcel Energy Center on Friday for "The Last St. Paul Concert." Ach, enough with the farewell labels.

None of the 11,000 Fanilows at the hockey arena likely felt duped. Manilow, like Cher or Kiss, is just too entertaining to be cynical about his never-ending adios. On Friday, he rolled out the right mix of hits seasoned with a gooey blend of syrup, saccharine, schmaltz, cheesiness, hamminess (apologies for the un-kosher formula), a touch of patriotism and, most importantly, show-biz pizazz.

Unlike Sir Elton and Billy, Barry didn't spend nearly the entire concert sitting at a grand piano. He had three dancer/backup singers whom he joined hoofing across the stage. Let's be honest: Manilow should probably not consider a turn on "Dancing with the Stars," but his energy and enthusiasm were undeniable.

And as with Cher, outfit changes were an essential part of the Mani-show (the striped, purple lamé dinner jacket was the best one). Manilow knows how to balance Vegas slickness and personal touches into a smartly paced, highly enjoyable concert for sports arenas.

Knowing he is both beloved and be-hated (his word), the fast-talking Brooklynite fired off many self-deprecating jokes. There was the one about elevators and dental offices playing his songs: "As long as there are teeth, my songs will live forever, I think," he proclaimed. Considering his aging audience, maybe he should rewrite the line to include dentures.

Manilow has always had a knack for finding or crafting catchy tunes. And not just those sing-along favorites like "Can't Smile Without You" and "It's a Miracle," the tune that opened and closed Friday's 95-minute show. He composed commercial jingles, as he demonstrated in concert with his Band-Aid and State Farm ads ("Like a good neighbor …"), as well as his "American Bandstand" theme song "Bandstand Boogie," an infectious dance number that featured his leather jacket and his female dancers' capri pants and a poodle skirt.

Backed by a 10-person band and the aforementioned trio of singer/dancers, the popmeister managed to sprinkle in sentiment without getting too sentimental. He told the story of how his grandfather — the first to believe in his talent — took young Barry into a 25-cent Manhattan recording booth to record "Happy Birthday." He played the scratchy disc of Gramps urging on his reluctant grandson.

And Manilow gave a plug for voting as his introduction to his 1992 flag-waving piece "Let Freedom Ring," which was accompanied by a local choir.

The thing that most stirred the crowd was Manilow's voice, as he delivered held high notes on such power ballads as "Weekend in New England" and "Even Now," which received extended ovations.

Friday's program reinforced Manilow as a master of earworms, a king of middle-of-the-road pop, the musical equivalent of a romance novel. It's not the kind of career that would necessarily land him in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame along with John and Joel.

The concert didn't seem nearly as emotional as 2016′s sayonara. There were no farewell speeches, not even a thanks for fan support for so many years. Manilow doesn't need to say goodbye, because he's not through performing. He indicated that he was having so much fun that he'd like to come back. Perhaps for "The Last Minneapolis Concert."