Justin Timberlake puts the moves – and the sounds – on The Q

Wanna know how words get made up? Go to a Justin Timberlake show.

When the former Mousketeer’s “Man of the Woods” tour stopped at Quicken Loans Arena Tuesday night, it wasn’t quite a concert. There was way too much dancing and theatrics for that.

The Man Of The Woods Tour, Cleveland, OH, EE.UU. +35 images

But it wasn’t quite a dance recital or a revue, either. There was way too much singing for that.

What to do? What to do?

Ah, here we go: The two-hour sensory blitzkrieg, featuring a serpentine stage that spanned the width of The Q floor, laser lights and a stunning collection of musicians, was a “concital”.

That’s never going to get past Merriam Webster or the even tougher judges, copy editors at The Plain Dealer. But dang it, that’s what it was.

The gifted Timberlake has the moves of Michael Jackson, the charisma of Cary Grant and the aww shucks of Mickey Rooney’s Andy Hardy. Not that anyone from this era knows who that is. Look it up, you whippersnappers. It’s the truth.

Timberlake is just a guy you WANT to hang around. He comes off as genuine, which is really rare in this era, sad to say. For one thing, he didn’t just introduce his cadre of backup singers during an acoustic set (complete with blazing campfire, and I swear a chigger or two). Nope, they all got chances to really showcase their vocals, with songs ranging from Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams to Lauryn Hill’s “Ex-Factor” to the Beatles’ “Come Together” and even John Denver’s “Thank God I’m a Country Boy”. They are so good that they easily could have upstaged him, and not too many artists would be willing to take that risk.

But more to the point is his personality. We’ve all seen his “Saturday Night Live” skits, and his movies. He’s droll, hilarious and gifted. Shoot, I heard a joke the other day that he was disappointed that his wife, Jessica Biel, wouldn’t let him name one of their kids Batmo, so he could call him Batmo Biel. Even the late Adam West is laughing at that one. Now honestly, I don’t know if it’s a true story, or if it’s just apocryphal. But it SOUNDS like the guy who kept a sold-out Q – including a skeptical music critic — happy and entertained for all that time.

The show wasn’t perfect. In the beginning, Timberlake’s vocals were so muddled as to make me wonder if he was channeling his inner Marcel Marceau (that’s another one you whippersnappers should go look up, because a mime is a terrible thing to waste). That got better as the night wore on. I have a theory about that: They do soundchecks to an empty arena, so naturally it rings and such. But 20,000 singing, dancing, hootin’ and hollerin’ warm bodies in the room tend to absorb the nuances.

You can, if you like, find fault with some of the singing in songs like “Filthy”, “Lovestoned“, “SexyBack” and “Mirrors“. But others – “Suit & Tie“, “Cry me a River“, “Drink You Away” and especially “Morning Light” (a song he co-wrote with country’s Chris Stapleton that sounds like it could have been a lost Marvin Gaye track) were nothing short of stellar.

OK, so the guy can sing. But man, can he dance! What was amazing wasn’t so much how good he was with his six backup dancers – although he was tremendous in some seriously fast-paced choreography. No, the highlight was a solo spot where he became Fred Astaire and turned a microphone stand into Ginger Rogers. And dang it, those are two more names you youngsters need to get off my lawn and go look up.

Francesco Yates, a young Canadian singer-songwriter who has similar dance moves, and plays a pretty wicked guitar, opened with a half-hour set that showcased a multi-octave vocal range that could almost rival Beverly Sills’. The difference is that Yates’ “soprano” was really a falsetto, but it was so pure that only Sills might know. And on top of that, he was able to impart a deliciously nasty rasp from time to time that moved it from aria to rant.

What? Who’s Beverly Sills? Trust me, in her day, she gave a heck of a concital.

Cleveland