Since the River Cree Casino bills itself as a sort of 'Las Vegas of the North Woods,' I keep hoping they'll book someone as legendarily cheesey as Wayne Newton.

No such luck. Wayno was supposed to come, but had to pull out due to illness. What we're left with at our Indian casino are acts like Billy Idol, who packed the house - er, tent - last night. Yes, here is some splendid potential for first-rate hootiness.

The man known for his sneer and his fists and his spikey blond hair and some of the most ridiculous rock lyrics ever is 52 years old this year; rock 'n' roll itself is already approaching mandatory retirement age, if not over, depending on when you consider it was invented - so why not a minor rock icon like Billy Idol as a Vegas headliner? Imagine the senior citizens of the future with their faster tour buses, harder rocking musical tastes and far more powerful hearing aids.

Now let's get this straight: Cheesey doesn't necessarily mean bad. For both, go to Branson. For quality corniness that will sweep you away and leave you begging for more, Vegas is the place to see a show.

After a weak start - the lame but creepy Cradle of Love followed by a phoned-in rendition of Dancing With Myself - Idol and his seasoned crew proved worthy of the title of "rock 'n' roll casino headliner."

Yes, the checkered lounge jacket helped. Tossing autographed paper plates into the crowd was an original touch to the old crowd-pleasing trick. Mr. Idol also had trouble keeping a straight face during numerous sneering and fisting demonstrations.

He is well aware that these distinctive mannerisms made him a joke in some circles - a cartoon from the '80s forever - and yet he didn't hold back at all last night. Just as he must perform Rebel Yell and Mony Mony and White Wedding, Idol is expected to sneer and pump his fists. The crowd loved it.

Certain quieter numbers likewise lent themselves to the illusion of the new and improved loungey Billy. During the breezy Eyes Without a Face, one could almost imagine the singer interjecting, "Hey, folks, how's your steaks?" He also snapped his fingers during the acoustic first verse of White Wedding. Wayne Newton could do this, and indeed probably has.

But like any good Vegas show, the schtick and schmaltz are merely window-dressing for the heart of the performance. In this case, it turned out to be a full-tilt rock concert of the highest order.

Once Billy hit his "money" notes in Flesh for Fantasy - the third song where they finally seemed to warm up - there was no looking back.His guys dug in - and that was it. The crowd went crazy to the thundering backdrop of a bass-heavy mix so loud it made your scalp jiggle across your skull. The hits poured out.

At some point - probably after a blazing demonstration of guitar wankery from Steve Stevens - the show kicked into its highest gear and didn't let up. Soon after, following several spirited romps from his catalogue of classics, and drenched in sweat, Idol lost the zany suit jacket, opened his shirt and revealed his sculpted abs.

Check: sneer, fists, abs, his delightful additional lyrics to Mony Mony - all these we expect from Billy Idol. He worked hard to give them to us, perhaps not enough to earn the label of "hardest working man in show business," but plenty to make this band a hit on the casino circuit on their inevitable way to the new Billy Idol Theme Casino 10 years from now.

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