The recipe hasn't changed in 40 years: a shot of syrup, a sprinkle of saccharine, a splash of vanilla, a couple of marshmallows, a slice of cheese, a slice of ham and a big dollop of schmaltz.

Wait! Barry Manilow added an unexpected ingredient Thursday night at Xcel Energy Center: A hankie. It was his final appearance in the Twin Cities and there were a few tears. Tears of joy, tears of sadness, tears of trying to get that feeling again.

Those were simpler, more innocent times when Manilow was topping the pop charts, when he was the pioneer of the power ballad, the sovereign of schmaltz, the king of middle-of-the-road pop.

For his One Last Time Tour, Manilow, 72, sporting a mullet and a face frozen in time, tried to bring back those times when melodies, romance and hope ruled. His 85-minute show was breezy, slick and nostalgic. Overwhelmingly so.

All 8,000 concertgoers seemed to know all the words to all the songs — except a few husbands who couldn't even bother to sing along to "Can't Smile without You" even though the lyrics were projected on a giant video screen with a bouncing smiley face to guide you along.

A few couples slow-danced or swayed back and forth. Groups of women put their arms around one another and kumbaya-ed to the songs of their youth. And during "I Write the Songs," thousands of concertgoers waved their free souvenir green glowsticks like they were at an AARP rave. Not to worry. Nostalgia is not a dangerous drug.

Pop legend Barry Manilow was his usual hammy showman self Thursday night at the Xcel, billed as his last Twin Cities concert.

Despite the enthusiastic response from the Fanilows, the object of their affection seemed to be a bit of blasé Barry. He didn't make a big to-do about this being his final tour; he'll still record and perform an occasional show or do a residency in someplace like Las Vegas. He didn't give one of those clichéd "thanks for all the support for all the years" speeches. At least, he made a joke about once confusing St. Paul with the other city across the river.

On Thursday, Manilow carried on the way he has on stage for 40-some years. Like a hammy showman — with a little less energy and hyperness than before.

While his speaking voice was hoarse early in the evening, his singing voice was not loud enough. Was he singing too softly, was the microphone too far from his mouth or was the 10-man band too loud?

Somewhere in the night, Manilow found his voice, unleashing big notes on the ends of his big ballads like "Even Now" and "Ships." He even got a little teary during "I Made It Through the Rain."

The pacing seemed more akin to a Las Vegas casino than a farewell tour. A medley of old songs packed about 10 tunes into less than 15 minutes. Ballads segued into boogies and back again. Manilow smartly changed the texture of his presentation by doing two duets with singers on video.

He unearthed Judy Garland from an old TV show for "Zing! Went the Strings of My Heart," a number featured on Manilow's latest album, "Dream Duets." Then he duetted with himself on "Mandy" — from an appearance on TV's "Midnight Special" from 1975.

By the end of it all, it was clear that, after all these years, Manilow remains the musical equivalent of romance novels, greeting cards and chick flicks that end with a great big kiss. Pass a hankie, please.

Jon Bream • 612-673-1719