Billy Joel and Sting showed Indianapolis they've still got it in Lucas Oil show...

This is the Billy Joel that he was always meant to become.

I first had this thought when he played "Vienna" Saturday night at Lucas Oil Stadium in Indianapolis. I'm approximately the age he was when he wrote the song. When I got home, I looked up old footage of him playing that song as a 30-something. I don't really believe the wise words out of that 30-something's mouth ― he's trying a little too hard.

I believed them tonight.

Joel was an effortless class act. His full-bodied baritone tumbled out of him like it always has, amplified by stellar acoustics in the stadium. And there was just a look about him ― of ease, joy, comfort in his own skin, smirking with the casual wisdom of older age, while footage of his younger self occasionally flashed on the big screens. It's like he's grown into himself.

I could say the same for Sting, too. Though dressed like a teenager, he had all the confidence and gusto of a man his age, and the pipes of a man half that.

Let's get into some highlights.

There were no divas here.

The clock struck 7:05 p.m. and those who'd managed to find their seats by then were rewarded with the magic duo themselves. Joel and Sting bopped to "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" ― vocally, it sounded a bit like a warmup before a definitely-not-full stadium. I admit, I was one of the scurriers catching it from ... not my seat.

After that, Sting flew through his set, light on the small talk and quick with the transitions. He was done in about an hour, and then I barely made it back from my bathroom break in time for Joel, who came on 15 minutes before I expected. The entire show was over shortly before 11. No complaints here.

As a former chorister, I love crowd work. But I cringe with empathy when the performer is left hanging.

Sting's vocals were strong, perfectly pitched and a joy to listen to. But I suspect there wasn't a critical mass of Billy Joel fans who also knew "So Lonely," a Sting song from The Police days, because the audience was a little shy during an attempt at call-and-response. "Welcome to this one-man show," apparently.

We redeemed ourselves, though, during a call-and-response portion of "Roxeanne," which was his encore. He gave part of it a delightful jazzy twist.

Joel had some good news and bad news. The bad news being that, as we know, he doesn't have a whole lot of new songs.

He's only released two new singles this century, in fact, one of which came out about a year ago. But therein lies the good news, he told the audience early on: "You don't have to sit and listen to a whole bunch of new shit."

Fine by us.

Joel was full of quips and laid-back humor, commenting on the rotating piano ("That's it for the special effects"), making snide remarks about a few songs he "got in trouble for" ("Only the Good Die Young" and "Sometimes a Fantasy") and preparing his audience's expectations when he got up for his first standing song ("Don't get all excited, I'm not Mick Jagger"). He proceeded to mime some Mick-Jagger-lite motions with his hands and feet as the band played the beginning of "Start Me Up."

He also tried to manage expectations for "An Innocent Man" by explaining that his voice has indeed gotten deeper since those comfortable tenor days. ("Pray for me," he said.) But, I believe he still sung it in the original key, and he hit the high C with a stunning clarity that prompted a roar from the crowd. The only song I noticed him altering the key was "New York State of Mind" ― but feel free to correct me, kindly.

And finally, I sure noticed the cheeky grin when he whipped out the harmonica, because there's only one song that's for.

"Here we go," I heard one of my neighbors say.

And maybe this, too, will sound cheesy, if you weren't there. The stadium went dark, and just the right smattering of concert-goers turned on their phone flashlights. On the screen was Joel's silhouette, backlit by our artificial stars. "It's a pretty good crowd for a Saturday," he sang, and we cheered.

It was so easy to, as it goes, "forget about life for a while."

What was clear on his face and in his actions was that Joel has nothing left to prove. He's there because he loves performing and performers, and he shared the stage joyously with his band.

As a former a cappella nerd, I loved when Joel and four bandmates sang crisp five-part harmonies to "The Lion Sleeps Tonight," "Barbara Ann" and "The Longest Time." Sting came out to duet Joel in "Big Man on Mulberry Street," this time in a sharp silver suit. Guitarist and backup vocalist Mike DelGuidice got to flaunt his tenor chops in the spotlight with "Nessun Dorma," an Italian aria that, of course, preceded Joel's "Scenes From an Italian Restaurant."

Gary's own Crystal Taliefero, a percussionist and multi-instrumentalist, got her own spotlight singing Tina Turner's "River Deep Mountain High," criss-crossing the stage with exuberance. I only wish her microphone had been appropriately balanced to show off her stunning vibrato ― it sounded like it was still set for backup vocals.

Is it really an encore if it's five songs? Or is it a second set that you tricked us into standing for?

Well done.

Joel started with "We Didn't Start the Fire," which is probably the one song that made me think about the world outside ― accompanied by the visual aid of a finger swiping a phone screen from picture to picture of each historical figure and event named in the song, all joining a collage cloaked in, well, fire.

The crowd never bounced with more joy than when "Uptown Girl" came next. And in reminding us that "It's Still Rock and Roll To Me," Joel showed some pizzazz with the mic stand: lifting it up, spinning it upside down and every which way, and, at the conclusion of "You May Be Right," lobbing it in the air toward the waiting hands of a stage hand.

When he was done, as if to remind us that it's not, in fact, as easy as it looks, Joel only half-jokingly put his hands on his thighs in a slight squat, the way you do when you're catching your breath. He lingered for a bit, mic-less, to wave and thank the crowd several times.

I used to mourn the fact that I never got to see some of my favorite musicians in their prime. But Billy Joel solved at least one of those problems for me tonight.

(c) The Indianapolis Star by Kayla Dwyer