The show: Bryan Adams at the Gusman Center, Miami

When: Friday night

The rundown: Adams, the Oscar-nominated singer/songwriter/composer/photographer/soundtrack ace, covering about 28 years of hits, deep album cuts and whatnot in a pleasingly laid-back, intimate show with just a guitar, some assistance from pianist Gary Briet, his signature raspy voice and the boyish, friendly demeanor he carries even as he approaches his 50th birthday. Awesome.

Songs we heard: Monster soundtrack hits “Everything I Do (I Do It For You), ”  from “Robin Hood: Prince Of Thieves,” “When You Love Someone,” from “Hope Floats,”  ”Have You Ever Really Loved A Woman” from “Don Juan DeMarco” and the sing-along finale, “All For Love” from “The Three Musketeers,” with the entire audience filling in for Sting and Rod Stewart; as well as “Heaven,” “This Time,” “Summer of ‘69,” “The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is You,” and others.

The Full Story: If you want to know how long Bryan Adams has been making hits, and how much his fans have grown up with him, from his 1983 breakout album “Cuts Like A Knife” until now, you need look no further than the seating at his Gusman Center show on Friday. You will notice that the pit section, where decades ago, those fans may have eagerly pressed in on foot, en sweaty masse, now has chairs in it.

But they’re not as comfy as the other seats, so maybe they’re still a little edgy.

Then again, Bryan Adams has made a career out of choosing earnestness over edge – it’s a move that made the once tousled-haired Canadian, thought to be the Great White North’s answer to Bruce Springsteen, a favorite of soundtracks, wedding bands, late-night dedication shows, karaoke and 30-somethings who like yelling the lyrics to “Summer of ‘69″ at the top of the their lungs.

And you know what? He and his fans seemed OK with that.

For two-ish hours, Adams, along with pianist Gary Briet, led fans through his entire catalogue, starting with one big hit (the adultery anthem “Run To You”) and reinterpreted several more before ending on another one (”All For Love,” originally done with Sting and Rod Stewart, coming across so much better and less cheesy with just Adams, his guitar and the crowd singing along.) He even made something cool out of “Have You Ever Really Loved A Woman,” which the writer of this review, a huge Bryan Adams fan, always found awkward and silly, but now kind of loves. Go figure.

Interestingly, when these songs are stripped down, there’s a surprising blues edge to a lot of these songs, which made more sense when Adams explained that Ray Charles was his musical hero. He impressed with a spare, sly version of “The Right Place,” which he wrote for Charles but which never made its way to Ray, instead becoming an album track for “American Idol” winner Taylor Hicks.

“He did a really beautiful job of it,” Adams said, pre-song. “It really pissed me off.”

Solo acoustic tours are attractive to venues and to artists because they cost less than a full band. But they do wonders for good songs too, allowing listeners to hear the quiet, naked guts of the lyric and the rhythm under the full band hoo-ha. “Tonight We Have The Stars,” for instance, a sweet enough song on CD, soared live, and even invited a look up at the Gusman’s sky-painted ceiling, which does, indeed, have twinkly stars on it (awww.)

Other high points: “Can’t Stop This Thing We Started,”  the gorgeously stripped “Straight From The Heart,” an amusing story about how love ballad “Heaven” was written for a movie about a male stripper (”Sorry for anyone who had that at their wedding,” Adams said), a great request period where Adams played what people yelled, including “In The Heat of The Night,” from 1987’s overlooked “Into The Fire” and a verse and a half of the beautiful, sad “The Best Is Yet To Come.” He even threw in a little “Here I Am” from the kid’s movie “Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron” for some kids in the front.

Adams, himself, was all the special effect the show needed, with his Everyman style – he pulled two people from the balcony to sit down front, and smiled, perplexed, when one of them started climbing the steps to the stage.

“Unless you’re gonna sing, you better sit in that seat,” he said, as she corrected herself and found her chair. Adams also told great stories, like how Americans still tell him about seeing him with Journey in 1983. The evening was relaxed, chill and warm, and when Adams finally waved and left, he seemed more than satisfied – he seemed grateful to have been there. And the audience was, too.