Aw, Shucks! Corn Mo is ready to rock.

The first time I ever saw Corn Mo, it was during a variety show filled with sketch comics straight from the showbiz sub-basement. We’re talking pretentious, low-concept humor and guys who went to the Magic Shop for a Penn & Teller routine. So it wasn’t unexpected when a long-haired metal dude strolled on stage, strapped on an accordion and did a rendition of Tom Jones’ "Delilah" while slamming a cymbal with his foot. He was the perfect summary of post-Jack Black cretins goofing on rock ’n’ roll because it’s too uncool to actually enjoy the music.

And with an accordion, too. How very 1991.

But this was followed with a nice original that was played fairly straight. The next tune was a Gary Busey tribute, though, and that seemed tired. Then the guy announced that he was going to do a song about time travel that his friends didn’t like, but that he thought was pretty good.

This turned out to be a prog-accordion epic that recapped the plot of Jean-Claude Van Damme’s Timecop. By the time he was through, I had no idea if Corn Mo was a comic hack, a real retard or a true genius.

And I’m still not sure, which gives even more credence to that genius theory.

Unlike most NYC rockers, Corn Mo stands out in a crowded restaurant. He’s a burly guy sporting long blond hair and an amiable attitude. There’s none of the heavy-metal vibe you’d expect from some guy hawking a persona. Instead, he’s friendly and polite and shy. He’s not sporting any vintage 70s garb, either. Corn Mo is wearing the same Eddie Bauer shirt that I have in my own regular-guy wardrobe. As it turns out, we both got them as gifts from our mothers.

Me and Corn Mo–we’re simpatico. And we go back further than I imagine, as he explains over beef brisket how he ended up in New York from Dallas. His big break came when he recorded the Charles in Charge theme for a long-forgotten CD of punk bands covering tv tunes. I remember that bizarre deconstruction well, since the Charles in Charge theme is one of my favorite songs.

Corn Mo ruined the theme, but some good still came of it. "The first time I came to New York," Corn Mo explains, "was for the record release party for the CD. We took our van and rode up to New Jersey, where I called Jake Szufnarowski, who ran the label who put out the record, telling him that we were just calling to find out where the Wetlands are, and that we’re going to be there, and he says, ‘Oh, that show got cancelled. You should have called before you came up.’ I was, like, ‘Well, we’re in New Jersey now,’ so he booked some shows for me."

Making a friend in New York was the kind of break Corn Mo needed. Talent may get ignored here, but things had gotten abusive in Dallas. "I had a small group of people back home who were really into my solo acoustic gigs," Corn Mo recalls, "but I played a show, a big festival for this local radio station, and I got flipped off and booed by about 3000 kids. This was in ‘95, and I came out and did a Guns ’N’ Roses cover, and they seemed to like it, but I came out for another song, and they were doing sound checks on the monitors, so I couldn’t hear myself, and I was getting frustrated, and I looked out, and everybody was shooting the finger at me.

"And then No Doubt came on, just the guitarist and the girl, and they did ‘Just a Girl,’ and I was really pissed off, because I thought they were just club kids and everyone loved them. I thought, ‘What the fuck am I doing wrong?’ And then the guy who booked me came up and asked if I wanted to meet Lisa Loeb, and I said, ‘No!’ I was just so upset."

But, as the ever-affable Corn Mo notes, another good thing came from that bad experience: "One of my wrestling heroes happened to be backstage. I kind of gushed over him, and he said, ‘Hey, I’ll send you an eight-by-ten of myself,’ and I said, ‘Okay,’ and I gave him my address, and he said, ‘You know, I’ll just swing by your house,’ so he came over and stayed for about an hour and me and my friends got to ask him all these questions. He was really nice.

"I wrote a song about him called ‘Shine on, Golden Warrior.’"

But a more typical night would have Corn Mo opening for comedian Paul Rodriguez, blowing off the promoter’s suggestion that he learn some tejano songs on his accordion ("I was being kind of cocky"), and being booed off stage. "There was a laser pointed at my eye, too," he recalls.

Having a guilty friend–and now manager–worked out well for Corn Mo, who got in the habit of touring over to New York City. He’s been living here now for about two years, playing crappy venues and saving his money. The payoff was one of 2002’s most amazing and underheard albums. The Magic Is You! is typical Corn Mo greatness, filled with sea shanties and gorgeous ballads delivered with rock-star attitude.

Topics include lollipops, baloney, being a platypus and being a Star Captain. Obvious reference points are Van Halen, Schoolhouse Rock and Elton John. There’s also lots of Paul Williams, as should be expected from a man who cites Phantom of the Paradise as an inspiration for his new rock opera.

There are also no guitars. Some banjo, though.

Like the beautiful suburbs of Wayne’s World, Corn Mo exists in a time where punk never happened. It’s also very telling that The Magic Is You! is in a gorgeous digipak. Corn Mo poses in white on the cover, looking very much like the other large 70s rock star to which Corn Mo would be a mere side dish. It’s the product of a man who can’t quite grasp that he’s out of the mainstream.

And the album also features "Busey Boy," the song that I originally figured to show Corn Mo on the tail-end of a comedic fad.

"I wrote that song, like, back in ‘93," he explains. "For a long time, all I had was that part where I sing, ‘I’m not your Gary Busey boy.’ But it doesn’t bother me that everyone likes Gary Busey now. I resolve it by telling myself that I have what I offer, and if another artist comes out with something like what I do, then that guy has just as much to offer. Otherwise, I’d go nuts."

But does Corn Mo understand that most acts would’ve turned a tune about being mistaken for Gary Busey into some kind of humorous novelty song?

"I fucking hate that shit," says Corn Mo, in a rare display of anger. "I hate that little, kind of, ‘Hey aren’t I clever?’-type stuff. It really upsets me. I’m sure that I can sound like I’m falling into that, but I’m always careful to try and not to be what I hate."

And, it’s worth suggesting, he could try writing the occasional song about boys and girls.

"I’m working on a new song right now," replies a pleased Corn Mo, "and it’s about getting dry-humped at a Rush show, because there’s no girls who go to Rush shows, but this is about me going to a Rush show and going into the girl’s bathroom. It didn’t really happen, though. I saw Rush, but there weren’t any girls. I just made up a scenario.

"I’ve got another song, too," he adds, "that I play sometimes about me and a girl making out at the mall.

"That never happened, either."

But don’t feel too bad for Corn Mo. He’s got a very nice trapeze-artist girlfriend he met while touring with the Western show of the Bindlestiff Family Cirkus. The career isn’t going too bad, either. David Cross is a fan, and he recently brought out Corn Mo for a bow at one of those hipster comedy Tinkle shows at Pianos. The folks at American Movie Classics also selected Corn Mo as one of the normal folks to host their "My Favorite Movie" show on their cable channel. (Corn Mo got to do The Poseidon Adventure.)

And Corn Mo gets to play a genuine New York City tourist attraction this week, as he hosts an evening of tribute bands this Friday at B.B. King’s. ("The Axl Rose in the Guns ’N’ Roses band is pretty straight on.") It helps that Corn Mo’s manager put together the whole evening, but this is still a big break for Corn Mo, who’s a little too old to be this puzzled by the music industry.

"I don’t know how to do anything," he helpfully explains. "I don’t really know what I am, I guess, and it’s been hard to coordinate who to send my record out to. I tried sending it to magazines I like to read myself, but there wasn’t any reviews. Nothing happened. But I get to play in shows a lot. I’m really bad about going out sometimes, because I’m tired when I get off work, but my friends are in bands who definitely come see you and support you."

And, of course, there’s still the struggle of playing out as guy with an accordion. "Yeah," Corn Mo concedes, "I don’t want to be a novelty act, but there’s a certain charm in just being alone. In my head, the songs always sound a lot bigger than they come out. I’ve been thinking about getting a drummer just to fill it out a little more."

Most likely, though, Corn Mo will keep struggling outside of any niche. New York’s club scene is currently like being in Los Angeles in the wake of the Knack. A guy like Corn Mo has probably never been more out of fashion. He mentions that he’s 33 years old, and I point out that’s a good age to be crucified.

"Yeah," Corn Mo replies, "but it’s also the year that Frodo came of age."

An awkward pause.

"I guess I shouldn’t know that, huh?"

It’s a perfectly nerdy moment, which once again raises the big question: Is Corn Mo for real? There are lots of reasons to believe otherwise. For one, he has an extensive and sophisticated internet presence. That David Cross connection is also kind of troubling. And Corn Mo is certainly fond of the occasional random lie, such as listing his height as four-nine in the official Corn Mo bio.

If it’s an act, though, Corn Mo deserves credit for just being believable. We’re dining at a nearby restaurant during his lunch break in Chelsea. I ask where he works, and he replies that it’s a place called Alloy. I know Alloy. They’re a marketing group that specializes in kids, teens and young adults. A guy like Corn Mo would be a valuable asset for a company like that.

I ask Corn Mo if he does design or copywriting.

"Like today," he replies, "I put the desks together because they hired new employees. But it’s a really good job. They let me take time off to tour."

Corn Mo plays Friday, April 11, at B.B. King Blues Club, 237 W. 42nd St. (betw. 7th & 8th Aves.), 212-997-4144.