Is that Morrissey? No, but close enough.

CAMBRIDGE -- Tough night for the bouncers, this. A real battle. I swear I saw one nodding off under his lowered hat brim -- eyes closed, chin sinking toward his chest, arms still dutifully folded. But then the most violent thing about Morrissey fans has always been the violence of their love, and when Sweet and Tender Hooligans -- billed as The Ultimate Tribute to Morrissey and The Smiths -- played the Middle East Downstairs on Friday night, all potential for disorder was subsumed in a collective swoon of joy.

The Hooligans, who have been covering Morrissey's songs since 1992, recently went through a personnel shake-up (new bassist, new rhythm guitarist). That may account for the anxiously swapped glances and hesitant playing that nearly derailed the set's opener, ``The Queen Is Dead ." Things settled down for ``Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now ," however, and by the end of ``First of the Gang to Die ," the vibe was secure.

Vocalist Jose Maldonado 's impersonation or incarnation of Stephen Patrick Morrissey has the arbitrary, miraculous quality of a gift -- a strange gift, but a gift nonetheless. In thick-rimmed spectacles and militant cardigan , Maldonado whirls with vivid grace through the Mozza playbook: the ostrich-like neck extensions, the cowgirl antics with the microphone cord, the don't-touch-me hands, the rogue tongue . . . His rich, spiraling baritone, note-perfect even through the terraced octaves of ``This Charming Man ," seals the deal.

So total was his embodiment of Morrissey, in fact, that when Maldonado addressed us in the accents of his native Los Angeles -- to remind us, for example, that this was Morrissey's 47th birthday -- it was something of a blow.

The other Hooligans are not particular generators of magic. Lead guitarist David Collett 's Johnny Marr impression was strictly technical: a matter of notes played rather than spirits summoned.

But it was all, as it has always been, about Morrissey, and as the testosterone-free rockabilly of ``Vicar in a Tutu" surged to its climax and Maldonado dragged mid-yodel at his shirtfront to expose a rueful nipple, one could fancy that the Morrissey presence -- like that of a Peeping Tom -- was close by: hovering, observing, approving.