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Chris Isaak, 52, was probably just born at the wrong time.

Nearly 25 years after he got his start with “Silvertone,” he descends on the Barbara B. Mann Performing Arts Hall Tuesday night with a show that’s likely to be more of a singing time capsule than the set of a viable recording artist.

Had he come of age 50 years earlier, the rock crooner would have fit in quite neatly at Sun Records. Some place, perhaps, between Elvis Presley and Roy Orbison in Sam Phillips arsenal of rock ‘n’ roll groundbreakers.

At best, he’d have held his own with the greats. At worst, he would have ended up as teen favorite Ricky Nelson. Either way, not too shabby.

Instead, this singer-songwriter of hits like “Wicked Game” and “Baby Did a Bad, Bad Thing” came of age as in the era of hair bands and slashing guitars. His buoyant pompadour and pleasantly snug T-shirt made him look more like a “Grease” extra than rock idol Jon Bon Jovi. He just didn’t fit the mold. Still doesn’t.

That’s not to say that Isaak doesn’t have talent. For a singer filed under “Rock” at your neighborhood music store, his voice is a surprisingly deft and malleable instrument: His low velvet register can transform into a floating falsetto in a sweet, effortless glide. It was an effect he used so well at first in “Wicked Game,” but became so emblematic of his style that to mention Isaak often draws eye rolls. It’s like, “Come on, man, come up with something else.”

The trademark Isaak tune was moody and dense with feeling, like a David Lynch movie told with guitar. He wrote songs that focused on the dark gray areas of the human psyche — tortured love and obsession — without crossing over to maudlin or creepy.

He blended genres, yet still sounded entirely authentic. While the anchor of his sound was most definitely Orbison, Isaak took elements from various California styles — the surf rock of Jan and Dean, Nelson’s pretty boy delivery and the country rock of Gram Parsons.

And in addition to the platinum selling albums, he took on bit parts in major films (“Silence of the Lambs”) and headed an eponymous sitcom on Showtime from 2001-04 which was sort of “The Monkees” meets “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” though not as smart as that sounds.

So why isn’t Chris Isaak too big to play Naples?

Maybe it was as simple as bad timing.

And his cross-platform ventures? Why didn’t they catapult him into A-side celebrity instead of prime candidate for “Dancing with the Stars?”

Think Sinatra. Think Elvis. Then, think Isaak.

This sort of cross-platform promotion was the bread and butter of Sinatra and Elvis. But they were so famous as singers that you could forgive their foibles as actors. It didn’t matter if Elvis was bad in “Blue Hawaii,” because he’d already released about two dozen classic singles.

Or take the flip-side with Eddie Murphy. His singing was laughable, but thankfully so was his comedy (well, at least until 1990 or so).

But Isaak never pushed one thing — whether it’s acting or comedy or songwriting or singing — long enough to peak. He had too many irons and not enough fire.

His best work came as a musician. Yet, he could never string two consecutive hits together. His two most recognizable songs charted eight years apart.

Most of Isaak’s career was spent on the fringes of rock radio. And what airplay he did get came from the success of his songs in other mediums. “Wicked Game,” languished for a year before Lynch used it in “Wild At Heart.” Then it took another year to hit the Top 10. “Baby Did a Bad, Bad Thing” came into the pop culture consciousness four years after it was released, thanks to Stanley Kubrick’s “Eyes Wide Shut.”

After those singles made it to radio he enjoyed two brief moments as an MTV sex object. But even that was thanks largely to one brilliant video director (Herb Ritts) and two beautiful supermodels (Helena Christensen and Laetitia Casta).

Still none of them helped promote the Chris Isaak brand into a household name.

And that’s too bad.