Noise, dissonance, and lack of discernible rhythm aren't the only ways to challenge an audience. As Norwegian trumpet player Arve Henriksen proved last night during his first set at the Lutheran Church, music with a serene, meditative quality requires its own kind of patience. This, of course, isn't necessarily a bad thing, just risky. But Henriksen was, for the most part, rewarded with the attentiveness that his music demands. Even before the moment when he'd visibly won the audience over, it was clear he was succeeding in expanding the crowd's patience threshold because people were making an effort to keep quiet more than usual.  

Working in the ambient (electronica-tinged) jazz style that falls in the same ballpark as ECM labelmate Jon Hassell, Henriksen was accompanied solely by effects, samples, and digital manipulations from programmer Jan Bang, who also produced and appears on Henriksen's new album "Cartography." At the show, about half the pieces rose and hung suspended in the air like mist, without any rhythmic foundation, while Bang supplied electronic rhythm beds for the rest. But Bang's sense of rhythm is unconventional to say the least, and Henriksen's playing, while beautiful, graceful, and uncomplicated in its construction, doesn't spoon feed the ear with easily digestible melodies. There's an austerity to Henriksen and Bang's harmonic sensibility, and spoken-word samples with dark undertones added hints of urban anxiety to the landscape feel of the music. 

But, while Henriksen's tone, command, and lyricism (not to mention Bang's timing and manual dexterity) are all a marvel to behold, the decay in the various reverbs and delays (i.e. the way the echoes trailed off) acted as an instrument unto themselves and, in a sense, lay at the heart of the music. As remote as the pieces could be at times, Henriksen drew a very emotional response from the people who stayed, and a complex sing-along appeared to be what ultimately sealed the deal in his favor. Pulling the familiar showbiz move of splitting the audience in half, Henriksen assigned counterpoint melodies to each section, a back-and-forth during which he was visibly having a good time and feeding off the crowd, which in turn was clearly happy to be included. 

From there, the night suddenly turned into a quadruple shot of relentless high-octane groove. On my way towards East and Chestnut for Tower Of Power, I was drawn into the Big Tent by a rhythmic thwackety-thwack that I thought was a snare drum, but turned out to be Alex MacDonald, washboard player with Dwayne Dopsie and the Znydeco Hellraisers. By this point, Dopsie and company had whipped the sizeable crowd into a frenzy. (Note To Self: listen to more zydeco music.) So much so that I just had to... move my feet!... dance!... eat chicken! Yes, the groove got me so worked up that I needed to nourish myself on the spot. So I'm standing there dancing and devouring a quarter-pound of chicken at the same time, trying to make sure I don't bump into anyone, when I see Dopsie and MacDonald duel-soloing on top of a table at the back of the hall. It was that kind of night, and holding its own at the center of the whole band's fiery playing was Dopsie's voice, which is about as rich and robust a sound as human vocal chords have ever produced. The band appears on the free Gibbs Street stage tonight, so you know the place is just going to be going off. 

Note To Self #2: Now that you've seen Tower Of Power, don't ever assume that an artist is past its prime just because of their age. 

Note To Self #3: The next time you get to see Tower Of Power, run -- don't walk, and make sure you get your ass there on time. 

I'd been skeptical about whether Tower Of Power still had it. Suffice it to say that the band pretty much incinerated any doubts I'd had. 

In short: my f***ing goodness is this band as tight, funky, jazzy, and soulful as all get-out. The songs -- many of them new, actually, and no less rousing than the early hits -- were punctuated most awesomely by those signature Tower Of Power rat-tat-tat licks from the horns and drums. And longtime drummer Dave Garibaldi's chops and distinct ride-cymbal work had me, again, helplessly moving my legs and saying "god-da'yam!" out loud multiple times. The last song before encores was "What Is Hip," which sounded shockingly fresh. 

I turned the corner on to catch the local Po' Boys Brass Band closing its second Gibbs Street set with its rendition of Edgar Winter's "Frankenstein." Just as my crowd-please-o-meter was about to start going off in the red, the Boys' meaty four-trombone wall of sound and freight-train groove melted my cynicism away. This was the most active I've seen Gibbs Street in the entire eight days.

At 10:30, there was still a line for Pat Martino, and I was, strangely enough, still hungry for MORE groove. Dwayne Dopsie was still playing his second set, so it was a no-brainer: I ended the night with him and his Zydeco Hellraisers, only this time up close to the stage and bouncing up and down as the floor boards heaved under the weight of the crazed, twirling crowd. I didn't need any poultry enhancement this time. Again, catch Dopsie for free on Gibbs Street tonight.