The Rock Hall's annual American Music Masters Series had a living honoree this year for the first time: Jerry Lee Lewis who attended Saturday's gala closing concert and was present as well in the vintage video clips shown between live performances. Narrated by Rock Hall CEO Terry Stewart and singer/actor Kris Kristofferson, the show followed the usual format: a series of one- or two-song performances, with many performers pausing to pay tribute or tell anecdotes about Lewis.

One of the strongest aspects of this year's show was that so many of the performers had personal ties with Lewis or worked with him in his heyday. Artists like Billy Lee Riley, who kicked off the proceedings with one of Lewis' best-known hits "Great Balls of Fire," Cowboy Jack Clements, Wanda Jackson, and Narvel Felts, who looked like an elderly lounge singer (he turned 69 Sunday) but sang "High School Confidential" with the unblemished tenor of a teenager, represented Lewis' rock 'n' roll and rockabilly roots and the glory days of Lewis' launching pad, Sun Records. And, in one of several bizarre touches, Lewis' cousin, the infamous Rev. Jimmy Swaggart, clad in a snazzy suit, played piano and performed "Precious Lord, Take My Hand," in a powerful, velvety voice that almost (almost!) made you understand why people sent him money. (Lewis' other famous cousin, country star Mickey Gilley, checked in with a video clip, and his sister Linda Gail and her daughters contributed "Good Golly Miss Molly.") The performers who had no direct connection to Lewis' '50s prime displayed a strong musical affinity for the material, especially the hard-rocking George Thorogood and heart-wringingly soulful singer Shelby Lynne, who performed a knockout version of "Breathless." For a change of pace, the Del McCoury Band gave an acoustic bluegrass twist to Lewis' 1968 No. 1 country hit "What Made Milwaukee Famous." And Pretenders singer Chrissie Hynde, perhaps the most left-field performer, acquitted herself well on "Crazy Arms." The oddest moment came last, when, in place of the usual full-cast finale, a doddering Lewis (at 72, he's younger than Clements and Riley, but he's lived hard) was led to the piano and performed "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" while the other performers stood onstage and listened. n

Marcel Khalife

Westlake Performing Arts Center

Sunday, Nov. 11

Marcel Khalife isn't a shy man, either musically or politically. Throughout his career, the Lebanese oud virtuoso has been praised and condemned for his fearless outspokenness and lauded for his brilliant music. In Westlake on Sunday night, both sides of the artist were in full view. The concert started an hour late due to sound difficulties. Just as the crowd waiting outside in the lobby was beginning to get disgruntled, the doors opened. The two-hours-plus that followed were worth the wait. Though the concert was billed as a Khalife show, he was so generous in letting his bandmates take center stage that the evening was really more of an exuberant collaboration. Khalife's playing had a warm flow to it, and his strong tenor voice rang out over it like a bell.

Double bassist Peter Herbert, using an instrument borrowed from a Westlake student, treated the bass like a guitar one minute, a drum the next and a violin the next. Strumming, beating, bowing near the bridge, there wasn't a sound that he didn't get out of this usually ponderous instrument. Pianist Rami Khalife was more than his match in the innovation department. His furious extended solo on "Passport" in the second set was the work of a musical madman. He nearly stole the show from Khalife with a rant that included thumping, plucking inside the piano, pounding with his fists, and executing breathless lyrical runs. Bachar Khalife's percussion work was subtle by comparison, yet sensitive and essential to the drive of the night. Surprise guest percussionist Jamie Haddad helped out on the finale.

Khalife peppered the show with some strong political commentary, aided by an offstage interpreter. He spoke of the band's difficulties getting through airport security, criticized the US for supplying arms to the world, and fiercely maintained that love is better than war. "I have no problems with the American people," he said. "My problem is with American politics." Both sets ended with rousing sing-alongs with the house lights up. The packed house sang the anthemic Arabic pride songs "I Walk" and "O Fishermen, Haila, Haila" with gusto. - Peggy Latkovich

Caribou

Friday, Nov. 9

Grog Shop

Caribou, one Dan Snaith on recordings and now a four-piece on stage, created a wonderfully immersing neo-psychedelic extravaganza with precision musicianship, a trippy video-based, patterned light show, and the strongest songwriting of Snaith's career. Roughly half of the songs were from the delicious new Andorra disc. Other selections from Caribou's two previous albums fit nicely alongside the inviting psychedelic-pop aesthetic of the newest material. The quartet swapped around a stash of guitars and keyboards, even within individual songs, including moments with two drum kits at once - a Caribou live-show trademark. Occasionally, and mostly on the older tunes, the band would also pull out less conventional instruments like a xylophone or melodica (most extensively on "Bijoux"). Overall, though, fewer unusual instruments popped up here than on past Caribou tours.

The more straightforwardly rock-oriented ensemble of guitars/drums/keyboards fattened with a bed of samples was nonetheless adventurous and lush. With a murkier, layered mix and wispier, more buried than on the brighter Andorra recording, the live renditions sometimes took on a slightly more My Bloody Valentine edge.

Born Ruffians, the tour's supporting act, exuded exceptionally vivid personality and unflinching raw energy. The trio's songs were a mish-mash of incongruous, scattered genre fragments (bluegrass, Irish folk, rockabilly, post-Pixies rock, among countless others) that added up to an original if baffling sound. Vocals incorporated tight, three-part harmonies as well as some odd, primal hootin' and hollerin'. The Ruffians' especially maniacal drummer at one point inhumanly fingered keyboard melodies while simultaneously maneuvering the drum kit through some serious rhythms with his other three limbs.

All-girl local band Hot Cha Cha opened with a set of grunge-spawned guitar rock. The group's blonde frontwoman came off like a goofy, low-octane Courtney Love, more drunken silly than drugged-out damaged. The shtick was polarizing, something to find either really funny or painfully irritating. Fortunately, most folks seemed captivated by the set as either a rock 'n' roll trainwreck or weird musical comedy. Hot Cha Cha held it all together by relentlessly pushing 101 percent, plus having their loud/quiet grungey songs strengthened by complex drumbeats and wonky-noise guitars. - Michael David Toth

Chris Cornell

House of Blues

Sunday, Nov. 11

Looking as if he had just woken up from a nap, Chris Cornell took to the sold-out House of Blues stage to roaring applause Sunday night, obviously still revered as one of the remaining voices of the grunge generation. With his curly locks disheveled, and a bit bug-eyed, Cornell appeared road- worn and tired, causing the opening pair of "Let Me Drown" and "Outshined," two Soundgarden staples, to fall flat. But after the initial false start, Cornell quickly warmed up, spending the next two-and-a-half hours taking everyone in attendance on a 20-year retrospective, touching on the best from his solo catalogue, plus Soundgarden, Audioslave and even Temple of the Dog.

Backed by a competent ensemble of touring musicians who adapted easily to the changes in styles, Cornell mixed things up, interspersing Audioslave's "Show Me How to Live" with a cover of "Billie Jean," the latter transformed into a bluesy, quasi-ballad. With his band wise enough not to attempt to recreate Tom Morello or Kim Thayil's solos, the instrumentation did seem somewhat vapid compared to its original form, but whatever gusto was missing from the guitars, bass and drums was overcome by Cornell's unmistakable voice. "Hunger Strike" and "Spoonman" were both performed nearly perfectly, with Cornell rumbling his lyrics with directed potency, although "Spoonman" disappointingly lacked the closing spoon/percussion/vocal jam.

A mini, solo acoustic set that allowed Cornell to unplug from his band and flaunt his dynamic range, featured an excellent cover of Led Zeppelin's "Thank You," plus stripped-down versions of "I Am the Highway" and "Fell on Black Days." But the true treat was saved for the encore. At his band's urging, Cornell dusted off "Superunknown" for the first time in years, even needing a lyric sheet to help him perform his own song. "Black Hole Sun" then turned into a flannel-lined time machine, which gave way to one final 20-plus-minute jam that began with "Slaves and Bulldozers" then segued into parts of "4th of July," the Doors' "The End" and "Whole Lotta Love," all while Cornell held court with the vigor of an accomplished rock veteran. - Aaron Mendelsohn