Saxophonist Charles Lloyd has long been a favorite of critics and fans alike for his ever-evolving approach to jazz, which led to the million-selling Forest Flower album in 1966 and a recent string of intensely personal records for ECM. Zakir Hussain is widely regarded as the greatest tabla virtuoso of his generation, and a man who is always ready to explore uncharted musical territory. Together, they made magic at Grace Cathedral. Their triumphant extended set awed a capacity audience while paying tribute to another master of the craft, the late drummer Billy Higgins.

Grace Cathedral at night seemed vast and imposing, a forest of great stone columns thrusting upwards into a murky half-light, then branching out into a delicate lattice of vaults and beams. Underneath, a profound feeling of calm settled in despite the huge crowd. As votive candles bathed a far corner in a wash of serene blue, the chilly walls bounced audience chatter back and forth until it blended into white noise, like a babbling brook. People were crammed into every possible space — the pews, the choir, and the transept — effectively surrounding the stage, a four-foot high platform sitting in front of the sanctuary.

Lloyd began the concert from a balcony in the rear of the church, sounding a distant muezzin's call to prayer that reverberated until it seemed to come from somewhere inside the listener. Hussain answered with a quiet vocal from the opposite end of the building, and then slowly ascended the platform. Taking up a Brazilian berimbau and a rattle, Hussain played a remarkable solo that spoke of wind and void. The otherworldly dreamtime twang of the berimbau enveloped and centered the audience for some minutes before Lloyd made his formal entrance.

Moving slowly through the audience as he played, Lloyd looked like a priest in a long black cassock and a knit cap. As Lloyd approached, Hussain moved at last to an array of five tabla drums with various other percussion scattered about, and the show had begun in earnest.

The seated duo played four pieces without a pause. All were in a similar vein, demonstrating the power of careful interplay. Their music gradually arose from nothing, with the complex Lloyd interspersing meditative moans in his flurries of notes, and Hussain's organic beats changing mood and tempo in an instant to match the shifting tone. Lloyd was a joy to watch. He twisted and swayed as he worked, holding his horn at an odd sidewise angle. And when Hussain soloed, Lloyd listened intently, with his eyes shut tight and a joyous grin on his face as he got his whole body inside the beat. This pair had a great time working together.

The first portion of the set peaked when Lloyd shifted from tenor sax to flute. Beginning with a soulful flutter, he led the way into a sort of Zen-funk improvisation, an ecstatic peaceful groove. Hussain's solo on this piece was his best of the night. Matching a ferociously hyperactive rhythm to the natural echo of the church, he created a sort of rhythmic feedback loop. The effect was overwhelming and breathtaking.

The tribute to Higgins came in the form of an extended work, commissioned by the festival. Lloyd's charming introduction of the piece rambled for several minutes, but laid bare his passion for the music and for his friends. Lloyd spoke of his deep appreciation for Higgins' artistry and character, and said of his tribute, " I didn't really write anything, I just begged the Creator to give it to me."

Lloyd's prayers were answered. He crafted a deeply eloquent piece in four parts that evoked Higgins memory, and felt like a memory itself. It grew out of a simple motif, but a thousand elusive details spun around that axis, popping up and slipping away like a jumble of fragmentary recollections. Playing alto sax in public for the first time in decades, Lloyd darted from concept to concept, balancing on the emotions of his lifetime kinship with Higgins. On tenor, Lloyd brought an earthier tone to his theme, adding a touch of soul as Hussain carried him on an impressive rhythmic wave.

To end the piece, Lloyd produced an exotic-looking middle-eastern reed. Hussain strapped on a pair of drums, and the pair took a walk through the audience. As the nasal blast of Lloyd's horn slowly grew in intensity, Hussain shed one of his drums and focused all his attention on one sound, leaving the other in the lap of an audience member. When the artists finally returned to the stage and let the tribute fade, they earned an immediate and lengthy standing ovation.