It's an often-seen case: A talented musician comes in demand, and begins to tour, and tour. As time goes by, the repertoire becomes more established, and the same material gets retreaded, often going stale. Once-memorable lyrics and riffs begin to lose something from the abusive, exploitative repetition.

Musical genius, however, continuously finds new layers and manages to repeatedly bring freshness to performances, which grow ever richer. Great chefs know time itself can be a critical ingredient -- certain spices and seasonings, given the chance, find their way to unexpected medleys and powerful sensations.

One such master is Ray Charles, who is currently on a breakneck tour of Japan through Dec. 23.

Performing this past Saturday at Kanagawa Kenmin Hall in Yokohama, the Ray Charles Orchestra initially warmed up the audience with a jazz number featuring an alto saxophone solo. The second song began with no sign of Mr. Charles. A giant bearded man (Jerry Garcia's brother in a tux?) brought a trumpet solo to the front, followed by a tenor sax solo and an inspired trombone solo.

On the third song, a young guy lugged a baritone saxophone almost as big as he was to the front for a solo. My date was starting to drift, so I pointed out to her that the Garcia-type was in the back row shaking what appeared, through my binoculars, to be a banana. We philistines are easily driven to distraction.

After all, we hadn't come just to hear great music (make no mistake, these are professional musicians in their prime). By the end of the orchestra's fourth number sans Ray, the audience's applause had grown perfunctory and curt. Where was the celebrity personality we'd paid 7,000 yen to 8,000 yen to see?

After 30 minutes of the orchestra, he finally appeared to affirm his billing as "the legendary genius of soul."

He was led to his keyboard, clapping his thigh. At 69 years old, he's bursting with energy. With a few finger-plunks on the keyboard, he was fully oriented. Blind since age 7, the man was ready to tickle, hammer, wail, clap and nearly fall off his stool without ever losing his place.

After a fast number he settled into "Georgia on My Mind," his well-loved tribute to the state of his birth. You could hear the blues going deeper, as he graciously led the audience on a tour of this musical territory so familiar to him.

Of course, the audience cheered at the intro to "Ellie, My Love," a song by Japan's own Southern All Stars that Charles famously covered. On the next number he got the audience clapping along, doing his best to draw out a typically restrained Japanese audience. (There was, however, some welcome whooping, whistling and carrying on from a group of gaijin in the peanut gallery.)

The third stars of the night were then introduced, the Raelettes, a quintet of women with voices powerful enough to stand up to Charles'. A two-song role-playing sequence, with Charles acting the part of the ne'er-do-well husband coming home to his fed-up wife, ended comically with "Hit the Road, Jack." Against the Raelettes' cool refrain, "And don't you come back no more," Charles harrumphed, pleaded and haggled: "I dare you to say that once more . . . Aw, baby, come on now . . . Are you jiving me?!"

The show climaxed with "What'd I Say," as Charles went to work on his keyboard ferociously while the stage and light show kicked into high gear. Charles' slightly pigeon-toed feet stomped beneath the keyboard in time, and he bounced off his stool like a Ritalin-deprived 11-year-old. Witnessing the irrepressible exuberance, an elderly gentleman behind me had to giggle despite himself.

The disco ball lowered during a rendition of "The Christmas Song" was an unfortunate distraction, and a couple times the keyboard went a little too synthy for my taste, but little else could mar the reputation of this living legend. Although his onstage time came to just over an hour, the show is a bargain considering the energy packed into the set.

In his autobiography, Charles writes, "I was born with music inside me . . . like my blood. It was a force already with me when I arrived on the scene." Seeing a performance by this seasoned musician who taught himself piano at age 3, it is easy to believe that. While his is one heck of a performance, it's no act.