On Aug. 12, 2001, Tabla Beat Science, a multinational collective of forward-thinking musicians founded by the tabla player Zakir Hussein and the bass player and producer Bill Laswell, played a free show in the Stern Grove section of San Francisco's Golden Gate Park. For many of the 12,000 people who attended, the experience had the same mind-blowing effect as the park's other legendary concerts by, say, The Grateful Dead or Santana. To be sure, a live recording cannot replace the camaraderie of thousands of awed listeners, the fragrance and shade of Stern Grove's eucalyptus trees or the crisp, mild air of San Francisco. "Live in San Francisco" does, however, capture the incredible music created on that day.

In addition to Hussein and Laswell, Tabla Beat Science features Indian sarangi (bowed stringed instrument) master Ustad Sultan Khan, Ethiopian-born singer Gigi Shibabaw, Brooklyn-based drummer Karsh Kale, Bay Area turntablist DJ Disc and Delhi-based DJ/production duo Midival Punditz. In lesser hands, such a mixture of genres, generations and textures would be a pretentious mess. As it is, "Live in San Francisco" is full and warm, clean and simple, integrated at the molecular level and instinctive rather than intellectual. While in Japan this April, Laswell said of the event: "It was one of those things where everything worked. It was one of those shows where you know it's right the whole time."

"Taaruf," a duet between Sultan Khan and Zakir Hussein, ignites the show. The piece grounds listeners in the Indian traditions of melody and improvisation on which much of the day's music was based. Sixteen minutes later, Laswell's molten bass wells up from the earth's core, drummer Kale drops in and the band kicks off "Sacred Channel," a tune that musically is centuries away from "Taaruf," and yet the transition is so natural it feels inevitable. Hussein in particular navigates the change with ease. Commenting appreciatively on his playing, Laswell said, "Zakir was showing off -- it was tremendous, incredible shit."

On virtually every tune on this double album, the band casually inhabits -- or creates -- a different genre of music. On "Nafeken," Gigi sings passionately in Amharic, the national language of Ethiopia, while Sultan Khan intones behind her in his own language. Driving the tune mercilessly, the band is a blur of percussion and an alternately looping and atmospheric bass. Following that, "Ap Ke Baras" is a morphing trance-like ball of energy, again propelled by the three-man rhythm section acting as one. For "Magnetic Dub," which is charged with Sultan Khan's most inspired singing of the day, the band ecstatically vibrates at their own frequencies while moving in a shared direction, firmly grounded by a dubbed-out bass line until that, too, detaches and, with the rest of the band, reaches further and further.

And that's just the first set.