Harper blows kids' minds, and his

Several songs into the set on Mon., Jan. 31 at the Palace, after introducing the members of his band, the man sitting beneath the spotlight in a black t-shirt and jeans concluded softly, "and my name is Ben Harper." The introduction was hardly necessary for the predominantly high school and college crowd that packed the seats and spilled over the theater's balcony, brandishing homemade signs that read, "Thank U, Ben" and yelling out their Harper ballad requests. But Harper's modesty is not without orchestration. In November at the Roseland Ballroom he affected a similar shy sexiness onstage, getting up from his chair only once, as he did on Monday night, to dance to the human beatbox of "Steal My Kisses" before walking offstage.

CAYTE PUSHKAREVA/YH Ben, harping on homeless children gets you nowhere.

Harper looks the part of the soulful, spiritual rocker, the kind of guy who can, and does, get away with lyrics like, "The first time that I saw her/She had white doves in her eyes." He is best when working his charm to weave an intimacy with the audience while strumming earnest love songs. He is worst when at his most loudly self-righteous on tracks like "Homeless Child."

This show was heavy with songs from his fourth LP, Burn to Shine, including its opening track, "Alone," which began the night on a strong note. This latest album is Harper's most involved; he spent more time in the studio than with any of his previous work, incorporating the energetic, tight musicianship of the Innocent Criminals (bassist Juan Nelson, drummer Dean Butterworth and percussionist David Leach).

Yet this broader sound seems to betray Harper's simple musical beginnings when he played the blues in California coffee shops at 16. Perhaps it's no coincidence that this new foray into music more amenable to large venues and airtime has let Harper open for such acts as Marilyn Manson and the Fugees, and tour Italy and Australia. His worldwide sales have hit the two million units mark, which Harper himself can't seem to comprehend fully. (At one point in the night, he asked for the house lights to be brought up so that he could see the audience better to thank us personally for our support. "You guys are so amazing," he said, as if we'd been picking up a new kind of guitar for each song and serenading him).

No one seemed to mind a particularly weak rendition of "Burn One Down," Harper's best-known song and the ultimate pot smoker's anthem, as the audience sparked up in support and sang happily along. However, the music didn't really ignite until forty minutes into the show with "The Woman in You," which beautifully balanced its fuller sound and sparer moments, and highlighted the band's extended groove. This was followed by "Steal My Kisses," which brought a human beat boxer on stage. Anyone who saw the Roots in Woolsey Hall on Fri., Dec. 3. has already heard Scratch, the most talented and creative voice percussionists on the scene. But "Kisses" had a playful energy to it, with the band jamming in a tight circle.

The two encores that followed were almost as long as the show. The che ering audience was succumbing to more Ben Harper charm by believing that he was giving us extra material, when, in fact, the show ended after exactly two hours. The first encore epitomized the night's starker strengths: Harper played three acoustic songs alone onstage under a simple white light, transporting the audience back to the smoky coziness of those coffee shop days. A surprising but beautiful version of the Verve's "The Drugs Don't Work" was followed by "My Beloved One." Harper then played one of his earliest and most moving love songs, "Walk Away," before doing so himself.

The Innocent Criminals were back onstage for the second encore to cap off the night with a spirited jam. "Forever" was followed by the dramatic "Please Bleed," with the stage appropriately bathed in red light. "Burn to Shine" might have been a fitting closer, but the evening offered one final climax: a ripping, energy-soaked homage to Jimi Hendrix's "Manic Depression." If this last number proved Harper's incredible guitar skills and emotive voice, it also underscored the creative chasm between the master and the musician.

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