Eddie Bo has syncopation in his bones. He's an old-fashioned, house-rocking New Orleans pianist, which means he's a one-man orchestra. His left hand trundles out steady-rolling bass lines, meshed with chords or splashed with barrelhouse triplets from his right; he stamps his feet in one more layer of rhythm. At Tramps Cafe, the new, white-walled restaurant that replaced Tramps' rock annex, he also had the audience clapping along.

Mr. Bo is less florid and more percussive than Dr. John, more assertive than Allen Toussaint. His voice is a hearty moan, grainy and lived-in and vigorous, holding the sly satisfaction of rhythm-and-blues, the pain of the blues and the implacable, neo-African inflections of Mardi Gras Indian chants. And his repertory includes both hits and non-hits from the trove of New Orleans rock, including songs as familiar as "Land of 1,000 Dances" and "Iko Iko" and as obscure as "Check Mr. Popeye."

Most of Mr. Bo's early set on Tuesday night was party music, full of appreciative carnality; in an extended version of "Blueberry Hill," he cackled, "Sometimes she likes to be tickled a little bit," as he played a twinkling high filigree. But in songs about love gone bad, like "Since I Fell for You," he lingered over lines like "What can I do?," his voice the sound of pure despondency as it rose in a perfectly turned melisma.

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