A beach ball is passed through the overflowing crowd in the Tabernacle, but the symbolic gesture is only the beginning of the connection Ben Folds is about to inspire in the audience. The grand piano is wheeled out. Folds pushes his fat-rimmed glasses up a bit on his nose, and the crowd falls under his spell.

For just a few hours Tuesday at the Tabernacle, an eclectic and far-ranging mixture of people from Atlanta were united by one purpose: to share an evening with a goofy piano star as he banged out their favorite melodic songs.

Appealing to youngsters as well as hipsters, Folds' energetic live shows yield oh-so-pleasant results, featuring everything from Dr. Dre lyrics to Gershwin licks to his fascinating metaphorical revenge of the geeks. Folds is a Weezer-esque piano-rocker with the raw talent of Ray Charles and the fuddy-duddy attitude of Schroeder from Peanuts.

Emerging as an outcast from childhood, he now ferociously attacks the piano with the seeming message of "Sticks and stones may break my bones- but I sure can play piano better than you."

Folds entertained a widely varied audience. In one single section of the crowd there was a father escorting a daughter, a 20-something couple holding hands, a group of mellow indie kids, and a mom chaperoning three young fans.

The set list for the show was a quintessential representation of the pianist's best works.

While Folds is not a glorious vocalist, his voice resounded with an honesty that transcended his limitations.

Treating the crowd as a big group of friends, he explained the string he busted in the first song: The note he broke was not even present in the key he was playing, and therefore he was obviously screwing up a little. The humble Folds admitted, to roaring laughter from the crowd, "Loud and proud, long and strong..."

And then the musical mastermind shouted, "E-flat!" and kept the show going.

He straddled the piano stool in a hard-to-fathom stance so as to best bang out muscular, high-energy songs spanning many moods and topics.

For instance, he presented a Never Never Land-ish attitude in the efficacious "We're Still Fighting It," then oozed confidence on the insightful, reflective "There's Always Someone Cooler Than You." Here, Folds revealed his discovery of the minute actuality of human beings in the universe - nobody is the top dog for long.

Then midshow, the pianist swiveled around and planted both feet on the ground to give the crowd an intimate taste of his underlying melancholy.

Although the experience was hardly wide-ranging, the audience managed to empathize with Folds' ballad "Brick," a commemoration of the painful experience of taking his high school girlfriend to get an abortion. In broaching a subject not easy to speak of, he created a cathartic expression of a bruise on his life that could never fade. The crowd melted as it sang the words engrained in their minds: "She's a brick, and I'm drowning slowly."

Beyond the vibrant "Rocking the Suburbs," Folds conducted the audience, which he knighted "The Tabernacle Choir," dividing them into three-part harmonies and asking everyone to participate.

"OK, all of you guys are the trumpets, and you guys over here, the saxophones," he said.

Once assigned a role, it was impossible to refuse indulgence in such sweet, intoxicating melodies. Shortly after instructions were doled out, the venue came alive with the harmonizing of hundreds of voices. Folds leapt atop the piano to conduct the audience, making everyone feel connected to the musical experience.

Ultimately, Folds knows how to entertain. With a twinkle in his eyes, he ruptured the boundaries of piano playing and unpacked melodic garage punk. Those lucky enough to attend Tuesday's show walked away feeling that they'd had an enduring musical phenomenon in their midst.