Stones Throw’s latest tour seems geared to disavow the common perception that it’s strictly a hiphop label. Note: Stones Throw also dabbles in comedy (and funk, of course). Last night’s show was a gut-busting case in point.

I arrived during Dam-Funk’s set, which wasn’t comedy, per se, but it had funny moments. As one of today’s foremost early-’80s funk connoisseurs, D-F can school anyone with regard to that era’s hottest dance cuts that occupy a subgenre called “boogie.” This he did, as he would often announce the artist, track title, and even the year and label on which the track appeared before he brought it in. You gotta respect such magnanimous gestures.

He dropped Midnight Express’ “Danger Zone,” something by George Clinton from 1980 on Capitol Records (what, no catalog number? Tease!) that sounded like a cross between “Not Just Knee Deep” and “Atomic Dog” (in other words, amazing), and some of his own productions. D-F grabbed the mic often, serving as his own hype man and increasing the positive vibes in a venue whose crowd of 150-200 (competition was fierce for entertainment dollars last night) seemed oddly desultory. Of course, the all-ages setup that restricted alcohol drinkers to the back of the club diminished the activity on the dance floor and resulted in less-than-ideal energy levels for the performers. Nevertheless, D-F’s selections offered a seminar in songs that reveled in the era when funk flirted with disco, had some torrid sexual encounters, and then birthed some winning, mixed-genre brainchildren. His set had the gleam of musical evangelism about it.

Next up, James Pants and the Royal Zodiac Band (three-fourths of whom were wearing shades) peddled an over-the-top brand of prog-rock-tinged funk. Their chops were absurdly florid (keyboards redolent of ELP; drumming as busy, powerful, and intricate as Ginger Baker’s) and frontman Pants exhorted “Seattle’s party people” to get into the spirit of things with an Andy Kaufman-esque intensity.

Was Pants serious or was he parodying traditional showbiz performers’ insistent desire to MAKE YOU HAVE THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE, NO MATTER WHAT? I tended to believe the latter, especially after he announced, with Jesse Jackson-like fervor, “We’re going to make you feel good, then we’re going to make you feel bad and creepy for a minute, then we’re going to make you feel good again.” But dude had me confused for most of his set, so kudos to James Pants for creating such compelling ambiguity—and for being such a badass cowbell player. Super-sincere and weirdly off covers of Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit” and the Doors’ “Touch Me” added layers of ridiculousness to an already absurd display of performance-arty funkitude.

The Royal Zodiac Band stayed onstage for vocalist Mayer Hawthorne, a suit-and-tied white nerd out of Hollywood Central Casting. But the Ann Arbor, Michigan, singer stunned with convincing Eddie Kendricks/Smokey Robinson loverman crooning. His sincerity initially seemed faux, too, but ultimately Hawthorne came across as a likable throwback entertainer with genuine songwriting and vocal skills. His single, "Just Ain't Gonna Work Out," on heart-shaped vinyl will probably sell for big money on eBay in a decade.

Stones Throw honcho and headliner Peanut Butter Wolf flexed his video-enhanced DJ skills again, which tends to stunt dancing and increase screen gawking, especially when track selections lean toward the nostalgia-inducing, which often leads to pointing and laughing at the awful fashions and hairstyles on display.

PBW opened with footage of a Michael Jackson concert in Bucharest: there was no music, just the crowd hysteria of his grandiose appearance onstage. From that odd foundation, PBW moved into some mid-’70s Frank Zappa (ballsy!), then Barrington Levy, Guilty Simpson, Nas, M.O.P., and a stream of classic rap (Eric B. & Rakim, ODB, Tribe, De La Soul, Cypress Hill, Oh No… and Kriss Kross—PBW defensively defended the youthful duo).

PBW transitioned into some Cameo, Ry-Ry, the Time, and Earth Wind & Fire. By this point, I needed a change of scenery, so I headed to the Electric Tea Garden and caught New York’s Big Bully spinning an awesome set of weird, hard techno on the [a]pendics.shuffle/Bruno Pronsato/Onur Ozer tip, while keeping the floor moving. Big Bully made me wish more techno DJs would explore this strange, experimental vein.