Bonnie Raitt & the Bump Band in concert with the John Hall Band at the Orpheum

Never accuse Bonnie Raitt of leaving a job undone. She marched into town determined to rock and roll, and she didn’t dally in making her point.

After plowing through one particularly all-out stretch Tuesday night, Raitt put the hammer down further by joking with the crowd: “Are you guys ready for some more, or do you want to hear some Tom Rushsongs?”

There followed the usual leather-lunged remarks from the balcony (“Aaaall right, Bonneeeeee!”), but many fans sat in almost stunned disbelief. This was a new side to Bonnie Raitt, the onetime Cambridge blueswoman, and for the longest time the crowd didn’t appear to know how to react. When it finally did explode with a standing ovation at the end, Raitt seemed relieved, saying that for a while she wasn’t sure if they liked it.

It was, however, a top-shelf performance all the way. Raitt has always had the sass for pure, street-cruising rock ‘n’ roll, and now she’s simply followed through with it. She was a tower of strength as she led her Bump Band on a drag race through pounding, ego-free pop, played with a legitimacy that would embarrass most of her peers.

She started hot, and stayed that way. The searing R&B of “Ain’t That Peculiar” swept into NRBQ’s “Green Lights,” followed soon by Del Shannon’s “Runaway,” a song she used to do near the end of her set, not the beginning. It used to be one of the toughest songs in her repertoire, but this time it seemed like a ballad next to her later entries.

There were plenty of funky hors d’oeuvres to come – in keeping with her love of R&B as well as rock – but even those had a meaty, revved-up focus. “Think” (with the band playing in delirious formation at the front of the stage) and the misery of “Three-Time Loser” (“You got the picture, didn’t you?” Raitt jibed after it) helped stoke the fire for what was to come.

As salty as ever, Raitt enlivened proceedings with her acidic, worldly patter, noting before the change-of-pace country ballad “Darlin’” that “this goes out to all the lovers in the audience. May we get some, and get what we need.” Her heartache-laden version of the song, supported beautifully by her new Texas guitarist, Johnny Lee Schell, made you want to hear her do more country, though this surely wasn’t the night for it.

Tearing on – and at times her pace seemed too fast, which may have also disoriented the crowd – she lit into the Nick Lowe-like “Willy Wontcha.” Schell was playing so hard by this time that he added a Chuck Berry duck walk and ended up on his back on the floor. Less demonstrative, but no less important, were the contributions of Stones pianist Ian McLagan (who had a great honky-tonk feel) and former James Montgomery sax man David Woodford.

The encores entered an unreal stage, capped by Raitt and John Hall coming together for Elvis’ “Hunk o’ Love.” This moment seemed almost as strange as when Hall – another born-again rocker – jumped into the audience and tore through the aisles during his opening set, playing Chuck Berry licks.

Hall and his band, which still includes former Pousette Dart bassist John Troy and the humorous Bob Leinbach (who laughed at his own baldness during “Bald Man”), had gotten the night off with another heavy display of rock. It was of WCOZ decibels at times – only much more skilled than most bands getting ‘COZ airplay – and, like Raitt’s set, left open mouths in its wake.

About The Author

Steve Morse

Globe Staff

Steve Morse was a staff music critic at The Boston Globe for nearly 30 years. He now teaches an online course in rock history at the Berklee College of Music. He also has contributed to Billboard and Rolling Stone.