It all starts with a place called Tipitina's.

Well, actually Tipitina's got its name from a woman in one of Professor Longhair's songs, and Professor Longhair is one of those acclaimed New Orleans blues musicians. On Napoleon Avenue and Tchoupitoulas Street in uptown New Orleans, the joint opened in 1977, and Longhair played there until his death in 1980.

But his presence there is only marked by the many musicians who have graced the club's stages since his time, in the Big Easy's rich musical heritage steeped in jazz, brass and the Delta blues.

Then a bitch named Katrina walks in.

The hurricane that struck the Gulf Coast in 2005 not only left the once-throbbing city in a death march to a third world country, economically crippling New Orleans and stunting its morale, but it displaced more than half a million people during its peak. Some returned, and some didn't.

Many of these were the very musicians responsible for the pounding heartbeat in New Orleans' underbelly that made the city surge. And that, ironically, put them on the road seeking national attention.

Which comes back to Tipitina's, and why some of the most well recognized musicians from New Orleans - ever - were at Belly Up on Wednesday night.

"You haven't been to a New Orleans party?" someone asks.

It's not hard to imagine what one might entail, as nine-foot feathered creatures parade through the club, with hallowed skulls on their face and a stomping movement that almost resembles a tribal dance.

Onstage, the Soul Rebels Brass Band are wowing the crowd and sampling what the rest of the night has in store. There are nine of them, playing everything from tubas and trumpets to saxophones and horns (and trying not to hit one of the Wild Tchoupitoulas Mardi Gras Indians who is loitering stage left). A little of Bob Marley's "Could You Be Loved" kicks in, and then there's an Asian guy playing the electric guitar. Because, why not?

It's a revolving door of musical acts, and that's what the New Orleans Traveling Band is all about.

In its fifth year, the Tipitina's Foundation is aimed at keeping the famed nightclub alive, and taking the Bayou beat on a national level. Plus, they bring music to the schools, specifically in their town, so that the musicians of tomorrow realize they have that opportunity today.

And this is what kind of talent comes out of New Orleans, or at least gathers for its benefit: At one point onstage are jazz pianist Henry Butler (who relocated to Denver after Katrina), guitarist Tab Benoit (in some sort of psychedelic '70s shirt), Cyril Neville (of Neville Brothers fame) and John Oates (as in Hall and Oates).

It's a group that doesn't normally play together, but somehow the mash of instruments works. People danced, and jams unfolded.

As if that wasn't enough, three original members of The Meters - Leo Nocenentelli, George Porter Jr. and Joseph "Ziggaboo" Modeliste - reunited for a rare appearance together.

A musically inclined crowd, there to appreciate the finer things in Louisiana life, knew exactly who was who and when they were onstage. Like the community that exists back in New Orleans, members who played earlier in the night took a seat to be enveloped in the magic unfolding up front.

(Some Widespread Panic fans were in attendance, in hopes of seeing John "JoJo" Herman, the band's keyboardist, who climbed onstage with the Meters late in the evening. One of these, who will be attending his 37th WSP show during Jazz Aspen Snomwass' Labor Day festival, said his wife and 6-month old were resting at the Hotel Jerome. She has been to more than 450 Panic shows, and apparently they're planning on raising the little guy in the same way. But, the SpreadHead phenomenon is an entirely separate tangent.)

So the entire circus of a night was a way of letting people know that creativity still flows in the southern city which was once famous for it, spreading the New Orleans gospel throughout the country. The group plays in Jackson Hole, Wyo., on Friday, Aug. 29, benefiting the same foundation.

While the goal is to "preserve the music of New Orleans," it should also be showcasing the same richness. Because, if a New Orleans party was anything like the jivin', hoe-down-dancing-of-a-good time that took place in Belly Up recently, the rest of the country could use some of the same toe-tappin' in their lives.

For more information, visit tipitinasfoundation.org.