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The Greek Theatre overflowed with peace, love and understanding--not to mention romantic vibes--on Tuesday, as Seal examined the mystery, the agony and the ecstasy of humanity in a 90-minute

set that celebrated the universal power of love. This sort of lofty sentiment might easily have pitched over into self-aggrandizing excess, but Seal managed to make it all seem surprisingly

sensible.

Dressed in black, his shaved head gleaming, the singer-songwriter at times literally glowed in a blue spotlight, appearing as a ghostly yet corporeal apparition that reflected his

dramatically soulful singing, at once ethereal and well-grounded. His six-member backing group, occasionally aided by Seal on guitar, wove a lush tapestry of sweeping ballads and sensual

dance tunes drawn from his 1998 album, “Human Being,” and earlier works.

Some of the better material offered food for thought along with gentle grooves and driving beats, focusing on a more brotherly type of love, as in the equality-minded “Colour” and the

shimmering “Human Beings,” with its plaintive refrain, “We’re mere human beings/We die.” Yet such older hits as the party-minded “Crazy” and the Grammy-winning lover’s ballad “Kiss From a

Rose” lost nothing by dwelling purely in the realm of romance.

The Englishman assumed the role of mystic love poet with a low-key charisma that proved charming enough to keep his stance from seeming either pretentious or ridiculous. His soothing,

earnest voice had a hypnotic warmth that drew in the listener, while his lyrical thoughtfulness in such musically slight numbers as the older ballad “Dreaming in Metaphors” helped temper

those weaknesses. It was pleasant enough to just sit under the stars and drift away on the tendrils of reflection he provided as he pulled the threads of sorrow and bliss through the

performance’s gossamer fabric.

Though Seal’s music wasn’t as funky or energetic as Prince’s, and in fact didn’t much resemble the Artist’s work at all, he did recall the Purple One in his uniqueness. If not as eccentric

or gifted, Seal is a singer-songwriter with his own vision, not just another pretty face like so many romantically inclined pop vocalists. Also, his songs draw influences from a broad range

of genres, confidently incorporating soul, rock, folk, world music and bits of techno into a singular sound that’s nevertheless hard to classify as anything but pop.

Second-billed Joan Jones didn’t much resemble Seal in either stage presence or sound, but her chiming blend of folk, rock, blues and pop accurately set the emotional mood. The L.A. native

has gained some attention with her melancholy ballad “Everyday Down,” from the TV show “Felicity,” but her music proved more compelling than that of such television-made divas as Vonda

Shepard. Drawn mostly from her solo debut album, “Starlite Criminal,” the 40-minute set suggested kinships with artists ranging from Neil Young to Rickie Lee Jones to Sheryl Crow, while

revealing charms that Jones’ overproduced recording nearly obscure.

Not every song was memorable, but all of the material sounded livelier and more distinctive in the stripped-down yet surprisingly rich forms the singer-songwriter and her two bandmates

presented in concert. Jones’ voice, too often shrill and bland on the album, came to warm, intimate life on stage, infusing such wryly pragmatic stunners as “Forgetful” with a winning

honesty and love for her craft.