Imagine watching Glenn Gould in concert, performing Bach's "Goldberg Variations." But instead of a straight A-Z recitation, the artist paused, every three or four of the 32 pieces, to tell a potty joke or share an amusing personal experience anecdote about a contemporary like Van Cliburn or Sviatoslav Richter.

Weird, right? But also ... really cool.

A similar scenario took place Saturday in New London's Garde Arts Center at a solo concert by Rick Wakeman, the virtuoso keyboardist most associated with the progressive rock group Yes and dozens of adventurous solo albums like "The Six Wives of Henry VIII," "Journey to the Centre of the Earth" and "The Myths and Legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table."

Billed as "The Even Grumpier Old Rock Star Tour," a reference to an earlier tour and, originally, Wakeman's two editions of vastly entertaining "Grumpy Old Rock Star" memoirs, the format of the evening was that the musician alternated playing elegant and spirited selections from across his career with the sort of mostly ribald but very funny stories that suggest no shortage of locker room humor at the Royal Academy of Music — where he was classically educated.

After short "welcome back to indoor musical concert" introductions by Garde executive director Steve Sigel and Brett Elliot, executive director of the Katharine Hepburn Cultural Arts Center — this was the first of several event partnerships between the two organizations — Wakeman took the stage.

Clad in a dark greatcoat, slacks and shirt — at 73, he no longer sports a bright cape or waist-length hair — Wakeman strode center stage and set the tone for the 100-minute presentation. He thanked a crowd of about 500 for attending and said how wonderful it was to be able to play music for a live audience again.

Then he indicated an angled grand piano to his right and a stack of two synthesizers on his left. He explained that, in addition to the different sonic possibilities offered, he'd have to walk back and forth between the separate set-ups, which would provide what his doctor described as "much-needed exercise."

And we were off.

At the synth rig, he played "Sea Horses," a rarely visited track from his 1979 "Rhapsodies" album. The tune came about, he said, after he saw a homemade film of sea horses made by a Navy SEAL. As an indication of the concert's evocative quality, the music indeed conjured a sort of minor-key, underwater carousel quality that was as playful as it was lovely.

Next up was a gorgeous and expansive exploration of "Morning Has Broken," a hymn originally recorded by Cat Stevens in a session wherein the only other two people present were Wakeman and producer Paul Samwell-Smith. Wakeman's account of the occasion, in which he had a very significant role in turning a sketch of an idea into what became a No. 1 single, was a multiple-punchline tale concluding with the fact that, after several decades, he was finally paid the roughly $12 session fee for his work.

There'd be no way in good conscience Wakeman could — or would want to — ignore his time with Yes, during which the band released groundbreaking albums like "Fragile" and "Close to the Edge." His trilogy from that time — "The Meeting," "And You and I" and "Wondrous Stories" — was almost gasp-inducing in its beauty. Wakeman recreated indelible vocal melodies as well bafflingly complex instrumental jigsaw sections created by fellow Yessers Jon Anderson, Chris Squire, Steve Howe, Bill Bruford and Alan White. He used his classical chops to expand the material's already vast boundaries, and at the same time laid bare the creative blueprints at the core.

In similar fashion, Wakeman revisited "Six Wives," first on a piano medley of "Catharine Howard" and "Catharine of Aragon" and later on a church organ-ish "Jane Seymour." The three pieces demonstrated even to this modestly educated observer that, not only does Wakeman possess all sorts of those classical skills described by words such as "staccatissimo" or "legato" or "glissando," he's a gifted composer who's works recall the melodic instincts of Chopin, Schubert or Debussy.

Oh, and yes, the "Six Wives" theme served as an opportunity for Wakeman to make a lot of funny jokes about his own checkered marital history. And while we're talking about humor, Wakeman seems fascinated by literal bathroom humor — but his ability to render such things in the eloquent, obscenity-free fashion of a skilled raconteur managed to charm the whole crowd.

Reflecting on lost friends, Wakeman nuanced friend and mentor David Bowie's "Space Oddity" and "Life On Mars," both of which are tunes the keyboardist recorded for the original album. And in the stunning closer for the main set, Wakeman acknowledged pals Keith Emerson of ELP and Jon Lord of Deep Purple. He then delighted and amazed with a sort of musician's parlor trick: a version of "Help!" played in the fashion of Camille Saint-Saëns followed by "Eleanor Rigby" as Prokoviev might have delivered. "Wow," Glenn Gould might have said.

"My hands ache," Wakeman admitted with a grin at the close of the night. Completely understandable. Out in the crowd, our sides ached. It was perhaps an unlikely combination — beautifully realized by a genuine renaissance man.