For almost 40 years, a debate has raged within the jazz community about the merits of electric instruments. It all started when jazzmen, following the example of Miles Davis, began playing with electrified guitars, basses, and keyboards in order to penetrate the more lucrative pop marketplace. They called their new music “fusion,” since the idea was to fuse jazz’s traditional values (swing, soul, and improvisation) with the electric sound and funky rhythms – not to mention money – of rock ‘n’ roll.

Throughout the 1970s, Davis and a slew of his former sidemen – Herbie Hancock, Chick Corea, Wayne Shorter, Joe Zawinul – made sure fusion was the only kind of jazz anyone heard about. Most of the great swing and bebop players were still going strong, but they were more or less ignored by the mainstream press. Fans of traditional jazz, myself included, felt alienated: If we wanted to hear all those blankety-blank guitars and synthesizers – and we didn’t – then we would go to a blankety-blank rock concert!

The tide began to turn in the early ’80s, when Wynton Marsalis became jazz’s first new superstar in a generation. He spoke to those of us who distrusted fusion and wished it would disappear. Sure enough, Davis’s erstwhile sidemen, most notably Mr. Shorter, eventually went acoustic again, and fusion withered on the vine. When jazz horns and pop electronics re-fused in the mid-’80s into a marketing genre known as smooth jazz – which derives more from muzak than either acoustic jazz or the old fusion – few jazz fans took it seriously.

Now, however, we’re seeing the emergence of a generation of young jazz musicians who feel the baby got thrown out with the bathwater when the neo-boppers of the ’80s trashed the fusioneers of the ’70s. Among the most prominent is the remarkable bassist and bandleader Christian McBride, 33, whose outstanding new album, “Live at Tonic” (Ropeadope Records), cuts across a large swath of the semi-electric, semi-acoustic contemporary jazz world.

Quoted in a provocative 2005 book, Stuart Nicholson’s “Is Jazz Dead? (Or Has It Moved to a New Address),” Mr. McBride says, “For a time I probably did have that prejudice: bass players should never use amplifiers, fusion is bad, Miles sold out after ‘Bitches Brew.’ But one day I admitted, ‘That’s not how I feel, I love Miles’s later records, I love Weather Report, I love Return to Forever, I love all the MBase records with Steve Coleman.’ So why should I negate that kind of music into my own music?”

Why, indeed. Mr. McBride, who is a co-director of the Jazz Museum in Harlem, is steeped in the history of his instrument and his music. Beginning with his 1998 release, “A Family Affair,” his albums and bands have addressed the issue of how the different sides of the debate – jazz and pop, acoustic and electronic instruments – can best relate to each other.

“Live at Tonic” marks Mr. McBride’s most ambitious attempt to merge jazz and contemporary pop. It’s also ambitious in its length: three CDs (for the list price of roughly one and a half) recorded a year ago over two nights at Tonic, that big concrete bunker down on Norfolk Street that has succeeded the Knitting Factory as ground zero for cutting-edge jazz.

The Christian McBride Band covers a lot of territory. It plays Davis’s “Bitches Brew,” the first fusion composition most people ever heard, and Mr. Zawinul’s “Boogie Woogie Waltz,” which was one of Weather Report’s early signatures. They also play “Mwandishi,” from Mr. McBride’s 2000 studio album, “Science Fiction,” which refers to a 1970 Hancock album, a 1976 Pat Martino tune, and more generally to the Indian modes employed by John McLaughlin and the Mahavishnu Orchestra.

The first disc features the regular working lineup of CMB, including pianist and keyboardist Geoff Keezer, one of the last graduates of Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers; drummer Terreon Gully; and Ron Blake, a marvelous saxophonist who has never caught my attention so vividly before. Mr. McBride impresses from the outset, opening the first set playing arco (with a bow) on a stand-up acoustic bass. The sound of an acoustic bass against electronic keyboards is something that I can’t remember ever having heard.

On the second disc, Mr. McBride brings in the first round of guests. His approach is to start a riff going, establish a key and a beat, and serve as a traffic cop using both his bass and his equally smooth talking style. Mr. McBride’s music here is less melodic than on his previous albums. The tracks are not so much compositions as pure grooves: They are so open and loose that a variety of players can bring a variety of styles and approaches to them.

On the half-hour-long “See Jam, Hear Jam, Feel Jam,” the CMB is joined by guitarist Charlie Hunter, a star of the contemporary sub-genre sometimes referred to as “jazz jam bands” (whose best-known ensembles are Soulive and Medeski Martin & Wood). Next comes Jason Moran, a pianist whose playing sounds like avant-garde jazz and avant-garde classical at the same time – think Erik Satie playing stride or Cecil Taylor doing hip-hop. The last guest in this set is Jenny Scheinman, an equally astute violinist whom I have heard playing pop with Norah Jones, Dixieland with Dan Levinson, and avant-Jewish music with her own groups. Each guest does precisely what he or she wants to on top of Mr. McBride’s groove as the leader brings them on and off, serving as both emcee and accompaniment.This second disc would make a fine release in itself.

This is music that one listens to in a different way from, say, jazz of the 78-rpm era. Enjoying these half-hour jams is all about catching the groove and immersing oneself in the atmosphere. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t moments of strong individual playing on “Live at Tonic.” Among the special guests, Rashaan Peterson, a fine trumpeter hitherto unknown to me, stands out. And Mr. Blake’s playing on at least four horns – tenor, soprano, baritone, and flute – is consistently exciting.

Unlike most musicians of his generation and high skill level, Mr. Blake doesn’t just play a lot of notes. He thinks in terms of interesting, rhythmical things to do with funky riffs, and lays out ideas that move the ensemble forward rather than merely call attention to himself as an improvising soloist.

I must confess that my old prejudice against pop resurfaced when I saw that the third disc co-starred DJ Logic and a beat-boxer named Scratch, most notably on a 33-minute track called “E Jam” that also features Soulive guitarist Eric Krasno. As it turns out, this is accessible music, even for an old-schooler like me. The sounds Scratch makes remind me a tap dancer or a drum soloist with a very simple kit; while listening to the album, I kept closing my eyes and seeing Savion Glover. In a way, beat-boxing is not all that different from scatting.

I, for one, would still rather listen to Dianne Reeves scatting than Scratch beat-boxing. Perhaps that’s just my old bias showing through once again. But this album, more than any other in recent years, made me realize how good fusion can be. Except for the fact that these days the term “fusion” itself is, well, out of date. Word.