The choreographer Ronald K. Brown and his company, Evidence, were in fine form Tuesday night, powering their way through a program of three invigorating dances, one of them a New York premiere. The evening’s theme was spiritual journeys, undertaken by eager bodies blazing with energy.

Mr. Brown’s singular blend of West African, hip-hop, and modern dance connects with audiences in a very different way than most concert dance. He has reclaimed for the concert stage some of the joy that people take in dancing to the stereo in their living rooms. His dancers step on the downbeats of pop tunes and flex their elbows in cool club moves, and somehow that makes them feel unpretentious and real. Crowds feel connected to these dancers. When the volume of the music dips, shouts ring out from the house, egging them on.

Make no mistake, however. Though Mr. Brown’s choreography is sprinkled with dance moves from ordinary life, its meat-and-potatoes movement requires explosive talent and superior stamina. From West African dance, Mr. Brown borrows rhythmic stomping and loose-jointed, free-flapping arms. The look is one of dazzling, expansive freedom, but that freedom requires serious muscle control.

The dancers of Evidence come in all shapes and sizes, from the short, dynamic Arcell Cabuag to the astonishingly limber Juel Lane, whose enormous wingspan and long limbs create gloriously floppy shapes. But all wear Mr. Brown’s distinctive movement with consummate grace.

Near the end of “Order My Steps” (2005), the first dance on the program, four dancers came out, one by one, for a series of solos, and each was a little jewel of personality, fiercely executed by its proud owner. These dancers are clearly the authors of their own movement; they perform with the casual air of people with mastery over their own bodies.

“Order My Steps,” a piece about a man struggling for redemption, established the rhythm of the evening — a mix-tape-like collage of music, with big, communal numbers alternating with solos. Each section tended toward the same energy level: full throttle.

Switching up the dynamics is not Mr. Brown’s forte — his music edits can often feel abrupt, chosen more for the meaning of the lyrics than for harmonious musical composition. As a choreographer, he has trouble scaling back: Even when he works with a slow ballad, he often winds up covering huge swaths of stage, instinctively trying to keep the surface busy, the frame full.

Consequently, a full program of his dances can feel repetitive. Sections sometimes go on too long, causing them to lose steam despite the nonstop, vigorous dancing.

Yet Mr. Brown’s dances are so fundamentally interesting and lively that one can also enjoy them the way one enjoys a favorite radio station — appreciating the flow more than the component parts.

That turns out to be the best way to approach “Truth Don Die,” Mr. Brown’s latest work, which takes its title from an infectious, feel-good groove by the Nigerian Afro-beat artist Femi Kuti. An opening solo found the compact Tiffany Jackson alone onstage in a loose-fitting gray tunic and pants. Her movements were lyrical yet powerful: a series of speeding turns with elaborate arm positions, a sequence of twisting, angling leaps. Often, she paused to look the audience in the eye — alert, frank, questioning.

At the top of the second section’s gospel track, a recorded voice intoned, “Sometimes, when you’ve been called to have a relationship with God, it just don’t feel good.” As the dance got under way, a group of dancers repeatedly stepped forward and stumbled back — an obvious metaphor, perhaps, but an effective one, given the surrounding thicket of other tense, effort-filled movements. By the end of the section, the group’s members lifted hands and walked off, presumably right with God.

Ms. Jackson returned for a second solo, but this one proved a bit thin, with the hard-working dancer trapped in shadowy upstage spots for much of the song. But this misstep was redeemed by a final, ebullient section, set to Mr. Kuti’s “Truth Don Die.”

To kick off the piece’s long final jam, Mr. Cabuag came onstage like a house afire. The others followed, surging forward with rolling shoulders and stamping feet borrowed from Senegalese traditional dance. They worked their arms with sweaty pleasure, and matched the irresistible rhythms with shifts of their fluid hips. A dance party assembled from individual radiant parts. This section represented Mr. Brown’s work at its best.

“Grace,” a 1999 piece created originally for Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, closed the program. Though Mr. Brown pared the piece down for eight dancers for his smaller company, the stage felt more than full. As is often the case with Mr. Brown’s work, symbolism (red and white costumes) and overtly religious lyrics took a back seat to the exhilarating dancing — explosive jumps with knees pulled up to the chest, flat palms stretched out at hip level and fluttering just so, and a poignant final image of three pairs embracing. Mr. Brown may not always efficiently harness his choreography to his themes, but this is still exciting, deeply satisfying dancing.

Until February 4 (175 Eighth Ave. at 19th Street, 212-242-0800).