Cecil Taylor erupted Saturday night at the Maine Center for the Arts. Although he began nearly half an hour late because of travel delays, he brought a volcano of unforgettable sounds and a performance that left many audience members stirred beyond their expectations.

The first piece, which lasted an hour, began offstage with a series of otherworldly chants, grunts, incantations and poetry spoken by Taylor. Soon his percussionist appeared and began tapping chimes and ringing bells. The bassist walked onto the stage playing a small wind instrument, and within a few moments, Taylor began to emerge from behind the curtain.

Initially, all the audience saw was Taylor’s hand, jutting in and out of sight. Then his leg, then his whole body appeared as he moved in an introductory ritualistic dance in his stocking feet. He made his way to the piano, where he plunged into a thrashing, erotic, anarchistic exclamation of music.

Taylor used his fingers, fists, forearms and elbows to evoke climactic accelerations, ecstatic and frightening scats, and dynamic rhythms that were at once primordial and modern. His hands drilled the keyboard mercilessly and frenetically. Behind Taylor, the bassist kept time, sometimes plucking strings with his fingers, sometimes strumming with his bow. The percussionist tapped triangles, shook bells, banged drums and thwacked at various metal constructions (some of which could have been art pieces merely by appearance, not to mention sound).

The audience froze for the first 15 minutes of Taylor’s performance, but then began to stir. Many took to their feet and left. Others simply chatted, expressing disbelief, disgust or amusement.

Taylor, however, seemed oblivious to the scuffle in the audience. He continued, hunching over his keys or raising his head and eyebrows while joyously and pitilessly presenting his music. At times, the sounds were so complex, it seemed as if his long, bahti locks, which dangled on his hands, assisted his fingers on the keyboards.

During the 25-minute intermission, nearly half the audience left the concert hall. Those who remained heard another 40 minutes of sustained kinetic expression, odd musical syntax and surprising romanticism. Hearty applause earned the audience two encores. The first was a five-minute mood piece of lyrical piano and bass music supported by tender chimes and bells. The second, only three minutes long, was humorous and playful.

Taylor is notably a performer who disallows complacency. His pumping, unbridled metamusic is anything but comforting, and it is not surprising that many would find his compositions and improvisations troubling, disturbing or indecipherable. His relentless and renowned individualism as a composer and musician, however, has won Taylor international respect, and although many listeners at Saturday night’s concert could not hear his muse, others knew they were in the presence of a master, and treated him accordingly.