It was diamonds, black ties, high heels and glittering smiles for the 10th anniversary gala Saturday at the Maine Center for the Arts. Patrons schmoozed over cocktails and dinner early in the evening and then gathered with other concert-goers in the auditorium to hear performances by singer Nancy Wilson and by the Preservation Hall Jazz Band.

The mood was high when Wilson came out in a red, crushed velvet, backless gown with her eyes twinkling and her torso already moving to the sexy beat of her sparkling backup trio — Llew Matthews on piano, John B. Williams on bass, and Roy McCurdy on drums. But the excitement Wilson generated meowing “Never let me go … Love me much too much” was blunted when the sound system began to crackle, buzz and baffle.

Hard as the able technicians at the Maine Center worked, they could not completely correct the sound problems, which were the result of unexpected changes in technical requirements earlier in the evening, they said. As a result, Wilson’s concert, which lasted just under an hour, left the audience a bit frustrated and wanting another shot at hearing the legendary voice do its wild witchery. It was nearly teasing to hear Wilson sing “It Don’t Mean a Thing If It Ain’t Got That Swing” — and “Guess Who I Saw Today” (with a snippet from “Miss Otis Regrets”) and “People Will Say We’re in Love” and “All of Me” — without really being able to latch on to the grand wooziness of her voice.

Onstage, Wilson handled the predicament with grace and good spirits, scatting along with expertise and glory. And the audience received her with remarkable warmth. But when she came out of her dressing room in a smart-looking blue suit, she looked concerned and a little flustered. It was her first visit to Maine, and she said she thought she’d have to find her way back because the audience was loving and convivial in spite of the sound system conundrum.

Any grudges that might have gathered on shoulders during the first half were kicked squarely off when the Preservation Hall Jazz Band arrived in a wave of jollity. There was no scowling allowed — or even possible — when these friendly fellows wooed listeners right into the spirit of a Bourbon Street parade.

In short, the New Orleans jazz got everyone back into a good mood. And when Mr. Narvin Henry Kimball, born March 2, 1909, played his banjo and sang a solo of “Georgia on My Mind,” it was just as sweet and clear as moonlight through the pines. And all was pretty again.

Whether the songs were traditional (“St. Louis Blues”) or surprising (“Lara’s Theme”), the music was a celebration — really just for the sake of celebrating. Laid-back and blithe, these guys know how to have a good time and are irrepressible when they start heading in that direction. Ed Frank, whose left arm is paralyzed, was a marvel using only one hand to play frolicking rag music at the upright piano. Ben Jaffe, the youngest member of the group, gave new meaning to the words “walking bass line.” He did it for sure with his jaunty fingers, but he also seemed to be waltzing on his feet with the bass as his partner.

The other musicians were dynamos of talent, too. Wendell Brunious was smashing as band leader and trumpeter. Bugged-eyed Joe Lastie on drums was the backbone of a good time. Lester Caliste added a smooth slide with his trombone. It was Kimball, however, who stopped hearts with a nearly miraculous rendition of “Just a Closer Walk With Thee.” At least once in life, everyone should get to hear a singer go at it in this unpolluted way. Kimball’s voice was not only heartfelt and beautiful — in a good granddaddy kind of way — but it had the power to make you understand the meaning of the song, too. His voice was all about a “closer walk,” indeed.

The concert ended with the band’s signature song “When the Saints Go Marching In,” which got everyone up and clapping. Several musicians took their instruments and entered the audience, but quickly realized there wasn’t room for them to play in the aisles. So they gladly shook hands with folks instead. Jaffe pulled several people onto the stage to get them dancing to the finale, and a few were willing to cut loose. The others clapped.

At a reception that followed, the musicians all made an appearance to drink champagne, eat pecan pie and pralines, and toast an evening marked finally by triumphant success. Teens and seniors alike stood in line to thank the players, to get their autographs or have a picture taken with them. “I’m as old as your banjo player,” one woman told Wendell Brunious after he kissed her kindly on the cheek. While the musicians greeted fans, champagne glasses — held by doctors, lawyers, arts patrons, musicians and others who splurged for just one evening — clinked in cheers to the festivity of the night.