"We haven't forgotten about Prague," Parker shouted.

And Prague hasn't forgotten about Parker.

Jazz guitarist Charlie Hunter and his trio played Lucerna the night before, but Monday the intimate club was turned into a dance hall. Tables that surrounded the stage Sunday night were pushed to the back of the room, replaced by people. And people looking for more room to dance were dancing on tables.

The band kicked off the show with a funky Latin-tinged number called "Fiesta," using it to introduce the horn section that blistered the ears of funk fans throughout the night: Ron Tooley on trumpet, Greg Boyer on trombone, and the man who singeth on the right hand of the Godfather of Soul, Maceo Parker on the saxophone.

When the announcer called his name, Parker pointed to himself and asked "Who, me?" as he strutted onstage, grinning ear-to-ear and shaking hands with fans pushed up against the stage.

And then Parker attacked his horn. Hands went up. Hips started to shake.

Like the Godfather, Parker is a true showman — equal parts preacher, carnival barker and soul poet. The crowd loved it, and by the time the band broke into "Gimme Some More," hundreds of heads were moving to the groove.

"If I played the saxophone like that, my lips would be bleeding," an American in the crowd marveled. "I wouldn't be able to talk for a day."

But Parker is a veteran with a pedigree steeped in funk. He cut his teeth blowing for James Brown before contributing to various versions of George Clinton's Parliament and Funkadelic acts and Bootsy Collins' Rubber Band. In 2004 Parker joined Prince for his Musicology tour, where he was dubbed "teacher."

On Monday Parker drew a crowd that was part jazz festival and part frat party, a mix of Polo shirts and TAG Heuers, skinheads and dreads, punks and bad panty lines. But they were all sweating and shaking it together.

At 11:15, the nine-piece funk machine slowed it down. Boyer fronted a bluesy ballad while the crowd waited faithfully, with crossed fingers, for a funk-fueled finale.

Then Parker returned to the microphone, introduced the band and announced that it was time to go. There was more applause and the bass hook for the song everybody came to hear, Parker's ass-shaking anthem, "Shake Everything You've Got."

By then, everyone was tuned in. The frat boys, yelling enthusiastic obscenities, pushed their way from the bar onto the crowded dance floor. As "Shake" wound down, the band segued into Marvin Gaye. Parker's son Corey, who raps, beatboxes and sings in the band, grabbed the microphone and blew it up, rapping to Gaye's "Let's Get It On."

The encore was a satisfying "Pass the Peas/Soul Power" medley, and for a moment I felt sorry for a handful of people who had left early, apparently unaware that Parker is known for playing long.

Afterward, walking up Wenceslas Square in a black leather overcoat, a tired Parker was asked what it's like to play in Prague.

"We love you," he replied.