It was billed as "American Express Brings You Central Park in Blue," an elaborate publicity stunt for a new credit card complemented by charity work (merchandise proceeds were earmarked for the Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation) and a heavy lineup of Lilith Fair and Classic Rock all stars: Sheryl Crow and "Friends" Sarah McLachlan, Chrissie Hynde, Stevie Nicks, the Dixie Chicks, Eric Clapton and last-minute surprise Keith Richards. But what it all boiled down to, really, was Crow's rock & roll fantasy come to life.

"Guess what," she announced incredulously to the 25,000 fans gathered in Central Park's East Meadow Tuesday night. "I'm playing Central Park, like Simon & Garfunkel, Diana Ross...and Garth Brooooks!" And out of the gate, with not a "Friend" in sight save her road-tested band, Crow played the first five songs of her night of nights like her life depended on it. Charging out with corded arms pumping like a prize fighter (or latter-day Bono), decked out in hot red pants and a matching, skimpy red bib that exposed her naked back, she strapped on a fat acoustic guitar and snarled hungrily through "A Change." She then swapped the guitar for a bass and "Anything But Down," followed by electric guitar for "Can't Cry Anymore." With each different axe she swaggered, swayed and posed like a natural guitar hero, grinning sheepishly during a long, exaggerated pause in "Can't Cry" like Jimmy Page teasing his way through the dive-bomb screams of "Whole Lotta Love." She was pushing her luck hard and fast with the cliches (which would later include her own Axl Rose dance during "Sweet Child O' Mine"), but more often than not she got away with them by merit of her sheer, go-for-broke enthusiasm, solid songs and the muscle of a razor sharp band led by the excellent slide guitarist Peter Stroud. Then the first special guest of the evening came out, and things began to get shaky.

Sarah McLachlan and Crow's duet on the former's piano ballad "Angel" (as finessed, one assumes, on countless Lilith Fair dates) is not without merit: the voices wrap just right around the soft, delicate melody, making for a lovely albeit somber lullaby. But sandwiched between the screeching, psychedelic blowout at the end of Crow's "It Don't Hurt" and the Guns N' Roses cover, the misplaced ballad knocked the show's momentum back several steps. Fortunately for Crow, an intermission soon followed in preparation for the FOX-TV televised portion of the evening; when she strutted back on stage some ten minutes later, prowling around catlike for the length of "Every Day Is a Winding Road," she seemed back on target. But for the rest of the evening, during which a new guest was trotted out for nearly every song, everything would ride on how wisely said guests were used. To wit, the virtuoso Dixie Chicks were all but wasted, with singer Natalie Maines allowed to steal Crow's vocal thunder on "Strong Enough" and "Mississippi," but fiddle and banjo stars Martie Seidel and Emily Robison given little room to step out in the straight-forward arrangements. The great Chrissie Hynde, meanwhile, was given no more than a couple of verses of Crow's "If It Makes You Happy." Bar Stevie Nicks' rote, thank-you-good-night version of her own Fleetwood Mac standard "Gold Dust Woman," the whole affair began to feel like a tribute to Sheryl Crow, starring Crow herself.

Thankfully, Crow didn't make Keith Richards play that game; you just don't make a genuine Rolling Stone play a wannabe Stones song, even if you write better Stones songs than the Stones themselves these days. Looking like the Ol' Dirty Bastard of rock & roll -- gangly, slouching and wearing a half dozen feathers in his hair as though he'd just pulled his head out of a tackle box -- Keef ambled up to the mike, said "It's great to be here -- it's great to be anywhere," and sprawled into "Happy." He kept the reins for Chuck Berry's "Sweet Little Rock & Roller," working Crow and her band to their highest peak all night, then kissed the hostess, waved to the crowd and shuffled off.

After Richards' shot of high-octane rhythm, the heavy dollop of Eric Clapton's Cream and Hendrix seamed a little leaden. Clapton's contribution was less about revving up the band than it was a showcase for his solos. Clapton being Clapton, though, that was a fair-enough trade. Crow delivered a mean Jack Bruce impersonation on the high parts of "White Room," but could only shake her head in naked awe as she watched her former lover effortlessly work his way through the song's spiraling coda and then hammer off the majestic opening riff of "Little Wing."

Clapton left to allow Crow to close the show the snaky groove of her own "There Goes the Neighborhood," then returned with the rest of the guests for the encore, a wonderful free-for-all through Bob Dylan's "Tombstone Blues." With strong, confident verses from Crow, Maines, Hynde and McLachlan (Nicks stuck to tambourine) and scorching performances from every musician on stage, it was everything that was right and potentially transcendent about the evening with none of the off parts. No, that's not quite true: as much of a hoot as it was to watch Richards shake a wicked groove and matching grin at a black-leathered, honky-tonk Dixie Chick, it would have been twice the thrill to see the venerable devil sidle up alongside God. But that glimpse of rock & roll Armageddon, or heaven, will just have to wait.