Farewell concert tours are always bittersweet, a celebration of a wonderful career mixed with the sadness that it's almost over.

The seldom-seen O'Jays' final Twin Cities show Saturday at Mystic Lake Casino in Prior Lake was doubly sad: It was the last time for the long-lived R&B group that has given us "Love Train" and "Back Stabbers." To add to the regret, lead singer Eddie Levert, who cofounded the group in 1958, wasn't there.

There was no official explanation. Levert has had COVID-19 issues in recent years, and his 22-year-old daughter Ryan died of lupus in December. But he has performed some shows since then, including the Ultimate Disco Cruise 2025 in late February. At 82, he was seated for some of the set, but his radiant personality and potent voice still were evident in a YouTube video of the performance.

On Saturday, in what may have been their first Twin Cities concert of this century, the O'Jays didn't completely acknowledge the elephant in the room — or not in the room — to the full house at Mystic Showroom. After the first number, Eric Grant, who has been a member since 1995, talked about how the O'Jays were the kind of family where if one goes down, the next man steps up. He didn't mention names. Then the group broke into "Family Reunion," from 1976.

With original member Walter Williams Sr. still on board, the O'Jays delivered a spirited, joyful 75 minutes of vintage R&B. The band was crisp and in the groove. The vocal harmonies were soulful and augmented by two women, and the songs were pleasing and nostalgic for an old-school crowd that was stylin' on a Saturday night.

The O'Jays, who started as high schoolers in Canton, Ohio, rose to fame in the 1970s when they were part of the Sound of Philadelphia with producers Kenneth Gamble and Leon Huff. That partnership led to a string of R&B and pop hits including "I Love Music," "For the Love of Money" and the aforementioned "Back Stabbers" and "Love Train."

As was common back in the day with vocal groups, various singers traded off on lead vocals, but Levert was the O'Jays' main man. He was known for his rich, robust voice with an alluring rasp and stentorian power, kind of like Otis Redding or David Ruffin of the Temptations.

Even though the O'Jays' run of hits slowed in the late '80s, they continued to tour and record, receiving their flowers with induction into three prestigious halls of fame — Rock & Roll, Vocal Group and Rhythm & Blues.

On Saturday, the Levert-less O'Jays had concertgoers dancing to 1978's "Use Ta Be My Girl" and partying in third gear to the inevitable "Love Train," which was so joyous you half expected LL Cool J to emerge on a train like he does in those beer commercials. Instead, a video was shown of the O'Jays featuring Levert performing "Love Train" on music-dance TV program "Soul Train" back in the day.

At 81, Williams still impressed with his falsetto while spokesman Grant kept things lively with his personality. Nicholas Davis, the bearded newcomer from Atlanta, had the presence, voice and instincts of a lead singer. Like Levert, he can get ladies swooning with his ballads and fire up a crowd with his soulful testifying.

Davis seems to have the makings of a permanent replacement for Levert if the O'Jays opt to continue as a brand. Davis looked the part in the requisite red outfit and matching patent leather shoes. But he hasn't mastered any of the ensemble dance moves. In fact, he didn't even essay any. He looked out of place as Williams and Grant smoothly executed choreographed steps in the tradition of heyday soul vocal groups. That was surprising considering that Davis has been occasionally pinch-hitting for Levert since at least 2022.

Near the end of the evening, Grant introduced all the performers, including Minnesota's own Horny Horns sextet. "Say a prayer for Mr. Eddie Levert," he urged. Then, without any further explanation, he introduced Davis.

Although the O'Jays' show was enjoyable, it felt akin to seeing the surprisingly enduring Temptations — who have one original member (baritone Otis Williams) and a revolving door of younger replacements — in a concert that turns into a sing-along to the beloved hits of your youth.