Rap as an art form is not unknown to Ronnie Scott’s. In recent times US trumpeter Jon Faddis and British double-bassist Darren Taylor have tweezered some streetspeak into their sets but in nothing like the sustained barrage Soweto Kinch levelled at this hallowed clubroom last night.

Since roaring down the M1 with his alto sax and a strikingly original concept album, B-19: Tales from a Tower Block, this charismatic Brummie has kept a low profile, but look out. The sequel, Basement Fables, is coming and once again it combines rap and instrumental jazz, disciplines he refuses to separate. Take his music and you must take his words as well.

In his case it’s worth the effort even if, like me, your brain tends to lock down when confronted by shouty people. Soweto looks lean and mean on his album cover, baseball cap screwed sideways, but actually he comes from a family of actors and playwrights, and puts his words together with thespian flair. Phrases that zipped past included “grey bricks and grey skies” and “cans of Stella/Which you just have to breathe to get salmonella”.

Things hotted up, though, when Soweto went freestyle, choosing the name RONNIES and inviting new words for each letter. “This is where we make up the words as well as the music,” he explained. “I can see you thinking ‘Hey, I paid good money for this’ but don’t worry, we can do it.” And so he did, rhyming every word, including R for rainbow and N for North Finchley.

It was fun, but not as impressive as his dazzling sax solos (imagine Coltranesque torrents delivered by the late Joe Harriott) and the brilliant support of guitarist Femi Tomowo, bassist Karl Rashid Abel and drummer Graham Godfrey.

Kinch’s themes grow ever more complex and his improvising more phenomenal. When he grows old enough to introduce a touch of selectivity and even tenderness, he will be truly devastating.