There has always been something aspirational about Jamiroquai. Not only in Jay Kay's unashamed accumulation of cars and cocaine, women and weed, but in the wine bar slickness of much of their jazz-dance sound which it's all too easy to parody as Ferrero Rocher funk.

The crowd in the bar of the Scala had a little of that air, too. Even allowing for the fact that it was a big company's show for competition winners and other invitees, they were a tanned and styled bunch, ranging from hair-extended Nikki from-Big-Brother youngsters to manicured, suited fortysomethings. The small stage of the venue was straining to contain the gigantic drum and percussion sets, banks of keyboards and guitar effects - the musical equipment that has seen Jay Kay and the band through the huge global stadium and festival shows of the greater part of their 15-year career.

But they wove through it all and took their places with military precision, and as the man himself swaggered on in black bobble hat and (no doubt bogglingly pricey) Adidas tracksuit, a cheer went up - unusually eagerly for a corporate gig - and the familiar groove of Cosmic Girl began. Jay Kay didn't move a lot through that song or Space Cowboy, and indeed apologised for his stiffness, but as the heavy funk riff of High Times came in, he began to slip into his trademark footwork.

The song slipped into the inevitable jazz-lite breakdown, complete with "skibetty bibbetty" scat singing, but that in turn turned to some increasingly intense rhythmic jammingreminding us that the late-Eighties jazz-dance scene from which the band emerged was about proper sweaty dancing above all.

Shortly after, the swooshing cosmic disco of Little L had the crowd moving more than politely, looking like - even though their tickets were free - they really wanted to be there.

The song could bowl over disco snobs, had it not come from a man perceived by so many as so annoying.

And let's face it, it's easy to be annoyed by Jay Kay. A section of between-song banter had him making fantastically half-a***d comments about congestion charging, airports and the environment - including a truly terrible Gordon Brown impersonation - which made the following If I Like It, I'll Do It seem like a manifesto for more youthful Jeremy-Clarksonism.

But the song twisted and changed from polite soul into another down, dirty and quite psychedelic funk jam, more grubby basement than flash car-flaunting poseurs.

Jay railed against "three-and-half minute pop pap", but showed how many strong pop singles he has written, particularly on focused, heavy rocking finale Deeper Underground.

Between the pop hooks and grooving wig-outs there were, it's true, several long lulls into mere wine bar soul noodling, but those lulls couldn't hide how impressive it is that the man has kept funk alive in the mainstream for so long.