More double-bills like these might justify Ronnie Scott's admission prices and restore its street-cred as London's indispensable spot for jazz students and connoisseurs. Last night's headliners were both top-flight artists. Hargrove is an eloquent trumpeter who switches easily from hard-core straight-ahead improvisation to funk grooves of the nastiest kind.

Garbarini, raised in Turin, based in New York and recently featured with the Dizzy Gillespie Tribute Band, is the best young scat-singer to emerge for years.

Using the time-honoured Ella Fitzgerald vocabulary, involving such components as "blee", "doop", "bla-doy" and "ow", she soon warmed up a thin first-set crowd. There were too many early-evening ballads (Poor Butterfly, I Loves You Porgy, Lush Life) but she also scatted expertly through Lover, No More Blues and particularly Sunny Side of Street, quoting from memory three solos recorded by Sonny Stitt, Dizzy Gillespie and Sonny Rollins on their classic 1957 sextet album.

Hargrove, no mean scatter himself, was moved to sit in on this number - a slight breach of etiquette, perhaps, but forgivable since both share the same agent. By the time Roberta led off her trio, with the excellent Tamir Hendelman on piano, former George Shearing sideman Neal Swainson on bass and star veteran Jake Hanna on drums, the club was full and Hargrove's quintet was greeted with real enthusiasm.

Noted for his fiery drummers, Roy had found another great one in Montez Coleman, whose controlled violence supplied the scruffofthe-neck propulsion every good group needs. Pianist Gerald Clayton (bassist John Clayton's son) soloed tastefully, while altoist Justin Robinson displayed some of Kenny Garrett's passion and soulful sense of drama.

Their best numbers were Greens at the Chicken Shack (a gospel-rich shuffle-beat theme by pianist Cyrus Chestnut) and a fine ballad version of You Go to My Head. Good sounds, good value.