He's assumed so many guises since coming to London - singer, rapper, narrator, funky bluesman, marching-band strutter - that it was a relief to catch Abram Wilson on a night when he just wanted to pick up his trumpet and play. This was no jam session, though. Sheet music was evident and the dapper Wilson, ever the showman, left nobody in doubt - "not every band does this" - that this was an evening of new music.

"We're just painting pictures in music," he explained after an energetic opening salvo which included the Flight of the Bumblebee, a semi-classical novelty essayed by very few jazz trumpeters, notably Harry James from the old Benny Goodman band and more recently Wynton Marsalis.

Sidestep, a nimble theme the Jazz Messengers might have played, evoked a memory of tenorist Johnny Griffin, who departed only last Friday. Its pedal-point section, a reminder of Wilson's New Orleans heritage, drew extra fire from the trumpeter, who called for a towel afterwards. "That won't last me a minute," he joked when a female fan handed him a couple of tissues instead.

Peter Edwards, a well-organised young pianist, caught the ear. Mingled with his mandatory Herbie Hancock influences were traces of an earlier master, Bud Powell. Other fresh faces on stage were Karl Rashid Abel, a tall bassist with an urgent tone and confident walk, and Graham Godfrey, a loose-limbed drummer whose sidearm flourishes were enjoyable to watch.

One felt this band would cut loose after getting more used to the material. Mosquito, for instance, had a suitably tricky melody line and I See Through You, dedicated to a duplicitous girlfriend, had a restless cadence.

Not till the set-closer, From Dusk till Dawn, a lament about the toughness of a jazzman's working hours, did things resolve into a meaty minor blues on which the band could flex some unified muscle.

Dune Records boss Janine Irons was watching approvingly, so a debut album cannot be far away.