John McLaughlin once said that with Elvin Jones, you get "less and yet more". He was talking about the drummer's habit of playing around the beat instead of upon it, but the same could be said of the legendary Jones himself. He's a diminutive chairman of the board, 70-plus, graciously deferential to the young talent in his band and yet unmistakably the life and soul of the party. His history with Coltrane, Miles and Mingus is folkloric, yet Jones is no snob but a real gent of jazz.

He's not above a moment of mischief, either. "Just in case you're wondering about this hybrid drum set I'm using," he confided, "you can thank or blame Air France, who lost my stuff. It's in lost luggage, or probably South America by now."

He spent a good five minutes introducing his band: Stefano di Batista (saxophone), Steve Kirby (bass), Delfeayo Marsalis (trombone) and Eric Lewis (piano). Then we were away. Your Romance saw di Batista eking out high notes in an energetic warm-up and Marsalis bringing a riper tone and slowing down the melody with triplets, while Lewis worked plenty of rich, bright colours into his unpretentious comping.

The next tune, Mr Jones, written by Elvin's wife Keiko, was highly idiosyncratic and lots of fun. Drums and piano slipped in and out of the groove in a sophisticated emancipation of rhythm while di Batista went on a slightly oriental expedition. Thelonius Monk's tune Green Chimneys gave rein to another exciting episode from Lewis, who played like a man possessed, and who was also key to the last number in this first short but sweet set. In Duke Ellington's It Don't Mean A Thing, his dissonant, gentle introduction on piano retrieved strains of London Bridge is Falling Down and he ventured through ragtime and a malfunctioning waltz, drawing an appreciative roar from the audience before the rest of the machine kicked into gear. The man pulling the levers, Jones himself, was unobtrusive but compelling with a cackly, enjoyable delivery as he gloriously revved up the engine to chisel out new ground.