McCoy Tyner, Ronnie Scott's

Inspired to take up the piano by his neighbours Bud and Richie Powell, Philadelphia’s McCoy Tyner made jazz history as a member of the early-1960s John Coltrane quartet before emerging as a leader at Blue Note records. If his voicings seem any less distinctive today, it’s only because they have been so influential. And though his attack may have mellowed a little, that famous haymaker left hand remains very much in evidence several years after he blew out the candles on his 70th birthday cake.

But as much as his technical ability, what was most remarkable last night – along with a dapper white suit and a subwoofer-frequency speaking voice – was Tyner’s mastery of form. There was the odd blues, but many of his pieces were more linear, and more unusual, than the usual sequence of solos over cyclical chord structures, each ending with predictably climactic fireworks. It was music of collective, rather than individual, ego, the boundaries between one solo and another so blurred that even the well-drilled Ronnie’s audience sometimes failed to provide the ripples of applause that traditionally serve as jazz punctuation.

Employing a tone so distant he could at times have been in the room next door, saxophonist Gary Bartz played a relatively low-key role, but the rhythm section proved equally adept both in the shadows and when taking centre stage. Gerald Cannon’s bass tone was rich and punchy, even high up in thumb position, while the young Francisco Mela effortlessly amalgamated Latin and swing rhythms in his energetic but nuanced drumming. Best of all, all four musicians actually looked as though they were enjoying themselves, Mela’s mouth hanging open in a toothy grin by the second set and Bartz at one point actually laughing out loud.

Tyner may not have altered his style dramatically in the last 50 years, but, like Thelonious Monk, he was so original that he had no need to. And though fast catching up with the most senior of jazz statesmen – Sonny Rollins, Abdullah Ibrahim, Ornette Coleman, Cecil Taylor, even Dave Brubeck – the job satisfaction seems not to have faded, as anyone who saw Jools struggling to shut him up on last night's Later... (see video below) will attest. “We want to have a purpose in life,” he announced after the final piece. “I think I’ve found it.”