Andy Sheppard, Pizza Express Jazz Club, London<img src="http://www.independent.co.uk/template/ver/gfx/threestar.gif" height="1" width="1"/><img src="http://www.independent.co.uk/template/ver/gfx/threestar.gif" height="10" width="47"/>

It's nearly 20 years since Andy Sheppard's debut album announced the saxophonist as a new voice on the British jazz scene. The aura of youth still clings to him, though - as does a capacity for self-effacement that allows him to lead without any overly dominant behaviour.

In this stint at Pizza Express, accompanied by John Parricelli on guitar, Nic France on drums and Dudley Phillips on bass, Sheppard acted like a man with nothing to prove. Almost reticent, the leader allowed as much solo space to his guest, Claude Deppa, whose flugelhorn traced luscious lines over the clean-sounding rhythm section.

When Sheppard himself stepped up, the tone was rich and mellow. His saxophone told of a man who had dipped into, digested and been well nourished by a whole banquet of styles. Indeed, Sheppard sounded as though he had assimilated the entire saxophone canon.

With such a body of knowledge, he had no need to show off - not that that was ever his style - and anyone expecting a howling, grandstanding hornman would certainly have been disappointed. Delicate phrases poked their way out of his sax bell, growing into fatter streams of notes, interspersed with the odd honk. On tunes such as "Summertime", taken at a bluegrass-tinged, half-time swagger, Sheppard weaved querulous lines around the tune, stated by Deppa.

The leader's reticence bordered on the curious, though, on a South African township number. Standing back is one thing, but Sheppard's leadership became marked more by an absence, or a watchfulness, than by participation. If, as Stan Tracey, puts it, a jazz tune is a canvas, then he seemed content to let his studio do most of the work.

But Sheppard seemed perfectly content. This was one of a series of evenings where he played with different guests each night. Maybe, as host, he felt it only gracious to allow the visitor to speak his fill.

Certainly, when he came to adding his remarks on the saxophone, his rejoinders were considered but produced in a sound that was an utter joy on the ear. For my part, I would have welcomed a little more loquacity - a little more conversation, perhaps.