Dinosaur are one of the UK’s fastest rising new bands, although their recent re-naming hides a few years of history as the Laura Jurd Quartet. The London foursome look even younger than their actual ages, thus qualifying as fully fresh-faced. Trumpeter Jurd’s music (for she is the sole composer) is considerably older in its countenance, with much of its vocabulary reaching back to the electrified early-1970s sound of Miles Davis, re-configured via a more recent approach to this sonic palette.

Jurd also plays a small keyboard, sometimes at the same time as she’s blowing horn, her parts tending towards the robo-tinkling, thin end of the aural wedge. Additionally, she’s responsible for some of the most nagging melodies, on her weebling keys: cheesily profound, a childlike Moondoggy tone in tow.

Jurd’s trumpet solos rise up out of a more mainline jazz tradition, crystal clear and sharply delivered. It’s Elliot Galvin who takes the core keyboard role, his solos and themes more elaborately dwelling within the expected realms. The band invariably change tack when both key-operators are flying, adopting a vocabulary that’s as much rock or electronic as jazz-orientated. Miles phrases abound in some of the themes, but sometimes exuded as a South African township variant.

The third number arrives and Dinosaur’s starting to cook, with “Underdog”, as Galvin tears out a solo with a brutal edge. Jurd maintains a blistering flow, into a slugging blues creation, with some sharply clipped riffing. The extended “Primordial” is a heightened, vigorous version, when compared to that which appears on Dinosaur’s debut album.