Hiram Bullock, the big, effusive, dreadlocked jazz-funk guitarist, was born in Japan, studied classical piano in Baltimore and law in Miami, and then guitar in the 1970s with Pat Metheny and Jaco Pastorius. That mixed background seems to fit the mixed bag of a Bullock show, which combines flat-out funk, smooth soul, wild Hendrix-like improv and a scattering of cheesy pop.

Bullock declared his intentions when he heard the club's opening announcement asking listeners to "keep the volume of your conversation to a minimum": he pointed out that any conversationalist up to competing with his level of amplification was welcome to give it a go. He and his quartet then splattered the audience against the walls with a roaring funk instrumental that combined skidding, blues-slurred fast guitar runs with random quotes from Tidings of Comfort and Joy. This was followed by a hammering drum break from Jeremy Gaddie, and a mellifluous soul vocal devoted to Bullock's favourite subject: eating. He then cantered through the jazz skills he mostly keeps under wraps with a piece of deftly timed falsetto scat-singing, a light-stepping swing-guitar break and a burst of driving bebop that ended up in Killer Joe.

Bullock's main influences are undoubtedly James Brown and old-school funk as much as they are Hendrix, Metheny or bop. But as an intelligent entertainer who aims to deliver something for everybody, he showed more soul than soulfulness in this long, one-set gig. Things almost capsized when Bullock took five and let his nasal-toned singer-pianist demolish the Beatles' rocker She Was Just 17. But the leader's gracefully harmonised vocal duet with bassist Frank Gravis on the Latin swinger Quiero el Sol y la Playa confirmed his easygoing versatility. Bullock has a big talent that he doesn't always use as much as he might, but in devastating full-funk mode, he defies you to stay in your seat.