If Ryan Quigley had his way, these words would have appeared on the back of a cardboard sleeve accommodating a vinyl LP. The Derry-born, Glasgow-based trumpeter has a great fondness for jazz on vinyl in general and the classic 1950s and 1960s Blue Notes in particular, and the music on this, his debut recording as a leader, certainly follows in the tradition of Sidewinders and Jazz Messengers while, like the best jazz, sounding as fresh as today.

The background to the recording also follows in the tradition of jazz session stories that Quigley relished reading while absorbing the music from his early teenage years onwards, although unlike the finished article’s authenticity, this wasn’t entirely by design.

Having chosen his line-up – they’re all old friends and all among the UK’s busiest musicians – Quigley ran into the familiar problem of availability. Finally, tenor saxophonist Paul Booth, touring with rock hero Steve Winwood, found a two-day window and pianist Steve Hamilton, in the throes of moving house, abandoned the packing cases to fit in.

Quigley duly booked a day’s rehearsal followed by the recording itself the next day at the acoustically ideal Alexander Gibson room in his alma mater, the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama. Or so he thought. Five minutes in, the rehearsal was abruptly ended by officialdom, the result being that what you hear on this CD came together in an afternoon.

After spending the morning fixing microphone positions and sound levels with engineer Ross Hamilton, the musicians sight read and soloed through Quigley’s charts with admirable poise and vigour. No tune was given more than three takes and since the first run through often generated an unbeatable energy, many of these tracks are first attempts.

To those who know Quigley from a career that has seen him established him as an irresistible force in the Scottish National Jazz Orchestra’s trumpet section and an increasingly potent band leader, while building a freelance clientele that includes both Bob Geldof and minimalism icon Terry Riley, the quality and fire of this music will come as no surprise.

His writing is succinct and deftly orchestrated and his playing has strength in its concision as well as carrying a whole lot of heart, soul, sincerity and enthusiasm.

The funky, Jazz Messengers-like title track - its name a typical piece of musicianly wordplay for a tune written specially for a gig in a distillery at Islay Jazz Festival – encapsulates all these qualities. Duck Egg Blue wittily acknowledges the influence of Miles Davis’s A Kind of Blue, and if Lament has a certain defiance, this underlines Quigley’s ability to capture the personality of its dedicatee, the gloriously talented musical maverick Martyn Bennett, who died tragically young aged thirty-three in 2005.

Among tunes written for family – Buzzy Bee is for Quigley’s two boys, Michael and Connor – for friends, for love, and for fun (Feck betrays the composer’s Irish origins), Quigley has included two contrasting standards.

What is This Thing Called Love is the sextet in typically effervescent form and In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning a duet that Quigley and Hamilton recorded when the others had left for pre-arranged appointments. No afterthought, it illustrates the trumpeter’s firm adherence to the philosophy that, when playing a ballad, the lyrics are as important as the melody, while reinforcing the message that, with Laphroaig-ian Slip, Ryan Quigley’s recording career is off to a flyer.