Jamie Davis appears on the cover of Steppin’ Out in a tuxedo, smiling beside a car under golden lights. He looks pleased to be there, and the record has a similarly direct ambition to entertain. I’m on board with an evening that involves a good singer, a good band and some attention to appearances. A singer working with this repertoire has to make the prospect of hearing familiar songs seem desirable again, and Davis has chosen twelve that give his baritone several different jobs. Swing, blues, Latin rhythms and orchestral balladry supply the settings. His experience with the Count Basie Orchestra matters here chiefly as preparation for singing among musicians who have plenty to say.

Davis sings in that low, rounded register, establishes a melody, and then the instrumental playing expands around it. Suddenly the band has plenty to say. Trumpet, trombone, saxophone, piano: the attention keeps moving, and the score begins to sound sociable. These stretches have the excitement of a jam, with the musicians taking the song for a walk. The written arrangements remain very much in charge. Hearing the players sound this eager inside them is a major reason to enjoy the album. The baritone has drawn you in, and now a whole group of musicians wants your attention. That is an excellent situation to be in.

I have a weakness for a low male voice in this kind of music, particularly when it stays calm amid a busy arrangement. Davis singing can sit comfortably in a melody while the brass supplies the excitement, and the contrast in tone is easy on the ear. Some of the language becomes percussive; the articulation gives flowing melodies a series of distinct verbal accents. His delivery remains conversational through those changes. A singer can spend a great deal of energy sounding imposing in a register like this, and Davis puts the sound to work inside the song.

His time with the Count Basie Orchestra is useful context for the way this album operates. He has experience singing among players with strong instrumental identities, and he produced Steppin’ Out himself. The amount of playing on the record belongs to his conception of it. Shelly Berg serves as musical director and pianist; Wycliffe Gordon’s trombone brings sliding inflections and muted effects into the brass writing. A trombone acquiring the gestures of speech is an entertaining sound in its own right, especially alongside a singer with such a deep register. The tenor saxophone and trumpet have their own solos, and the band gets time to develop its part of the performance. Anyone buying this exclusively for a vocalist should prepare to become interested in the musicians. The Sting cover, “Fragile”, put me in an expensive restaurant immediately. A specific kind of expensive restaurant, too, with the bill arriving in a small folder and somebody having strong opinions about the glassware. Grant Geissman’s delicate guitar fills and the gentle rhythm make the melody easy to settle into, while Davis gives it the full weight of his voice. I mean the restaurant association affectionately. Music can be decorative, beautifully performed and worth paying attention to, all in the same sitting. The instrumental passages on this album keep drawing the attention back towards the players.

Across the programme, Davis gives familiar material a recognisable vocal personality. The choices include melodies by Duke Ellington, Thelonious Monk, Horace Silver and Michel Legrand, alongside songs with a life in popular culture. Recognition is part of the experience. You may already carry a version of a melody in your head, and a bossa rhythm or a different approach to the words can redirect that memory. Davis clearly enjoys the song itself, including the opportunity to let somebody else play it for a while. The blues has some pleasure in the telling of an unhappy story; the swing arrangements allow the language to move. Carmen Bradford’s guest appearance adds another singer with her own character and Basie connection. Davis’s name gives the project its identity, and the cast supplies plenty of individual character. The ballads are where my associations become shamelessly cinematic. Eight minutes of “Here’s to Life” brought the lights of Los Angeles to mind, and the picture stayed. I imagined the city seen through a car window, the journey taking as long as it takes, with that baritone occupying the interior. The strings, piano and tenor solos give the performance its expansive scale. Davis can inhabit a long melody with the same vocal weight he brings to the ensemble settings.

Steppin’ Out is a successful vocal jazz album, with its most lasting pleasures in the swing performances, the blues and the duet. Davis has a voice capable of making a familiar melody immediately attractive, and the rhythmic handling of his words supplies a solid reason to stay with the interpretation. The recurring bossa arrangements and the orchestral polish narrow the emotional range of some selections, even as they make the recording easy to enjoy.

“Dat Dere”, “Bad Luck” and the Bradford duet give the strongest account of Davis’s gifts: the rhythmic ease, the vocal weight and the pleasure he takes in performing with other people. This is a good record whose singer has plenty happening beneath the immaculate presentation.