A week into the London Jazz Festival and after edgy sax breaks and drum polyrhythms aplenty, the jaded music consumer might wonder where the next thrill will turn up - which is where Matthew Herbert comes in. The Brian Eno-esque figure might seem an unlikely source; he is an electronic musician whose first live performance in 1995 involved a sampler and a bag of crisps. But lately he's been taking to the stage with a singer, a 16-piece jazz band and here, for one night only, a 70-strong student choir from Goldsmiths College. The sensory assault - visual as well as aural - that follows is innovative and inspired.

The set is based round his new album, There's Me, and There's You, on which jazzy tunes often cushion biting lyrics about politics or consumerism. Parts that sound merely clever on CD come alive on stage. To the left is the tuxedoed Herbert, jabbing at his machines, sampling the band. These looped sounds augment or subvert the music. To the right is his singer, Eska Mtungwazi (pictured), statuesque with sculpted hair, iridescent make-up and a sort of metallic ra-ra skirt. Her voice can switch effortlessly from soulful sweetness to Bassey-style swagger. Three conductors marshal band and choir.

They open with The Story, which on one level is a light R&B tune but with lyrics about the vacuity of the mass media. It is accompanied by smartly choreographed opening and closing of newspapers by the choir. Pontificate and Regina take potshots at the power of, respectively, the Church and the monarchy. In this bittersweet cabaret, the uneasiest moment comes with Battery, for which performers don hoods. Audience laughter dies when it becomes clear this is a song about state-sponsored torture.

There are, though, moments of delightful silliness, too - the massed choruses of Yesness and the woozy nostalgia of Just Swing. But tonight Herbert has the media on his mind. He crumples up a copy of the Daily Mail, samples the sound then loops it. The ballad that follows is accompanied by performers meticulously tearing newspapers into strips and launching them into the air. The image of the desiccated tabloid press floating confetti-like through the pink and blue stage lights as the band gently swings will stay with me for a long time.

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