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Pithecanthropus Erectus. Let My Children Hear Music. Oh Yeah: just three of the albums that American jazz bassist and bandleader Charles Mingus released over his prolific 36-year music career. (He also, curiously, published a mail-order guide on toilet-training cats in 1954.)

It was Mingus’ 1959 long-player Mingus Ah Um, however, that confirmed his status as a musical giant. A Grammy Hall of Fame inductee, the record is notable for both its breadth of influences as well as the diversity of its compositions. In the span of 46 minutes, Mingus and his friends hit listeners with everything from infectious, gospel-influenced swing a la Better Git It in Your Soul, to the pensive, sonic Valium of Goodbye Pork Pie Hat; a ballad that the composer of every soundtrack love theme owes a debt of gratitude to.

Fittingly, Ah Um – the sophomore venue opened in September by the crew behind Northbridge listening bar Astral Weeks – is another creative work that defies pigeonholing.

The clandestine nature of this austere, dim room – you enter via an unmarked sliding door at the back of Astral Weeks – and its finely honed sound system makes it feel like a private art gallery or illicit rave: if only all those tables and banquettes weren’t everywhere! A handsome four-seat counter feels perfect for guests keen to explore a thrilling drinks inventory running from wines and classic cocktails to artisan sakes. Yet, a bar-top for bar flies this ain’t.

Instead, here’s a place to go when you’re hungry. All that furniture might be dancefloor-unfriendly, but diners dig it. They waltz in and out of this cool 25-person den, enthralled by and dressed for a restaurant that feels (and plays music that is) unique and adventurous. Nab a bar stool and enjoy bonus facetime with Ah Um ambassadors such as Jae Woods, Dan Ambrose and Sean O’Neill – restaurant manager, bar guy and co-owner, respectively – plus glimpses of the semi-open kitchen where chef Branden Scott holds court.

For readers familiar with Scott from his Wines of While stints, you’ll know that his cooking leans heavily on his black book of farmers and suppliers. At his former workplace, this thinking anchored fluid menus casting pristine ingredients as the protagonists of seasonal salads, fortifying pastas and other, predominantly European pleasures. This time around, Scott’s focus has shifted to Japan as well as where its cuisine intersects with wine bar-style small plates.

Yuzukosho, Japan’s au courant fermented chilli and yuzu condiment, underpins a lively mignonette for Coffin Bay oysters. Skewers of plump chicken thigh are grilled yakitori-style and sluiced with an oil bright with kanzuri, another bitey Japanese chilli. Curing Rottnest Island scallops in white miso teases out their latent sweetness. Thin arcs of sweet pumpkin are entombed in a crisp tempura shell and paired with a brown butter yoghurt sauce that cleverly communicates the nuttiness of beurre noisette without the richness.

It’s tempting to draw parallels between such crossover cooking and Japanese-American artist Sadamitsu Fujita painting the cover of Mingus Ah Um, but it’s probably safest to write that Ah Um’s menu merely reflects the cosmopolitan nature of contemporary dining. Not that Scott has lost his touch with European cooking, of course.

He’s a dab hand at grilling beef, believes an eggy crème caramel is a good crème caramel, and his sourdough – crackly of crust, fluffy of crumb –still ranks among the city’s finest. Using nuts and cheeses to build texture is another signature move. A meaty red chermoula sauce accompanying grilled squid is studded with blackened pistachios. An aerated sabayon flavoured with Comte cloaks fried golf balls of mashed potato.

Shavings of the semi-hard goat’s cheese Chabrin plus pieces of walnut add body to raw beef heavily seasoned with the Italian fish sauce, colatura. Scott sheepishly describes the dish’s genesis as needing to use up ingredients. Clearly the leftover shelf in my fridge needs to lift its game.

Naturally, “making do” as a cooking approach isn’t risk-free. One night, red emperor finished with a shellfish bisque tasted too rich on rich. Another time, the pale pickled chillis crowning my fish brought too much heat and sharpness to the party. You might be history’s greatest composer, but if the musicians you’re working with aren’t on point, your recording won’t be either.

Yet despite these misfires – misfires that, I should add, were experienced in earlier meals – Ah Um’s evolution over the past nine months suggests a rosy future. Restaurants, like jazz, are all about live performances. The improvisation. The interplay with the crowd and within the band. The feeling. Legendary trumpeter Miles Davis once said that the sheet music is just a starting point. “Anybody can play,” he said. “The note is only 20 per cent. The attitude of the motherf---er who plays it is 80 per cent.”

Long may the personnel – or, ahem, whatever Mr Davis said – of Ah Um play. And long may diners in Perth continue to support the performances of Ah Um, as well as any other band marching to the beat of its own drum.