With both the 90th anniversary of Hayes’ birth looming next year, and the much talked-of ‘Golden Age’ of British modern jazz fast retreating in the rear-view mirror of history, the issue of this new Avid double couldn’t be more appositely timed.

Hayes’ legend, of course, was established well over half a century ago but for those new to him, or simply unsure which of the various archive releases might best capture the folkloric magic, this well-chosen collection is an absolute boon. Indeed, if you want to know what all the fuss was about during the first flush of the saxophonist’s career then the four ‘classics’ heard here couldn’t be better selected.

The opener, Modern Jazz Scene 1956, is an atmospheric snapshot of Hayes’ first band, a lively octet stylistically pitched somewhere between Shorty Rogers and Tadd Dameron. The leader was just two weeks past his 21st birthday when it was taped and already there is startling idiomatic understanding. Listen to the boisterous account of Horace Silver’s ‘Room 608’ for a slice of early UK hard bop. Elsewhere though the dance band roots of British bop show through, with mambos and quick-quick slow ballads interrupting the flow.

Just five months later After Lights Out is altogether more consistent. A quintet date showcasing the perky-toned trumpet of Dickie Hawdon it still ransacks various jazz fashions (‘Hall Hears The Blues’ is almost Mulliganesque) but on Hayes’ own ‘No, I Woodyn’t’ and Harry South’s ‘Message To The Messengers’ things begin to sound like the real deal.

If this is prototypical Hayes then The Last Word, the final album taped by the iconic Jazz Couriers co-led with fellow tenor Ronnie Scott at the tail end of the decade, shows just how far London’s modernists had travelled in barely three years. Unsurprisingly much of the action centres on the clever tag-team arranging - ‘If This Isn’t Love’ is a little masterpiece of small band scoring – but with Hayes doubling on vibes and flute the textures are more nuanced.

Contemporary critics made great play at the time of how much the Couriers sounded like an American band. At this distance, however, their singularity is perhaps better appreciated. Al Cohn and Zoot Sims might have been feint role models but this is British jazz through and through.

The big question (or hope depending on how partisan the listener) at the dawn of the 1960s was could Hayes, arguably the most authentic local horn player, truly cut it in the international arena?

The answer was Tubbs in NY, an emblematic souvenir of his pioneering stateside visit in 1961. Maybe the band aren’t quite the front-rank hard boppers ideal for the date but it matters not; partnered with the chuckling trumpet of Clark Terry the visiting Englishman sounds right at home dashing off one fluent solo after another. ‘Opus Ocean’ and ‘A Pint of Bitter’ are the tracks everyone talks of from this session – one combustible and virtuosic the other insinuatingly funky – but it’s Hayes’ unaccompanied introduction to ‘You For Me’ that says it all: confident in its every resource and offering ideas of baroque detail this is the sound of a driven soul fully seizing his moment.

It goes without saying then that everything here is highly recommended. Yet it’s also worth noting that it was with these records, rather than the candid live dates that have appeared in recent years, that Hayes carved his deserved reputation. Or, in other words, this is him how he wanted to be heard. Cleanly remastered and packaged with the original sleeve notes (Benny Green’s annotation for the New York set is a classic of its kind) this makes the ideal Tubby Hayes primer.