Gran may prefer to wrap her chops around the accompanying chocs come gift time as she settles down for an evening by the telly in the company of top sway-a-long dream boat André Rieu. ''Nice young German jazz chaps, gran, for you - enjoy.'' ''More waltzes and Westlife next time,'' she twinkles. But was that an ominous shudder in her quaver I wonder. Mosaic is whipped off the Dansette quickly enough before Gran dives in to enthuse once again over 'Home To Donegal' and demolishes the heart-shaped raspberry cream and the one that looks like a triangle but undeniably still stuck to the roof of the mouth produces an after-taste that conjures a vision of treacly sludge. Double act brothers trumpeter Julian and pianist Roman Wasserfuhr clearly don't think you can have too many sweet centres on any one record and so repeat the trick endlessly. Lads, grans are a tough audience. Mosaic is the latest. So melodicism, a major key or three, pervasive decent chapness and the comfort blanket of a few plagal and perfect cadences are everywhere. But conversely the dynamic range is relatively small, the mastering genteel on the ear, and yet - mercifully - no animals were harmed in the making of Mosaic. Tinkle, toot and paraphrase is the method that works best of all for the brothers. Full blown improvisation is a distant land. 'Dakira' has the sort of piano line you will hear over the PA all day long in a Nero. The feeling of being smothered by niceness is excruciating.