The Django Reinhardt Festival, which is now in the middle of its seventh season at Birdland, is the bearer of two formidable jazz legacies. The first is that of its namesake, the remarkable gypsy who is widely acknowledged as the first important European jazzman and also, to my taste at least, the greatest of all guitarists. The second is that of the late impresario Norman Granz, who re-invented the jam session, which previously had been a semi-private kind of performance for musicians and their friends before becoming a spectacle designed to fill concert halls and even stadiums.

Like Granz’s “Jazz at the Philharmonic” concerts, the DjangoFest, produced by Pat Phillips and Ettore Strata, has become an ongoing, globetrotting franchise that makes two annual appearances in Manhattan (in the summer at Alice Tully Hall and November at Birdland). Like jam sessions, JATP and otherwise, the Django events are reliant less on pre-set compositions and ensemble playing than long solos with a rotating cast of stars working with a core rhythm section. And, also like JATP, while they are mostly tasteful and delightfully spontaneous, there are also moments that are predictable and exhibitionistic.

This year, unusually, there is only one star guitarist, the formidable Dorado Schmitt (who doubles on violin and triples as vocalist), whose son, Samson Schmitt, plays rhythm guitar. The remaining regulars appearing every night are the violinist Alexandre Cavaliere, the accordionist Ludovic Beier, and the bassist and musical director Brian Torff (the only American in the group). They mix it up in various combinations, and only the younger Schmitt was on stage for the whole 90 minute set on Tuesday night.

The opening set that night began thoughtfully with an accordion-guitar duo by Schmitt Jr. and Mr. Beier, opening with Chick Corea’s “Spain” — a pair of European jazzmen interpreting an American jazz standard reflecting on Old Europe. When the twosome essayed a slow ballad, Mr. Beier, playing organstyle chords, showed that his major influence as a musician is more the soul jazz of Jimmy Smith than polka king Frankie Yankovic.

Next, the group reformed into a trio with both Schmitts and Mr. Torff to play the standard “I’ll See You In My Dreams” (recorded by Reinhardt in 1939), and we heard, for the first time, the familiar up-and-down pomp rhythm associated with Reinhardt’s most famous ensemble, the Quintette of the Hot Club of France. With the addition of Mr. Cavaliere (who, at 21, looks young enough to play at his own bar mitzvah) and Mr. Beier, the group had now reached Quintette size, and essayed Charlie Haden’s “El Fuego” — a second example (following “Spain”) of a contemporary American jazzman contemplating Spanish music. Here, Mr. Beier soloed effectively on the accordina, a wind-blown device resembling the mutant offspring of a concertina and a harmonica.

At this point, the full contingent of regulars was joined by special guest Dominick Farinacci, a trumpet prodigy who is so young that, not surprisingly, the first piece of information in his official bio is his age (20). His youth not withstanding, Mr. Farinacci perfectly nailed the swing idiom and stayed completely in character. When his horn was added to the quintet on “All of Me,” the overall sound easily recalled Reinhardt’s meetings with American swing trumpeters like Rex Stewart and Bill Coleman. The trumpeter was also convincing on “Tears,” one of Reinhardt’s loveliest ballads, with a minor key melody and an outstanding bridge.

The rest of the opening set included several compositions by Mr. Schmitt Sr., namely “Sinti Rhapsody,” a cutthroat competition between the two dueling fiddlers, the composer, and Mr. Cavaliere, in which the idea seemed not to be to play more inventively, but simply to play faster — as if the loser had to pay the check. More graceful was “Bossa Dorado,” which seems inspired by Reinhardt’s version of “Brazil.” In between the two, Mr. Schmitt sang a French chanson. The first set climaxed familiarly with Reinhardt’s most dependable jam-session vehicle, “Minor Swing,” leading, as it usually does, into the traditional Russian-gypsy air, “Dark Eyes.” “Minor Swing” has become fairly established as the climactic tune of the DjangoFest, and each year they seem to play it faster; on Tuesday it exceeded what Mel Brooks (in “Spaceballs”) would call “ludicrous speed”: beyond 16th and 32nd notes into 64th notes and whatever comes after that.

The DjangoFest is as much a visual event as a musical one; if you can’t come to Birdland, I recommend picking up one of the DVDs that the producers are selling of the 2004 and ’05 events. (The highlight of last year’s fest, coincidentally, is the clarinetist Ken Peplowski, who is also the guest star tonight.)

The Reinhardt Festival, though it hasn’t exactly become a formula, still has room for experimentation; I still would like to see these Djangologists specifically replicate the classic Quintette of the Hot Club of France, with solo guitar and violin, two rhythm guitars, and bass. Even more so, particularly in a concert setting, one yearns to see the festival tackle more of Reinhardt’s compositions — he was extremely proud of his accomplishments as a composer, and rightfully so — particularly his longer works for big bands and full orchestras. The DjangoFest has long since succeeded in capturing the essence of Django’s style and spirit, now the element it needs is a sense of ambition worthy of its inspiration.

wfriedwald@nysun.com