An antic, venturous Brazilian

It would have been easy to view Brazil’s Hermeto Pascoal as a kind of musical clown in the first few minutes of his concert Thursday at UCLA’s Royce Hall.

He walked on stage, a round man with a long, white beard and a gregarious manner, wearing a colorful outfit and holding a plastic water bottle. He blew across the top of the bottle to produce a flute-like note. Then, gradually taking swigs from the bottle, he produced -- with remarkable accuracy -- a descending scale-like series of notes.

That was only one element in an evening full of similarly dramatic musical actions. Pascoal also sang -- if that’s the right word -- a set of variations by humming tunes while gargling water from a glass. Spontaneously strolling onstage and off, he directed his six-piece ensemble with verbal shouts interspersed with theatrical gestures.

At other points in his program, he gathered his musicians into a group, banging metal pipes on the stage floor, and enjoined the audience to sing along by following his lead through a series of riff-like and ultimately harmonic melody patterns.

But, like Dizzy Gillespie, Harry Partch and Frank Zappa -- all of whom came to mind during the program -- Pascoal’s Puckish style was based on much more than musical clowning. As with Gillespie, Pascoal’s antics acknowledged the value of juxtaposing entertainment with adventurousness. Like Partch’s music, the program reflected a view of music as a big tent, encompassing theater, visuals and ritual. And as with Zappa, Pascoal’s effervescent manner provided an engaging frame for some remarkably complex compositions.

Pascoal’s presentation turned out to be longer than expected when the program’s co-headliner, singer Monica Salmaso, developed a severe throat condition and was unable to perform. So, after a brief, lyrical segment by Salmaso’s pianist, Benjamin Taubkin, the two segments of the evening belonged to Pascoal.

Every piece was jazz-based in one way or another, often sizzling with hard bop references and fiery soloing from saxophonist Vinicius Dorin, pianist Andre Marques and bassist Itibere Zwarg. But the jazz rhythms were blended into a simmering stew of Brazil’s diverse rhythms, spiced with shifting rhythmic meters driven by the brilliant drumming and percussion sounds of Marcio Bahia and Pascoal’s son, Fabio Pascoal.

When singer Aliane Moreno joined the instrumentalists, without introduction, the music moved into even more challenging territory. Driven by her fluid soprano, melody lines soared across octaves and ventured through chromatic thickets, making Pascoal’s unique creative overview come vividly alive.