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Brazilian jazz legend Hermeto Pascoal is celebrated for his experimental concoctions.

Unfortunately, Hermeto Pascoal, the father figure of Brazilian jazz, doesn’t speak any English.

Could a translator’s words accurately convey his personality?

They didn’t have to.

The 68-year-old songwriter and multi-instrumentalist who Miles Davis once called “the world’s most impressive musician” can communicate better with music instead. Over the phone in New York about a week ago, Pascoal gave a small performance that perfectly conveyed his personality, perhaps even better than he could have done in Portuguese.

“Before we hang up, I’m going to make a sound with her,” Pascoal announced through a translator. “Lily’s going to make a sound with her tongue and throat and I’m going to make a sound with my mouth and throat as well.”

And before anything else could be said, his band member Lily made a steady underlying beat that sounded like something between a grunt and blowing her nose. Next, Pascoal clicked his tongue to mimic a horse’s trot. The two sounds together resulted in a nice polyrhythm. Lastly, Pascoal hummed the melody of “Oh! Susanna.”

Most people would agree Pascoal is eccentric, to say the least. Pascoal, who is performing tonight in Royce Hall, is often referred to as “O Bruxo” or “The Sorcerer”, mostly for his innovative power in his usage of odd instrumentation. He has incorporated the sounds of everything from hubcaps and sewing machines to piglets and soccer announcers into his music.

“Sometimes, I don’t like instruments that are ready,” Pascoal said. “I don’t like predetermined sound. I like to create my own sound, like with water, rocks or air, depending on the situation.”

Pascoal calls this musical technique “Som da Aura” or “Aura’s Sound”, which some might say is similar to musique concrete, a class of electronic music produced from editing together fragments of natural and industrial sounds.

A classic example of musique concrete is the cash register sounds and clinking coins at the beginning of Pink Floyd’s “Money.” And, like Pink Floyd, Pascoal’s music is psychedelic, minus the synthesizers, electric guitars and acid.

For his use of “Som da Aura”, Pascoal has been compared to American experimental composer Harry Partch. Pascoal has also been compared to French composer and conductor Pierre Boulez for his use of odd meters and his integration of various forms, including free jazz and the Brazilian forms frevo, maxixe, xaxado and baião.

The nickname “The Sorcerer” has also maintained such staying power because it so accurately describes Pascoal’s physical appearance as well. Perhaps it’s his Merlin-like appearance and the fact that he’s an albino. In his youth, Pascoal actually performed in a trio of albino accordion players with his brother and the noted Brazilian composer Sivuca.

Or maybe people see Pascoal as a mystical presence because he is such an intensely spiritual man. Although others have called Pascoal a genius, the only genius Pascoal says he knows is God.

It was with his spirituality, in addition to his music, that Pascoal was able to eventually build a friendship with Miles Davis, who was well known for having somewhat of a laconic and confrontational personality.

“I was in concert the first time we met,” Pascoal said. “Davis just came up to me, and I didn’t speak English so his percussionist came up to help, and Miles was explaining, ‘I don’t usually come up to people and talk to them, and I have no idea why I’m doing this, but I did.’ I think it was a very spiritual and musical connection.”

The two eventually collaborated on Davis’ 1970 album, “Live-Evil”, which features two of Pascoal’s songs.

As he did with Davis, Pascoal has had a hypnotizing influence over his audiences. In 1982, in the middle of a performance at the IBAM Theater in Rio de Janeiro, Pascoal and his band, the Bandinhas, got up and walked out of the theater onto the streets – all the while continuing to play. The mobile group included a piccolo, two saxes (one played by Pascoal), a tuba and percussion, and also thousands of audience members.

“It was a very different sensation, an amazing sensation,” Pascoal said. “I like to bring music to the public. Sometimes the public outside the theater is not able to hear my music inside, so I wanted to bring my music outside. I consider myself more like a street musician.”

Eventually one of the theater directors wouldn’t allow the crowd back into the venue, so Pascoal simply kept walking all the way back to his hotel, singing and playing with a huge crowd behind him.

The hypnotizing influence Pascoal has on his audience may be magical, but most of his work is produced by a steady work schedule. Pascoal is also called “O Campeão” or “The Champ” by the musicians he works with for his relentless work ethic.

Pascoal made sure his former band, O Grupo, practiced six hours a day, five days a week. Sometimes the group would spend up to 12 hours a day in the recording studio. And for his 60th birthday, Pascoal made a commitment to write a song every day for a year, which produced 366 songs, since it was a leap year.

So how does Pascoal feel about all these monikers?

“I want people to call me whatever they want,” Pascoal said, “so long as I’m remembered as the multi-instrumentalist who played music for the world.”