It's a perfect, warm November afternoon in Pasadena as the LA Music Academy hosts a clinic by internationally acclaimed saxophonist, bandleader and jazz educator Dave Liebman.

Performing with eyes shut in intense concentration, the soprano saxophone specialist brings a compelling series of notes from deep inside his horn and pauses, waiting for his band's response.

He likes what he hears.

Balancing well-timed silences with stunning saxophone textures for maximum effect, Liebman soars with, then against, the rhythmic ostinato of his band, leading the group into a virtuoso journey of timing, expansive harmony, sound colors and dynamics. The melody returns, a sing-song, sweet and sour hook titled "5th Street" from his new album Back on the Corner. It's a soulful broadcast.

"Storytelling. This is what we do," he explains over the sustained applause of a wowed audience. "The job of a good jazz group is to take the listener on a voyage. That means tension and release, and flow,"he adds.

"A beginning, middle, and end, but not something that's always expected," he explains, slipping into the mind of a listener. "Ah, they're going to get loud now. You know what? You're wrong. We're not going to get loud now. There'll be a drum solo soon… No, it's bass, instead," he says, smiling at bassist Tony Marino.

In Liebman's world, each performance is a "jigsaw puzzle" assembled skillfully in real-time. To illustrate this, he singles out drummer Marko Marcinko's shifting use of brushes and sticks during key moments of improvisation.

"The drummer orchestrates the mood," he says, forever endearing him to the percussionists in the house. "You have to be adept to be able to do these things on the spot, in the moment, without preparation," he continues. "Marko orchestrated that piece. That's part of our game: it isn't just technical stuff, it's also about using your mind, and figuring out how to keep things interesting."

Fond of using food analogies when discussing music — playing brushes on a snare drum is "stirring soup"; an augmented-chord passage is "hot sauce on a steak" — Liebman's word choice is perfect, considering he once 'cooked' onstage with jazz giants Elvin Jones and Miles Davis, and has led his own highly-regarded groups for thirty-five years.

As a young, self-described "Coltrane fanatic" in New York City, Liebman attended dozens of performances by the tenor genius. Duly inspired, the Brooklyn-born musician found an early mentor in tenor saxophonist Charles Lloyd, then a rising star for his work with Cannonball Adderly. Dues paid in rehearsal and on the bandstand led to Liebman's gig with Jones (an "ocean" of sound, he says of Trane's main drummer) before the call came from Davis in 1973. That association produced the classic albums Dark Magus, Get Up With It, and On the Corner — electrified jazz-funk explorations that continue to fascinate and enthrall generations of listeners and influence the cream of the remix/trip-hop scene.

Liebman's extensive discography ranges from straight-ahead jazz to chamber music, fusion to the avant-garde. Along the way, he's also recorded highly-personalized tributes to Trane, West Side Story, even Puccini.

Now at the top of this game, Liebman's approach can best be summed up in a remark to a student: "I'm constantly learning — looking backwards, sideways, and in the future. It never ends."

Questions follow, and soon Liebman is discussing the merits of practicing tunes and running exercises as means of learning the tradition.

"Tunes are our vehicle in jazz… Can you play on chord changes without accompaniment and make me know where you are? If you can do that, I'll sign off, and you can do what you want," he says. "You can't escape the intellectual aspect of music. It isn't just vibes or good feelings, it isn't just what you hear. It's somewhere along the line, work.

"It must be automatic," he insists. "Because once you start improvising, you can't stop to say to yourself, 'What's that trick I learned on F#7?' It's too late. Just thinking that is too late, because we're already on the next chord. Have it under your fingers so you don't have to think about it. What you do think about is placement, when to do what — broad statements rather than details," he enthuses.

Long-time Liebman collaborator and ace session guitarist Vic Juris agrees: "The more you know, the more you can play — it all goes into the bank and comes out in mysterious ways."

Picking up his gleaming sax, the bandleader nods. "The object is to make it sound as organic as possible," he says.

Liebman's group is certainly organic. The fluid mix of Juris' chorused chording and guitar effects, the tone and lyricism of Marino's acoustic bass, and Marcinko's spry drumming took those in the Performance Hall into adventurous and invigorating sonic territory. Center stage is Liebman, shaping moments with fiery intensity. When it comes to passion, this man gives thesaurus writers a run for their money. Unhurried and relaxed at any tempo, he underscores the importance of developing your own sound by playing ballads.

"From a listener's standpoint, I feel that if I don't hear someone play a ballad in the course of their performance, I'm unsatisfied," he begins. "Lyrical tone demands sound, touch, breath control and intonation — skills you do not get when you're playing strong, fast and loud. It's something to be prized, and work on," he urges.

"Try to cultivate a tone, a sound," he says. "It's just like talking: nobody sounds like you or uses the same body expressions in the same way. It's your personality," he observes. "You do it everyday when you order coffee at Starbucks."

Citing a list of notable soprano saxophonists from Sidney Bechet to Wayne Shorter, Liebman goes farther, mentioning Kenny G. "The truth is that if you have an individual sound on your instrument, you have won the game. Regardless of idiom or style, it's something to be recognized and respected. It's something to strive for."

It's a provocative, "pin drop" moment that quickly turns into a well-rounded Q & A on topics such as music history, how to reharmonize jazz standards, odd-meter timekeeping, and the use and application of electronic effects.

Outside, the afternoon sun may be setting, but inside the hall the saxophonist is guiding the audience through a virtual tour of the Sahara as he launches "Dimi and the Blue Men," a composition inspired by a recent trip to Mauritania.

"When you perform something you wrote because of a place, that serves as the inspiration, the beginning of the voyage," he says afterward. "But it's not about where you stay, it's about where you go. So if you start in Mauritania and end up in Brooklyn, that's the point," he relates with a chuckle.

"That's the beauty of this process, the sense of discovery — the quest forth, searching, and walking on a tightrope," he says. Of his group, he adds, "I have them for a safety net, and the tune. These musicians are so good at what they do, they can take these chances and find their way home again."

It's this uncanny navigational ability the group will show later this evening in their sets at the Jazz Bakery, where, mingling with fans post-performance, Liebman praises LA Music Academy students at the earlier clinic for contributing "the best questions I've had in a long while."

Concluding his clinic at the Academy, Liebman thanks the audience and offers advice that should build alliances at the school for some time to come.

"Regardless of style, it's very important you form associations with the same musicians; there's an empathy that happens when musicians play together for a long time that's way beyond words."

To Dave Liebman, generous with his insights and knowledge, it's all in service of the story.