It’s funny – I’ve really
enjoyed reading through a lot of the stuff that’s been posted here, even
though I may not necessarily have an interest in some of the subject
matter. For instance, Si Hart’s feelings on Crowded House were a joy to
read, even though they are a group whose name is only slightly familiar to
me but no more than that. On the wider issue, I have little or no interest
in any contemporary popular music, yet I still enjoyed Si’s column, if
you’ll pardon the Freudian. Therefore, to test my theory that people can
enjoy reading about something even though they may not have a great
interest in the subject matter, I have decided to elaborate on my own
musical ‘God’, namely Oscar Peterson.
I won’t labour upon the genre of jazz music itself, as I’m sure that most
of you reading this will have been exposed to at least a small amount of
jazz at some point in your lives, so I will instead try and impart the
emotion and sense of awe that a virtuoso instrumentalist can bring to your
life – or more specifically, mine!
The Collins English Dictionary gives the definition of virtuoso as ‘A
consummate master of musical technique and artistry.’ I’d second that,
although I may offer the slightly more long winded description of virtuoso
as someone who can do just about anything that can be done with a musical
instrument and even a few things that you thought couldn’t be done. I was
trying to think of some contemporary musicians who, as far as I’m aware,
are or were virtuosos on their instruments. I’m thinking here of the likes
of Marc Knopfler, Eric Clapton, and Jimi Hendrix, though the fact that
they are/were all guitarists is coincidental. Oscar Peterson, however, is
a jazz pianist, and got his first big break in 1949. He was, at that stage
of his life, 24 years old, and the rest has certainly made its indelible
mark in history, as he has literally not stopped since. Now at the age of
78 and reliant on a wheelchair to get around most of the time, he’s still
playing gigs and touring around the world, albeit in reduced circumstances
due to age and ill health. It’s difficult to describe the joy and sheer
jaw-dropping disbelief of ability that a musician of Oscar’s stature can
bring unless you ‘dig’ what jazz is all about, so I think I may have my
work cut out here, but I’m going to try my hardest to give you an idea.
I’m a musician of sorts, to the point where I’ve played trumpet in a jazz
group for the last 10 years with varying degrees of success. I wouldn’t
describe myself as a virtuoso by any means, but where I’ve had certain
shortcomings with technical ability, my mind is perhaps slightly more
tuned in a musical sense. I don’t wish to sound like a musical snob, but
musicians can’t help but appreciate other musicians’ work in a different
way to Joe Public, who may not have any musical ability but still knows
what he likes. In a way the musician is at a slight disadvantage, as he
tends to pick apart a piece of music into its component parts and then
judge the piece purely on its technical merit and the ability of the
instrumentalist, vocalist or composer. Joe Public, on the other hand,
simply likes or loves a piece of music because he does. To quote the Sixth
Doctor, “I don’t know much about art, but I know what I like!” One of my
favourite proverbs, and whilst not a Doctor Who original, it sums up the
gut feeling of really liking something even though you can’t actually put
it into words. So perhaps my love of Oscar is purely down to one merely
competent musician being in complete awe of another whose sheer technical
mastery surpasses anything that Mr Competent could dare to dream of
achieving? Actually, no.
As much as I’m able to appreciate the technical skill of his piano playing
from a musician’s point of view, Oscar Peterson’s music also does
something for me emotionally. I’m generally an emotional sort of guy, and
I can get very silly about little things which others would, I’m sure,
find quite sad. For instance, I bawled my eyes out towards the end of
watching ET in the cinema back in 1982, but I was 10 years old at the
time. I also blubbed all the way through the marriage ceremony at my
sister’s wedding because I was so overjoyed for her, but on that
particular occasion I was 24 years old. Are you starting to get the
picture now? Yes, I thought you would be. You can appreciate, then, that I
can get very emotional about lots of things, and especially about music.
Listening to Oscar is one of my favourite pastimes, as I feel such
affection for both the man and his music. He can make me cry and smile
with joy at the same time.
There are some Jazz musicians whose style sits within the Bop, Modern and
Avant-Garde genre of Jazz who are undoubtedly technical virtuosos on their
respective instruments, but in my mind their delivery of their talent is
clinical, tasteless and downright unlistenable. This is all down to a
matter of choice, of course, as a lot of people prefer this hard modern
style of jazz, but I for one don’t find it relaxing. If you can’t relax
and sink into a piece of music, however clever it is on a technical level,
it ceases to become an enjoyable experience, and almost ceases to be
classified as music at all. Oscar Peterson, however, whilst having talent
and technical ability in abundance, delivers his music in such a way that
it can be enjoyed by both the man on the street and the appreciative
musician alike. Oscar can, like the best of the hard modern jazz
musicians, deliver a million different notes at a million miles an hour if
he so wishes, but he manages to make the sequence a genuine musical
experience, rather than a mass of unrelated notes in quick succession.
It’s very much like the difference between some of what is classified as
modern art, which I also find clinical, abstract and rather tasteless, and
one of the impressionist artists, for instance. I’m not an art lover
myself, and consequently no expert on the subject, but I’d easily be able
to look at Monet’s work for instance, and say to myself, ‘That’s lovely –
really beautiful’ and then turn to an example of Jackson Pollack and
remark something along the lines of ‘What the hell’s that all about,
then?’ Oscar also has the ability, within the same piece of music, to play
the most delicate and emotional phrase that can almost bring a tear to the
eye, and then go on to deliver the entire spectrum of shades and emotions
between the two points. But most importantly of all, Oscar swings. He
swings with such force than it can almost knock you off your feet. I’m
not, as some of you may imagine, referring to wife swapping, but to his
unerring sense of rhythm, regularity and punch, all intertwined with his
distinctive musical voice that combines to create a thing of pure magic.
One of my favourite phrases in describing my favourite jazz musicians is
‘He (or she) swings like the clappers’, and Oscar Peterson does this in
spades. It’s unfortunate that in some respects, Oscar Peterson’s musical
style has become a victim of its own success. If you go into a wine bar or
cocktail lounge anywhere in the world and there is either a solo pianist
or jazz trio playing, it’s highly likely that they will be trying to
emulate that particular side of Oscar’s style, which has almost become
what Ace would describe as ‘lift music’. However, as long as I’m still
aware that it was he who created that sound and that style, all I can
think is that I’m not the only one who appreciates it.
I think the fact that I’m a musician is part of the reason that I’m not
over keen on contemporary popular music, as 99% of music these days is
vocally led. Boyf is always telling me about some lyrics or other from
some song by some artist or other which are really clever and nice, and I
say ‘Yeah, yeah’, but I don’t like the song because I don’t like the
music. To me, Jazz, and Oscar in particular, can instil just as much love
and emotion that the most beautiful set of lyrics can do in any genre of
music. And a lot of people like to dance to Jazz, but I don’t like dancing
nor am I any good at it. When I’m listening to a particularly swinging
piece of Oscar’s music, as well as all the enjoyment that my brain is
experiencing, I just can’t help but tap my foot on the floor in time to
the beat, or tap my hand on the side of the armchair, or the steering
wheel, or the gearlever, or something – anything – just so that I can
connect myself with something in relation to what he’s doing with the
tempo of the song.
I stated earlier that I had my work cut out picking a subject like this
and trying to make it generally interesting to people who aren’t Jazz
fans. I have tried as best I can to describe the enjoyment that I get from
listening to Oscar’s music, but it’s almost impossible to do it without
having you listen to some of it yourself. However, I can’t make you do
that, but what I can do is suggest what the Oscar experience is like by
recalling the piano intro to Nat King Cole’s Let There Be Love. It’s a
fairly recognisable tune which is used a lot on television, particularly
with anything to do with romance, St Valentines Day, etc. and was also
used a few years back on a series of television adverts for British Lamb.
It’s not actually Oscar playing on that particular recording, but as it’s
in a similar vein, hopefully this has instilled something familiar into
your heads and you’ll have some idea of what I’ve been blabbering on
about. If you’re not familiar with it, then I still hope I’ve managed to
convey some my enjoyment of the great man.
Next time you happen to be talking to someone who’s Jazz fan, ask them
about Oscar Peterson. They may not be a particular fan of his, as some
people aren’t, but if they are, it’s highly likely that they will be very
enthusiastic in trying to impart their enjoyment of his music. If you
manage to get the chance to listen to some of Oscar’s music, give a little
thought to the fact that this is a man who has been at the very top of his
profession for over 50 years, yet has suffered from arthritis in his
fingers since he was a teenager and still spent hours practising to
achieve his musical objectives. He also had a fairly major stroke in the
early 1990’s, yet I saw him in concert in 1995 and was as gob-smacked at
his talent as I would have been 30 or 40 years earlier.
Oscar Peterson – the last of a bygone generation - still playing, still
recording, still composing, still swinging, and still bringing an
enjoyable tear to my eye.
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