[Dixielandjazz] Oscar Peterson interview on Individuality

[Nancy Giffin]

OSACAR PETERSON, Aug. 15, 1925 - Dec. 24, 2007

Dear list mates,

To honor the memory of Oscar Peterson,
I am again posting this interview he did with fellow Toronto musician
Jim Galloway for Wholenote Magazine in November 2002.
What an individual he was. May he rest in peace.
Here are two links to obituaries:
http://www.cbc.ca/arts/music/story/2007/12/24/obit-peterson-oscar.html
http://edition.cnn.com/2007/SHOWBIZ/Music/12/24/obit.peterson.ap/index.html

My best to everyone this holiday season, and may you enter 2008 with good
thoughts in mind to ease you through any hardships. Keep the jazz playing.

Love and hugs,
Nancy


INDIVIDUALITY 
Oscar Peterson in conversation with Jim Galloway

Oscar Peterson will be guest of honour and President's Award recipient
during the 3rd Annual Gala Dinner, hosted by Nancy Wilson, at the upcoming
IAJE conference in Toronto in early January. This interview with Oscar
Peterson took place in the relaxed atmosphere of his home in Mississauga,
November 19 2002.

J = Jim Galloway   O = Oscar Peterson

J: I hardly know where to begin, Oscar, because I doubt if there's a
Canadian in the arts who's received more honours, more decorations, more
awards than you have. So that made me wonder: when did you first realise
that you were special? There must have been a moment, there must have been
some time when you said "I've got something here..."

O: I think when my piano teacher said to me one day, "You know, I'm just
giving you some little things I think you're going to need, but you won't
need that much help because I think you know where you want to go."
And I think then it started to dawn on me that maybe I had something to say.

J: Knowing where you were going, where do you think jazz is going as a
music? 

O: I hope it's going to continue to develop without being outlandish; that's
the one fear I have because I have experienced this -- people that have come
into the jazz medium and, whether it's an ego trip or what, they figure
they're going to take it out in a different direction, and many times it's
so far afield from the original concept that I have a fear of it dying....
No one has the right to say they're taking jazz in one specific direction.
They're not heavy enough to do that. I don't believe that Ellington ever
thought that way. He was a contributor; he thought he was a contributor. And
that's the way I feel: I like to be a contributor (to its longevity,
hopefully). 

J: There's a lot of music out there today, Oscar, that I have trouble
calling Jazz. I tend to think of it as contemporary creative music, but I
don't really think it has the elements that, for me, are jazz.

O: No, that's the unfortunate part of it. You know, you get into the area of
people that don't have the musical credentials and background to really do
something worthy jazzwise, and so they start taking it in another direction
-- or so they try. You can't take jazz in another direction, you can only
give -- inject your own personality into it -- that's as far as you can go.
Dizzy was another contributor. Dizzy had a certain idea of how he would
play; he didn't think that he encompassed the whole jazz scene. That's the
problem with ego: it's an ego trip, isn't it, when someone says, "I'm
changing the face of jazz." You know, I've heard a lot of people that might
think that way. They're not going to change my belief in what I think jazz
should be. I think it's predicated on respect of what has gone before you
... When I sit down to play, I think of everybody from Fats Waller or Hank
Jones, right back to Cripple Clarence Lofton if you want, and I have respect
for that, and I will always have that respect.

J:  Do you have any goals that you're still striving for?

O: Perfection (laughs)... That still hangs over the whole thing...

J:  All the time... and you hope you never reach it.

O: Well, no, I'd like to reach it. I know I won't, but...

J: Then there's no place to go.

O: People always seem to think I want to have a big band at some point; I
don't. I like the small-group format. It's very personal, you know; it's
very close, and very warm and inspiring, and I think the transmission is
quicker in a small group than it is in a big band, emotionally speaking.

J: I find that, too. And the things you have done with the trio, well,
there's a magic in the air...

O: We had a unanimous growth together. A lot of work went into that. Not all
mine. Herbie (Ellis) and Ray (Brown), Ray and Ed (Thigpen), they'd practise
time, playing time for me, and Ray had a thing where he'd say "Let's turn up
the steam." And they had some kind of a signal going. They'd say, let's do
this for him now, let's do that for him. That's the beauty of jazz. ... I
started off classical, you know, and I'm not putting down classical music,
but  it's a different emotion for me. It's a totally different emotion for
me because it's a different transmission of the music that I'm looking at in
front of me, whereas the jazz end of it is my guts speaking, so to speak...

J: You're interpreting something, but in jazz you're actually making it...

O: You're making it happen with that particular tune at that particular
moment. I have a thing we did for Norman (Granz), with Milt (Jackson), Grady
(Tate), Ray and myself. It's called "Ain't But a Few Left," I think...
something like that -- how prophetic that is!  And there's a thing on there:
Norman loved the blues and he said, "Play some blues for me, you know, don't
get out there and kibitz around too much. Play some blues for us; whatever
you do, however you feel, you start." And I said okay. So we went into the
blues thing, and ... it's my favourite recording! It's my favourite
recording of Bags (Milt), it's my favourite recording of Grady, it's my
favourite recording of Ray, and I think it's the best solo I ever played in
my whole jazz history!

Roy Eldridge had come down just to hang out, and he was in the control room
with Norman, so when it was over, Norman said, "I had to collar Roy; he was
sitting there, he had his horn, and he said, 'I want a piece of this, I got
to have some of this,' and I said, you can't go out there!" (laughing)  It
was incredible. Roy got so excited at the groove we had going, he said, 'No,
got to have some. I don't care about the recording; I'm going out there,"
and  Norman said, "No, you're not!" and he grabbed him... but I think you
can feel that emotion in that recording.

J: I've got to get my hands on that one.

*** 

J: Is there anything you're intolerant of now, that gets to you?

O: Yeah, I don't like to get into this... I'm intolerant about what they
call music today. I think it's an insult, best I can say. I don't want to
get into any personalities. It's putrid; I'm sorry, it's putrid. I like to
see people get along, get ahead in the world, but because somebody has a
nice voice, it doesn't mean they should make an album right away, with no
experience with accompaniment or with a group. And all of a sudden, there
they are, getting albums put in the windows of record stores in New York and
everywhere else, and then I hear some of those so-called groups...that 
always amazes me; I have to say this, Jim: What happened that people stopped
taking responsibility for the group by saying, "This is the Oscar Peterson
Trio or the Jim Galloway Quartet"; why has it got to be The Naked Dead, or
some such thing? ... Nobody wants to be named!...It's true! What is that?
Are they worried about assassination or something? What is it? I hate that!

J: Well, maybe we're back to this whole business of identity, and that's
what's lacking. 

O: Yeah, true, but it's pitiful, you know; not only is it pitiful, it's
aggressive. I take aversion to it because I turn on the television to watch
a show and I got to listen to this junk in between an interview or segments
of a detective story or something. I hate this!

J: I know. Important to me: what's crushing, too, is that now CBC are doing
it underneath news items, and I'm thinking, what on earth is this coming to!
Do I have to listen to dinga-dinga-dinga when someone's telling me some
news? 

O: I'm a big critic to all of that stuff myself because... I won't call any
names... there's a station that has news, and it has a theme for the news;
it's got to be the worst music that I've ever heard written. Listen to the 6
o'clock theme on CTV; that's childish! When I think of the things
that...when you listen to CBS news with Dan Rather, it has a theme; right
away you know it's CBS, you know. Some of this other music... or they turn
on a sequencer and it's dgdgdgdgdgdgdg (imitates sequencer), you know, and I
say to myself, "I've got all kinds of instruments here that'll do that," and
I never use them; I never use a sequencer 'cause a sequencer is not a
player; it's not a human being.

J: Do you see this as a general downswing in public taste?

O: Oh yeah, definitely; they accept it.

J: Yeah well, of course. But if the powers that be strive for the lowest
common denominator, then that's what's going to happen.

O: That's what is happening.

J: Is it hard to be optimistic about the future?

O: I'm a believer there because of one thing individuality. There's always
someone out there that says, "No, I'm not going to do it that way."

J: That's very interesting because, you know, quite apart from what we're
doing just now, I've already been writing my regular piece for the magazine,
and it starts off saying, "You know what I miss? Individuality."

O: (laughs) J: (laughs)

O: OK, I won't say any more...

J: If it's not there, it withers.

O: Because it's been cloaked under what people like to call "new talent";
because they think it's new talent, it doesn't mean to say it's
individuality. Today, it only means they're making a louder sound and more
money. But I'm proud about several things: I'm proud that I can, thank God,
still walk out on the stage and have people not only applaud but stand up
and cheer... and it's not my own personal ego, it's because of the music.
That's the way I look at it. It's not me, and they're not just cheering
because it's a Bosendorfer piano; they're cheering because it's the medium,
it's the music they anticipate hearing. And I'm proud of that; I am. Jazz is
not forgotten. 

J: Another thing... technique is technique and you have such a command of
the instrument, but one of the things that I really love about what you do
is the wonderful talent you have for accompaniment. You can back a singer
like nobody else. And you have this wonderful ability to know when to use
the chops and when to leave spaces...

O: Do you want to know who my teacher was? It was Hank Jones.

J: It was Hank; OK.

O: Because the way the Jazz At The Phil things would work: the horns would
have the first set; there'd be an intermission; and then various small
groups -- Gene Krupa's group or whoever; my trio, and so on... And the
closing of the show would be Ella. And I'd sit in the wings, and Hank would
be right there, playing for Fitz (Ella), and I'd soak up whatever I could
'cause he taught me everything I know about it.

J: Which is a lot...

O: I unequivocally call him for that. I learned from Hank Jones. I'm not
ashamed to say that, I'm proud to say it. I only did what I learned; it's
that simple. That worked for Hank, and I said to myself, "That's a good
platform to work on; maybe it'll work for me," and that's what I did. Other
than that, you don't have to copy...

J: No!... 

O: It's a matter of influence; to me, there's a difference...

J: You pick up influences...

O: Influences: you soak them up, and it comes out with your personality on
it. 

J: Sure, that's what it's all about...

O: I think so... 

J: You know, there's not one of us who doesn't owe something -- hasn't been
influenced by what went on before us -- and I don't care who it is...
there's a little bit of Armstrong or Lester or Webster... It's there; it's
got to be. 

O: I used to insert at various times in my solos some of that -- I call it
doodling -- that Pres would do, when he'd go doo doo doo-doo, doo doo
d'doo-d'doo. I used to imitate that on the piano because it got to me and it
mesmerised me, the way he could make it work... And at times, I know I did
that, and if it's copying or cheating, or whatever you call it, that's the
way it influenced me. And he was one of my big influences also, because I
memorised (like a lot of other people probably have) his solo on "Sometimes
I'm Happy." The funny thing about it: I don't have any inhibition about
saying I learned such-and-such-a-person's solo. I can play you Nat's solo on
"Easy Listening Blues," I can play you Lester's "Sometimes I'm Happy," I can
play you numerous solos. I can sit there and sing them for you cause I
absorbed them in my growing up process. I'm not ashamed of that.

J: No, you shouldn't be. As a kid I learned the Teschemacher Chorus in
Indiana because there's this cool sounding saxophone, and I said, "What is
this? I've got to get inside what he's doing there!"

O: Well, that's the beauty of jazz. If you can instill that kind of lust for
getting inside the music, like you're talking about, then you're doing
something. 

J: Who else did you like to work with as a singer?

O: I loved -- I never got to play for her that much, but -- Carmen McCrae. I
loved playing for Carmen, and I'm trying to think of this other lady's
name... my memory's failing... she made a couple of records; she wasn't a
black lady... God... Jerry Southern!  Jerry Southern... I used to run into
Birdland, you know, when I'd be playing in Philly or something, and we'd
drive back to NY -- run back when she was there -- cause she was, to me, the
female Nat Cole. And the way she played for herself and everything else...

J: Smokey kind of quality to her voice...

O: Man, I loved her voice; I loved her...

J: Yeah, good one...

O: And the other one that really got to me was Clifford... What a talent.

J: I have a pet theory.

O: What's that? 

J: My pet theory is this: that the whole course of the music would have been
a little different if we had not lost, at such a young age, Clifford Brown,
Fats Navarro and, I can't think of his name... but especially Clifford. I
think the music would have retained a lyricism that got lost.

O: You know, what you're saying is getting to me, and why it won't leave
me... We closed somewhere (we used to drive in the early days); we were due
to open at the old Bluenote in Chicago, and so we drove in, went to bed, got
up the next morning, and I said, "I'm going over to the Bluenote to find out
who opens," cause it was our group and Clifford Brown's group, and I ran in
there. The chef was there; he said, "Oh, Mr. Peterson," I said, "I just came
over to find out who's opening. He said, "You are; Clifford's dead." That's
exactly the way he said it. He said, "You are; Clifford's dead." And I just
about died cause I was -- we were -- living for that "in person"; I had
never heard him in person ....

J: Oh, no... 

O: And Clifford's solo behind Sarah Vaughan, after Sarah Vaughan sang the
chorus of "April in Paris"?

J: Yes!... 

O: I use that to teach!

J: Oh, yes, that's a great chorus; I heard that just a couple of weeks ago.
It still blew me away.

*** 

J: Do you like to know the words to a tune (if it's a song with a lyric)?

O: I do try to learn them..... It became the thing where I would learn the
lyrics to a ballad, apart from just learning the harmonic and the melody,
because I loved the lyrics.

J: They help you to play the tune, too.

O: Oh, don't they though... I always recommend when I'm teaching: if you
have a chance, at least look at the lyrics, so you know where the tune is
supposed to be at. 

J: Have you ever thought that you might have done more singing?

O. Me? No, no more singing.

J. Oh, I don't know.

O. Normally, I can make some noise (laughter). Norman talked me into that; I
never had the nerve. My man was Nat Cole. You know he came in the club one
night and he said, "I'll make a bargain with you." I said, "What's that?" He
said ('cause he caught us on a hot night -- we had it together that
night)... He said, "If you give up singing, I won't play the piano." I said,
"Nat, that ain't going to work 'cause I want to hear you play the piano,
too." 

J. He was a monster!

O. Oh, please! Mr. Time. Whewwww! Gosh, he was a beautiful man. He was a
talent. One time we had a hang-out session not far from here. I don't know
if you remember the Brandt Inn in Burlington -- what was the owner's name? I
used to know it; he called me and invited me out, and I was working, so I
rushed out there. And at 4:30 in the morning, his wife had to come down and
get him -- we were still at the piano! He was a beautiful guy. God, how I
loved him. It set me back when he disappeared.

*** 

O. I still have to learn some of Duke's tunes. There was one I played while
Duke was on tour with us. They were breaking down the show, loading the bus
with instruments and things, and I sat down at the piano 'cause I was
waiting around. I started to play something, and Duke came and sat down
beside me. He said, "That's a nice tune. Is that yours?" "No," I said, "No,
it's yours." (Jim laughs.) He said, "Nah." I said, "Come on, Duke, that's
your tune." He said, "Are you kiddin' me?" - "Lady of the Lavender Mist." He
had forgotten it! I said, "You don't remember writing that tune?" He said
"Yeah, I don't think about those things. Once you write them, you know, I
don't have to worry about that one, I worry about the next one I'm goin' to
do." You know. 

J. One of the things I sometimes sort of regret about the direction that the
music sometimes seems to go in:  We mentioned the word lyricism earlier --
the beauty, you know, what happened?

O. I don't know. One of the reasons I love Hank Jones is the way he plays
ballads. It hurts me that he's not even known, even by some players. You
say, "Hank Jones," they say "Who?" This man is a genius; unbelievable. He
had the one thing my piano teacher used to drill into me; she said, "You
touch the piano with love, it will love you back." You must have that touch.
I'd play things for him, and he'd say, "No, no, no, no. It's all wrong. Play
it again." Hank has that naturally -- raindrops, when he plays a ballad.

J. I think in your book you mention something like a single drop of rain to
describe a note. 

O. Yeah. Raindrops. God, he's a beautiful player.

J: A lot of people in jazz education are going to read the piece in the
magazine. What  do you feel about jazz colleges -- colleges that offer jazz
courses. How do you teach jazz?

O: Well, what do I feel about the courses? It depends on the faculty,
doesn't it, because on the one hand -- you know we had a school for a while
-- if you're gonna have people like Ray Brown and Hank Jones teaching,
you're gonna turn out some wonderful students; but if you have people who
have all the theories that they can't even live up to, then that's another
thing, isn't it. So, I don't buy the total educational scene, jazzwise,
because I've heard various people in their teaching seminars where I've
almost done this, you know: (pretends to fall asleep).... I think you have
to have real credentials. In jazz, you don't get a diploma; you have to go
out there and be able to do what you're trying to tell them to do.

J: That's one thing, and also you've got to be able to impart a sense of
awareness. Any time that I've been in front of young people interested in
music, one of the things I say is: the most important thing you can do is to
listen. 

O: Oh, yeah, listen is number one -- to use these ears. The minute I go to
hear a group today, any group -- small group I'm talking about -- if I don't
hear that cohesiveness telling me that they know they're in the same group
and that they're playing for each other, I lose interest.

J: If you had a piece of advice to give to somebody who had eyes for being
in the business, what would you say, apart from "Don't" (laughs).

O: I would use one word: integrity. Don't lose your integrity. It's very
easy to do that, Jim, if you think about it. Once you give up the integrity,
then I think you can give up trying to project any talent you may have
because there are certain things (again, thanks to Norman primarily paving
the way in some ways)... there are certain things I wouldn't acquiesce to
do; I'd say "no." I won't call any names... there are a couple of
instances... I was called upon to do an album with a lady that sings -- I
won't mention any names -- and they offered me an awful lot of money. And I
said, "I don't want to hurt her feelings, but... I'm not available. Just
tell her -- don't get into a thing! -- just tell her I'm not available."
'Cause there was no way that would work; she's not a jazz singer. And the
other thing is: money. Money does a lot of things; I love money, being in
that groove in the hobby thing (points at Don Vickery's cameras), I know
what it costs to do that, but you can't let that poison your incentive.

J. Well, the one thing that shines through in the past hour or so, you know,
Oscar, is: the love is still there -- the love that keeps the music going.

O. Oh listen, that's the way it is! Going to be until they put me down
under. You know, I love music, and I love jazz. I don't know about concepts
and "how many albums did you sell?" and so on. It doesn't mean anything to
me. I just want to know that I know people who can play in a manner that
makes me react. That's all I care about. The rest of it, I don't care about.
Say what they want, do what they want.

My own explanation of jazz, when they ask me, "What is it?" they ask me, and
I say, "It's instant composition." That is the only thing I can say that
puts it in their lingo. That's the way I look at it. Classical music you're
playing to a certain written format, as you know, but jazz: somebody plays a
chord and some tune behind you, and you have to do something with that --
immediately. And that's the name of the game.