Creativity Quote by Oscar Peterson

Peterson is rejecting the polite fiction that the piano is really two instruments in a trench coat: left hand for dutiful accompaniment, right hand for the “real” story. When he talks about using the entire piano as a single instrument, he’s making a technical claim and a cultural one. Technically, it points to his signature approach: orchestral voicings, stride-inflected bass movement, inner lines that sing, and a right hand that doesn’t just solo over changes but converses with the whole keyboard. The “entire piano” isn’t about range for its own sake; it’s about integration. Harmony, rhythm, melody, and timbre are one system, not a hierarchy.

The subtext is ambition without apology. Jazz pianists are often judged in compartments: taste versus flash, swing versus sophistication, accompaniment versus virtuosity. Peterson argues those are false binaries. If the bandstand is missing a horn section, he’ll imply it. If the groove needs to deepen, he’ll build it from the bottom up. He’s claiming total responsibility for the sound.

Context matters: Peterson came up in an era when jazz piano was evolving fast, from Art Tatum’s maximalism to Bud Powell’s bebop linearity, then into the cool-school economy and later modal spaciousness. Peterson’s statement places him firmly on the side of fullness, but not as empty bravura. It’s a defense of virtuosity as meaning: velocity as joy, density as storytelling, power as a kind of generosity to the listener. The piano, in his hands, isn’t accompaniment. It’s an entire band with a pulse.