Montreal — make that the world — has lost a jazz giant. A gentle jazz giant at that.
Oliver Jones died Wednesday night at 91 after a lengthy illness. There were few more gifted and there were few more humble than Jones. He made magic on the piano with such ease and alacrity, and yet he would forever protest he was not in the same keyboard orbit as his mentor, fellow Little Burgundy native and buddy Oscar Peterson.
Let’s just say they were both among the grandest masters of their craft.
But there was something else with Jones: He was always there, be it to offer his mentoring services to up-and-coming musicians or to tickle the ivories for countless charitable causes, or to spearhead his own fundraisers for youth groups through his annual golf tournament. Indeed, if Jones had any regrets at all, it wasn’t about losing his touch on the keyboards — which he never really did, even into his 90th year. No, it was that he felt he had lost his touch on the golf course and wasn’t able to replicate his early feats — like when he was able to nearly score his age in his 80s.
But put him near a piano, and he just couldn’t resist. In a 2022 interview at Christ Church Cathedral, where Jones was conscripted to talk about the Montreal jazz fest, he told me — as he often did when we talked — his playing days were well behind him: “I’m about to turn 88. Tough to play ‘the 88′ at 88.”
Evidently not. What was supposed to be a simple photo op at the piano turned into a brief but mesmerizing concert. Jones was transfixed, returning to his form of yesteryear. It was no accident the tune he so deftly performed was Peterson’s Hymn to Freedom.
Jazz pianist Oliver Jones sits at a grand piano in his home in Côte-St-Luc on Oct. 4, 2016. With more than two dozen albums to his credit and two massive murals of his likeness overlooking his Montreal roots, Jones took home numerous Juno and Félix awards. Phil Carpenter
Jones recalled then, as he had done before, the most memorable evening of his life took place at the 2004 jazz fest, when he hooked up with his hero to play the same tune in one of the then-ailing Peterson’s final performances.
“It was like a dream come true,” recalled Jones, flashing his trademark sheepish grin. “I’ll never forget that night. Without Oscar and his sister, my teacher Daisy (Peterson Sweeney), I would never have achieved whatever success I’ve had. They believed in me and pushed me to places I never imagined I would ever get to.”
Jones was all of five years old when he started playing piano. “The Peterson family had such a great influence on me,” he said in that 2022 interview. “Daisy brought me the world with all the classical studies that I did with her. And among my earliest memories was listening to Oscar — who only lived 12 doors from me — in the back row at the Union United Church. The power and the size of his hands were something. And I just fell in love with jazz.
“Some say they can hear a bit of Oscar come out in me, and I’m so thankful for that. People might think I don’t want to be considered playing like Oscar, but I say I’m thrilled. He was the greatest pianist in the world.”
Oliver Jones and Ranee Lee perform at the Montreal International Jazz Festival in 2005. MON
Regardless, even in alleged retirement, Jones was viewed by many as Canada’s premier jazz pianist. With more than two dozen albums to his credit and two massive murals of his likeness overlooking his city roots, Jones took home numerous Juno and Félix awards. He was an officer of the Order of Canada, a chevalier in the Ordre national du Québec, and a recipient of a Governor General’s Performing Arts Award and the Oscar Peterson Award, the latter given by the jazz fest to recognize exceptional contributions to this country’s jazz scene.
But also credit Justin Time Records founder Jim West for spotting the mega-talent that was Jones and helping to make the world aware of him. Jones cut 26 discs with Justin Time over the decades. West was 28 and Jones 49 when they first met. They were almost inseparable ever since, be it in a recording studio or simply hanging out together at concerts or dinners.
West was much aware of the health struggles Jones was enduring over the last few months, but he was nonetheless devastated upon learning of the pianist’s death.
“He had been in and out of hospital in the last few months, but he never complained,” West said Thursday morning. “But then again, he rarely complained about anything. He was almost 92 — that’s a good life. A great life in his case.
“We had so many terrific memories together. Where to begin? We were friends for nearly 45 years. We travelled the world together. He was such a gem. I got spoiled with that guy. He was our first artist signing, and I thought everyone was like that.
“Not quite, no,” West chuckles. “He was so special … never thought about himself. He always thought about the younger generation. That was so key to him, that artists would come out in the future. He wanted to help them get a good start.”
Oliver Jones performs at Place des Arts on July 10, 2004. John Morstad / Montreal Gazette
West also credits Jones for helping him build his label. Justin Time Records began innocently enough, with former Mahogany Rush roadie West deciding to record Jones live at the downtown jazz club Biddles.
“I owe so much to Oliver. He really helped get the label going by talking me up to his friends.”
Those friends included the likes of Peterson, Diana Krall, Ranee Lee, Susie Arioli, David Clayton-Thomas, the Montreal Jubilation Gospel Choir, Matt Herskowitz and Paul Bley. Those musicians — along with guitar virtuoso Frank Marino’s Mahogany Rush, among other notables — are featured on the album 40 Years of Justin Time Records, released three years ago.
An undated publicity photo of Montreal jazz pianist Oliver Jones. Handout / Gazette file photo
It should be noted Jones, as well as West, had ample opportunity to move to potentially greener musical pastures, but always chose to remain in his hometown.
“It’s the pride we have in Montreal and the many artists for whom this is home that keep us here,” Jones said in a 2023 interview at the Upstairs Jazz Bar to mark the 40th anniversary of Justin Time with West. “My music is born from Montreal, as was that of my neighbour Oscar Peterson and his sister and my teacher, Daisy Peterson Sweeney. Montreal will always be home.”
Jones happened to be seated in front of a piano on the Upstairs mini-stage that day. And although he insisted he hadn’t played the piano in months, much like he had asserted at Christ Church Cathedral a year earlier, Jones broke out into an absolutely inspired rendering of — you guessed it — Peterson’s Hymn to Freedom.
Once again, he blew away everyone in the room.
After which the beaming Jones chirped: “I’m still retired.”
Right.
“Truth is, he never really lost his touch,” West says now. “But apart from his musical talent, he was just a huge, wonderful human being. And that doesn’t come in that package very often.”
Oliver Jones was truly one of a kind.
He is survived by his longtime partner, Monique Leclerc, and his son, Richard Jones. Funeral arrangements have yet to be made.