Oscar Peterson was my first serious introduction to jazz and over the years I have collected about 70 of his recordings. I have attended three live performances, unfortunately none when he was at the height of his technical powers. I first heard him at the Ravinia festival near Chicago a few years before his devastating stroke in 1993. In 1999 he brought his quartet to University of Minnesota's Northrop Auditorium, hardly an intimate setting for chamber jazz, but in retrospect, an adequate arena for an appreciative audience. At that time it was clear that Peterson had redirected some of his Tatumesque wizardry to a more lyrical, introspective approach, at least in part to compensate for a loss of power and dexterity in his left hand. The move from his legendary trio format to quartet was also in part a means of giving more support to the piano: "I use the quartet with guitar, bass, and drums more than anything now, which is the best of both worlds. You have all of the rhythmic impetus, plus the backing and counterpoint of the guitarist" (1995, Jazz Times). At Northrop, Peterson had significant difficulty walking on stage; yet when seated at the piano, he was still a physically as well as artistically commanding performer.

I would like to say that little has changed since 1999 but we are all five years older. At Minneapolis' Orchestra Hall on July 14th, the current edition of the Oscar Peterson Quartet seemed plagued by time in more ways than one. It was clear that Peterson, who turns 79 in August, has even more difficulty moving across the stage and he relied heavily on his fellow musicians for physical support. Worse, a computer meltdown backed up Northwest Airline flights throughout the nation that day, and the performance was consequently delayed an hour. This delay perhaps also pre-empted an adequate sound check, as the ensuing first set was marred by truly atrocious sound in a usually exemplary concert hall: From my seat in the middle of the main floor, the quartet generally sounded as if playing from a deep cave. Initially the piano was obscured by an over-amped guitar; the drums were obscured by everything else; the acoustic bass had all the subtlety and finesse of a deeply resonating freight train. In this mix it was a tribute to Peterson that he managed to bring soulful passion to at least some of the set, including his "Night Train" and "Requiem."

Major adjustments were made during intermission. Someone noted that the Steinway at Orchestra Hall was well known as the "worst Steinway" of any concert hall in the Twin Cities. Not a connoisseur of pianos, I can only say that nothing this night proved otherwise. However, the tune-up between sets, and the apparent reworking of the sound balance in general, came close to creating a decent mix for the second half of the program. Without the frustration of the first set's acoustic shortcomings, the listener more easily tuned in to what was happening on stage.

And while the second set may best represent the current status of the Oscar Peterson Quartet, more likely, the second set reflected the impact of travel delays and sound snafus on the well being and artistry of an aging legend. In many ways, Oscar Peterson is every bit the keyboard giant, even as he nears 80. His right hand remains (arguably) the most powerful and dexterous appendage of any living pianist, still capable of running up and down the keyboard in a quick blink, alternatingly producing thunderous chords or delicate lines. And Oscar Peterson one-handed can still out-perform many younger, two- handed musicians. But the stroke 11 years ago truly robbed Peterson and the jazz community of that often ornate, two- handed comping and soloing that had been his trademark for nearly five decades. Where in the past he might have filled every space using every digit, Peterson's left hand is now more of an accompanist, a second walking bass, only an occasional equal partner.

His other partners, at least in the second set, proved Peterson's continuing ability to identify and nurture a strong rhythm section. Niels-Henning Orsted Pedersen has been with Oscar Peterson Trios and Quartets for the better part of two decades, and offered strong solos and support throughout, although sometimes derailed in the first set by too much reverberation. Swedish guitarist Ulf Wakenius has been a consistent, complementary co-conspirator on many recordings and tours with Peterson as well as Orstad Pedersen in the past decade, his blues roots always visible. New to the group, veteran drummer Alvin Queen emerged in the second set as a steady presence, with occasional dashes of surprise.

With a better mix of the four instruments, the second set generally seemed more upbeat, from the opening majesty of "Wheatland" (from Peterson's "Canadiana Suite") to a rousing finale of  "Sweet Georgia Brown" that featured an exuberant give and take between Peterson and Wakenius. In between, there was good news and bad news: Good news in the exquisite rendition of Peterson's "Love Ballad" and the foursome's swinging collaboration on "Satin Doll;" bad news given that both tunes were repeated from the first set for no apparent reason. Peterson's introductions of the two pieces suggested that he had forgotten that these were covered earlier, and his bandmates seemed surprised by these selections. Peterson further seemed a bit confused by place and time, referring to his days at the London House as if he was in fact in Chicago now rather than Minneapolis.

These lapses aside, the second set was both a sonic and artistic improvement over the first, and the standing ovation (also repeated from the first set!) was a sincere tribute to Peterson's efforts, which this night were possibly as much a reflection of his will as his genius.

For information about the career and discography of Oscar Peterson, as well as his online journals, visit www.oscarpeterson.com/op/