In purely technical terms, Oscar Peterson was the outstanding jazz pianist of his generation. His remarkable dexterity and urgent sense of swing ensured him a huge international following. Even in the twilight years of his career, people who would otherwise rarely attend jazz concerts were willing to pay Royal Opera House-style prices for the privilege of hearing him perform.

Like that other commercial phenomenon, Dave Brubeck, he was the subject of intense critical debate. While his admirers marvelled at his virtuosity, his detractors found his work ostentatious and lacking in emotion. Miles Davis — a musician whose spare style was the antithesis of Peterson’s — summed up the case for the prosecution in a 1958 interview: “Nearly everything he plays, he plays with the same degree of force. He leaves no holes for the rhythm section.” If Davis’s taste leaned more in the direction of the arch-minimalist, Ahmad Jamal, Peterson commanded the respect of countless pianists and students of jazz.

Oscar Emmanuel Peterson was the fourth of five children born to West Indian immigrants who had settled in Montreal. His father, a railway porter, was also a self-taught organist, and insisted that his offspring should learn music. With the exception of Peterson’s eldest brother, who died in his teens, all the children were to become professional musicians.

Peterson began playing the trumpet at the age of 5, but abandoned the instrument after being stricken with tuberculosis. He then concentrated on learning classical piano, but his interest in jazz intensified after he heard an intricate recording of Tiger Rag by the American pianist Art Tatum. Nat “King” Cole was to be another of his role models. At 14, Peterson won a talent contest on a radio show, and eventually went on to play with a number of dance orchestras. His most important early experience was a five-year spell with one of Canada’s most popular swing bands, the Johnny Holmes Orchestra. During this period he formed his first trio. He made his recording debut on RCA Victor in 1944 with the single, I Got Rhythm.

His international career was launched in 1949 when he was taken under the wing of the impresario Norman Granz, who later went on to launch the hugely influential Verve label. Granz had signed up the young virtuoso for his travelling showcase, Jazz at the Philharmonic, and when the troupe — which included Ella Fitzgerald and Coleman Hawkins — gave a concert at Carnegie Hall, Peterson made a surprise appearance after being summoned on stage. Invited by Granz to “play whatever you like for as long as you like”, the newcomer won a standing ovation.

Peterson would perform with JatP throughout the Fifties. The experience brought him fully into the public eye, though some critics have since wondered whether the competitive atmosphere of the concerts had a beneficial effect on a musician whose style was not yet fully matured. Influenced by the example of Cole, he formed a drummerless piano, guitar and bass trio in 1952, alongside his friend Ray Brown and Cole’s former guitarist Irving Ashby.

Ashby was soon replaced by Barney Kessel, who in turn gave way to Herb Ellis. Peterson kept the group together until 1958. The empathy which existed between the three men is conveyed on a vibrant live recording at the Shakespeare Festival at Stratford, Ontario, in 1956. “I almost didn’t want to stop to call the tunes,” Peterson said later. “I was afraid of breaking the spell.”

1956 was also the year of Tatum’s death and Peterson was left as his acknowledged musical heir. Arguably his most authoritative phase was to begin two years later, after Ellis’s place was taken by the drummer Ed Thigpen. In the torrent of albums that followed (in his heyday Peterson was capable of issuing half a dozen records in a year), among the most popular were West Side Story and Night Train. The latter, in particular, was drenched in the spirit of the blues, Peterson working up a phenomenal head of steam on the title number, a tune that was also to become part of the repertoire of the soul singer, James Brown.

After Brown and Thigpen’s departure in 1966, Peterson continued to work with trios, his sidemen including the bassist Niels-Henning Ørsted Pedersen and the superb British drummer Martin Drew. In the early Seventies he also shifted towards solo performances, intrigued by the challenge of exploring denser harmonic textures. The format had its adherents, even though other listeners were less than enamoured of Peterson’s Tatum-like cascades of notes.

Some felt that he was, in fact, at his most impressive as an accompanist, ranging from the early performances with Lester Young, Stan Getz and Ben Webster to the clutch of mid-career dates for Granz’s Pablo label. The latter included sessions with Dizzy Gillespie and Roy Eldridge. He was at his most insouciant on the popular Fifties duets recorded by Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong.

Alhough he recorded less prolifically towards the end of his life, Peterson continued to tour. In 1990 he was reunited with Brown and Ellis for performances in the US and Japan. The Telarc recording made at the Blue Note in New York in February that year found the group skimming effortlessly through Honeysuckle Rose and Sweet Georgia Brown.

By this time Peterson’s ample figure was even bulkier than before. His dexterity, however, was as startling as ever, although he was known to suffer from arthritis.

In 1993 he was plunged into turmoil. Having been named the recipient of the Glenn Gould Prize — awarded by the foundation set up in memory of the Bach virtuoso — Peterson was laid low by a stroke. (Gould himself had died as the result of one a decade earlier.) Despite fears that he might never play again, Peterson underwent extensive physical therapy. Movement in his left hand remained severely restricted, but when he did return to the concert stage, arriving on stage in a wheelchair, it was with a technique which, understandably enough, created a more pensive ambience. His guitarist Lorne Lofksy — a more angular player than Ellis had been — generated striking harmonic and rhythmic contrasts.

After a hiatus, the flow of recordings continued, although at a more moderate pace. Highlights included a meeting with the grandmasters Benny Carter and Clark Terry on the 1995 album, The More I See You. Three years later Peterson was paired with one of the finest young pianists on the circuit, Benny Green (not to be confused with his namesake, the British musician and critic). Green made no secret of the debt he owed to Peterson; nor did the best-selling singer-pianist Diana Krall, who was to emerge as the new figurehead of Canadian jazz.

Peterson remained fiercely loyal to his Canadian roots. One of his best known compositions was the Canadiana Suite (1964), a collection of pieces inspired by the country’s landscape and heritage. In 2005 he became the first living person, other than a reigning monarch, to appear on a Canadian commemorative stamp.

Oscar Peterson’s first three marriages — to Lillie Fraser, Sandra King and Charlotte Huber — ended in divorce. He is survived by his fourth wife, Kelly, by whom he had a daughter, Celine. He had six other children from his first and third marriages.

Oscar Peterson, jazz pianist, was born on August 15, 1925. He died on December 23, 2007, aged 82