Those who know me as the in-house composer at Baker Sound may not be aware that I also perform regularly as a keyboardist. Throughout the ‘90s I was a fixture in the Atlantic City showrooms, backing the popular entertainers of the ‘50s, ‘60s, and ‘70s. I got to play with lots of celebrities, though none more well known and influential than Aretha Franklin. I don’t recall the exact date of my first performance with the Queen of Soul, but I’ll never forget the gig.

The routine for showroom work was always the same: an afternoon rehearsal to run through the charts would be followed by evening performances over the next several days. I didn't feel any special need to prepare since this particular Aretha show was only a single performance and I was generally familiar with her material. This turned out to be my first mistake.

The concert would be held in the Adrian Phillips Theater at Boardwalk Hall, so I was happy when the contractor called to inform me that the act would provide keyboards for me to use. Lugging gear in and out of enormous venues like the old Convention Center is a hassle, and I assumed that the provided keyboards would be pre-programmed with all of the sounds needed for the show. This turned out to be my second mistake.

I was naturally thrilled to have an opportunity to perform with such an iconic artist. Unfortunately, my excitement quickly turned to anxiety when I arrived at the venue and discovered that things were not as I had expected. The rented keyboards were outdated models with only their factory default sounds in place. To make matters worse, Aretha's synth “book” mostly consisted of tattered, hand-sketched chord charts with little indication of what sounds to use or what notes to play.

I was nearly in a panic as the rehearsal began. Although I had played many Aretha hits on gigs, I didn’t know offhand, for example, the string lines for “Natural Woman” or the record-correct organ part for “Respect.” With no proper charts to guide me I’d have to fake everything, using whatever keyboard presets were on hand. I worried that Aretha’s longtime conductor, H. B. Barnum, would spend the entire rehearsal correcting me while world-class musicians like drummer Bernard Purdie waited impatiently, but to my surprise “H” (as he was affectionately known) was less detail-oriented than I had imagined and barely seemed to notice what I was doing. “Oh well,” I thought, “if the conductor doesn’t have any complaints, then I’m just going to do the best I can and not beat myself up about it.” It was, after all, only one night.

Fifteen minutes before show time I went to the stage to confirm that my charts and patches were in order. With everything ready to go, I was taking a moment to survey the sold-out theater when I noticed a couple of stage techs wheeling a Hammond organ onto the stage ten feet in front of my position. The next thing I knew the announcer was asking the audience to welcome Billy Preston! I wasn’t aware that there would be an opening act, or that Billy was in the building. Over the next thirty minutes I watched in awe as he whipped the crowd into a frenzy with his soulful playing. He literally had them dancing in the aisles without singing a single note. I had never before seen a solo keyboardist generate that level of excitement. It was nothing short of breathtaking.

I was still reeling from Billy’s set when Aretha’s background singers—who had not participated in our rehearsal—began to file onto the stage with Billy among them! Billy took the stool next to me so that I was now shoulder-to-shoulder with one of the most renowned R&B keyboardists in the world. And here I am about to fake my way through Aretha Franklin classics using crappy synth-organ sounds. I was suddenly mortified, self-conscious, and uncharacteristically nervous.

But the show went fine. Aretha was amazing, and hearing her live for the first time was magical. The highlight, for me, was when she went to the piano to sing “Bridge Over Troubled Water.” Her extended, gospel-infused turn on the Simon and Garfunkel classic transformed an already exceptional evening into what I can best describe as a religious experience. It was a master class in the power of music to inspire. And Billy was encouraging throughout the concert, smiling and offering an approving “yeah, man” whenever I played something he liked. After the show he generously complimented my playing, though of course we both knew that I had been faking it.

I took two important lessons from the experience. First, I resolved to use my own keyboards on all future gigs. Second, I vowed that I would prepare for every gig by reviewing the artist’s material, just in case their charts weren’t entirely clear.

I doubted that I’d ever work with Aretha again, but the following summer I was booked for a series of her performances at Harrah’s and took the opportunity to make up for past mistakes. Writing my own charts and having the correct patches in my keyboards made things go much more smoothly and got the attention of Aretha’s new rhythm section, who asked if I would be available for some performances in other cities. I was flattered and felt vindicated, but was forced to decline due to my obligations at Baker Sound. I did go on to play many more shows with Aretha in Atlantic City throughout the ‘90s and early 2000s, and always came away with the sense that she'd given her all. Yet none of them topped that night at the Convention Center; despite my struggles it was one of those rare occassions when the stars align and the right audience meets the right performers at just the right moment in time.

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