Performing with Aretha
Re Aretha Franklin, ‘Queen of Soul’, dies at her home in Detroit at age 76, Aug. 16
On the afternoon of September 16, 2010 — it was a Thursday — I was working in my studio when the phone rang. It was Guido Basso. He had just finished rehearsing with Aretha Franklin at Casino Rama for that night’s show. Aretha’s second keyboard player, who hadn’t been able to get across the Canadian border, was having a bad day; I was about to have an unforgettable one.
Guido asked me, “Are you free? Are you paid up? Do you have a black suit?” Yes, yes and yes. “Good. You’re playing with Aretha Franklin tonight.”
There was no time to freak. In 70 minutes flat, I was onstage inspecting music and locating appropriate synthesizer sounds. That’s when the Queen of Soul came over and shook my hand, thanking me for getting there so fast. I advised her to thank me afterwards, if I got away with it. She laughed.
I got into music as a kid in 1971, the year of “Rock Steady,” “Spanish Harlem” and “You’re All I Need to Get By.” Now, I was taking the stage with the voice of those hits, the most spinetingling voice in the history of soul. On my home turf, too — thanks to Aretha’s fear of flying, Toronto had always been one of her most frequent tour stops. She lived in Detroit, about four hours away by car.
Bang. The lights came on, the crowd erupted. I have to confess that much of the night was a blur. Legendary songs went by at breakneck pace. “Respect.” “Think.” “Chain of Fools.” “Natural Woman.” Thing is, when you’re the guy sight-reading with no rehearsal, you don’t have time to bask. You’re always one unfocused moment away from busting out a highly audible mistake.
Fortunately, I would get another crack at drinking it all in when Aretha headlined the Toronto Jazz Festival less than a year later. That night on the bandstand, I was relaxed, and ready to soak in any perfect moment that might come my way. Oh boy, did it come.
Mid-show, Aretha moved to the grand piano to accompany herself. Her piano bench was maybe three feet from my keyboard rig. Unaccompanied, with me over her shoulder, the Queen launched into a stunning, fromthe-gut rendition of “Bridge Over Troubled Water.”
The world stopped. The droplets of humidity seemed suddenly motionless. It all felt, in a word, sacred. To be that close to that legend, that force of nature, THAT VOICE, in full flight — well, I’ll never forget it. I get goosebumps thinking about it. Don Breithaupt, Santa Monica, Calif.