Greg Lake - the most beautiful voice in rock music.
And an incomparable songwriter, musician - and extraordinarily nice guy. Greg went out of his way to talk to and help three teenagers, at the height of ELP’s fame.
The first time I saw Emerson, Lake and Palmer, in 1972, I was 15, my brother was 16; he brought me and a friend early in the day to wait outside the loading dock at the San Francisco Civic Auditorium, hoping to watch the equipment load-in and listen to ELP’s sound check.
To our delight, Keith, Greg, and Carl arrived and entered at the loading dock.
Keith got out of the limo first, and as he strode by, my brother greeted him, “Good evening, Mr. Emerson.” Keith gave us a suspicious frown and kept walking. (If you see pictures of Keith from the 1970s, you’ll probably see some with the same suspicious frown he gave us.)
After Keith walked by, my brother clapped his hand to his face and berated himself, “What an idiotic thing to say: ‘Good evening, Mr. Emerson.’ It’s two in the afternoon.”
Then Carl and Greg came out of the limo, and they stopped and talked with us. They were completely nice. My brother explained, “We’re seeing your show tonight. We love your music; I’m a musician also. I’ve been to all of your shows in the Bay Area. This is only my sister’s second concert; I took her to see Alice Cooper last month. We were hoping we might be able to listen to your sound check from out here.”
They apologized for not being able to invite us in, and kindly asked the staff to leave the loading dock door open so we could hear the whole sound check, which turned out to be an entire rehearsal of their show that night. Carl and Greg each came back throughout the afternoon to talk to us, while Keith was laser-focused on rehearsing non-stop all afternoon. My brother asked them questions about the equipment they used, how they achieved certain effects, what strings Greg liked on his guitars and bass, what drums, cymbals, drum heads, and sticks Carl liked to use. Both Carl and Greg were relaxed and friendly, and they seemed genuinely happy discussing all the technical things with my brother, asking him questions about his own set-ups, music, and band. I was shy, so I just smiled and listened, interested in their conversations and appreciative of the time they spent with us. I appreciated that these extraordinarily talented, world-famous musicians, about to put on a major show in a major city, gave us their time and attention - three teenage nobodies! - and were so kind and interested in talking to us.
At one point Keith was playing the complex intro to a new song. About a minute into it, he kept missing one particular note; every time, he stopped, sweared “Sh*t!” and started again, over and over. He must have played it thirty times, during which Greg and Carl both came out to talk to us. We all couldn’t help laughing every time Keith stopped and swore and started over, and we kept stifling our giggles because we didn’t want to be disrespectful and offend Keith. Eventually, he played it perfectly, and played it several times again. Keith was a perfectionist. At the show that night, he played it flawlessly.
While Greg and Carl were out talking with us and Keith was perfecting the intro, a limo pulled up and two beautiful girls got out, bringing them a gift of very fine bottles of champagne. “Remember us?” they asked Carl and Greg. “You came to a party at our house last time you were in San Francisco. We’re having a party there tonight. We hope you’ll join us.”
Greg and Carl agreed, “Thanks, we’ll try to make it.”
After the girls got in their limo and left, Greg and Carl looked at each other and laughed, “Looks like we know what we’re doing tonight.” Greg smiled at us, with kind of a slightly embarrassed shrug (perhaps he didn’t want to corrupt the morals of our youth). “What are you gonna do?” he asked us. We all laughed. I found my voice and noted, “The perks of being a rock star.” We all laughed again. I asked, “Does Keith ever take a break?” Carl and Greg laughed, “Only when he needs to visit the men’s. Otherwise, he’ll be at it all day.”
After Keith perfected the intro, Carl said, “Well, we’d better get back,” and they both said to us, “Nice talking to you.”
It was wonderful getting to talk to them, and to hear their entire rehearsal. At the end, as they left, Greg and Carl said, “Thanks for coming, we’ll see you later! We hope you enjoy the show!”
I politely asked Keith as he walked by, “May I have your autograph, please?” He stopped and signed it, briefly glancing at us, then got into the limo. He seemed intensely focused on his performance that night. I’m awfully sorry we didn’t get to talk to him. I’ve heard he was a very nice guy, very intelligent, very funny, and had a great sense of humor.
As soon as they drove away, we went to the Auditorium’s front door and were first in line when the door opened hours later. My brother led us directly to the front of the stage, and positioned me directly in front of Keith Emerson’s side of the stage. “You’re going to want to watch him,” he told us. Was he right! Throughout the show, although I enjoyed watching Greg’s and Carl’s consummate musicianship (and, gosh, I had a crush on both of them, such handsome men), a lot of the time I couldn’t take my eyes off of Keith. What a showman! In addition to his awe-inspiring musicianship, he played complex parts on different keyboards at the same time, he climbed over the keyboards, rocked them, tipped them over, played them upside down, throughout all playing flawlessly.
I attended every show of theirs in the Bay Area ever since, and always stood at the stage in front of Keith, where I had a great view to watch Greg and Carl as well. If it was assigned seating, I camped at the box office to get front row seats on Keith’s side. When Greg sang “Welcome back, my friends, to the show that never ends, we’re so glad you could attend” those weren’t just lyrics; that’s genuinely how Greg and Carl treated us. Great guys. The memory of that day makes me happy.
I wish I had been able to tell Keith how influential he has been to me, how much his music has meant and always will mean to me, how I consider him the greatest, most accomplished pianist and composer of our generation, as important as Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Schubert, et al. I’m sure he had heard that many times, from many people, but still, I would have liked to have expressed it to him. In Heaven, I hope I’ll get the chance. I’m a musician, and I sing - I’m looking forward to jamming with Heaven’s house band!