In Dennis, Neil and Terry I Trust

Musicians are who they are.

Supremely gifted. Ridiculously talented. Fiercely opinionated.

Robert Frost and the whole “road not taken” thing? See your favorite local musician for clarification. They’ll explain.

Some are gracious and humble. Some are unbelievably high-maintenance.

Rehearsals are an opportunity. For GOOD musicians, that is. Rehearsals are an ever-welcome occasion to share melodies and create harmonies.

Most are incredibly forgiving and indescribably patient.

There are SOME, not a lot, but SOME musicians… that are full of themselves. High-falutin’. Riding high on the horse. Well-served to reel it in a notch or two. We love them, also. But, they don’t always make it easy.

As for me, I’ve been fortunate. For much of my life, I thought every musician was spectacular. Most were. I didn’t know any difference.

Somewhere along the way, I began to more fully appreciate the value of an accompanist.

I couldn’t begin to construct an all-inclusive list of the folks tinkling the ivories as I bulldozed my way through one song after another. I took them for granted. Many, many, MANY of them wonderful.

One day, I expressed my uncertainty about a coming performance to my mother and she said, “Don’t worry. Terry would never leave you.”

She was, of course, talking about Terry Hicks. She was right, too. All the years. All the shows. All the concerts. All the songs. He has never left.

In the 20 or 30 or 40 years since… (I’ve lost track along the way.) I’ve performed with a proverbial truckload of gifted pianists. Virginia. The Rainer Twins. Jim. Mary Ann. Earl. Norris. Nancy. Susan. The list goes on and on and on.

And on.

There have been many. WAY more than I can remember and all worthy of gratitude and admiration.

Every vocalist has (or had) THEIR accompanist. It’s a relationship, not unlike a marriage. Disagreements and triumphs and tears and infatuation and devotion and trust and, ultimately, love. For each other and the song.

Of all the musicians that have sat at the keyboard as I’ve tried to remember how to breathe while holding onto the lyrics, there have been three, in particular.

Not that the others weren’t wonderful. They WERE. They ARE.

But, these three, boy… I’d go anywhere. Anytime. Any song. They make me feel like any song is doable. As an artist, they set me free.

Dennis Raley. A musician’s musician. Dennis has forgotten more about music than I’ll ever know. Performing with Dennis is like standing in Valhalla, with Odin sitting on the piano bench. A phenomenal human being. A brilliant accompanist. One of the smartest people I have ever known. He doesn’t just talk the talk. He has walked the walk. I love Dennis.

Neil Maxey. He isn’t loud. He doesn’t know how to brag. Humble. Talented. There is nothing – NOTHING – negative to say about Neil, partly because I’ve never – NEVER – heard him say anything ugly about anybody else. It boggles the mind. Most of us hope to be as kind and compassionate as Neil is about the world on a daily basis. For BIBLE readers and believers, Neil is the manifestation of “love one another.” Composer. Arranger. Husband. Father. Friend. All the humility and all the talent. I love Neil.

Terry Hicks. If you know… Terry is an icon. Beloved by all within the realm. Together, we have navigated peaks and valleys. Mentor. Teacher. Long ago, I asked, “Why are you here? Don’t you want to be in New York? Playing on Broadway?” I was feeling pitiful about not having yet conquered the artistic world. “Jeffrey, son… you don’t have to be in New York to sing a song. I’ve made my decision. This is home. And, the sooner you make up your mind, the happier you’ll be.” That was the moment. I committed to trying to make a difference here. Home. Winston-Salem. North Carolina. The place and the people I love. Terry and I have done songs in keys that don’t exist. We’ve created arrangements because it was the right thing to do. We’re not done. And, I’m grateful. Mighty grateful. I love Terry.

Dennis, Neil and Terry. They’re the ones. In them I trust.