“Juilliard is still on my mind”: Aretha Franklin’s greatest musical regret
Time is the bane of talent’s existence because when one has the innate ability and natural skills at immediate disposal, the possibilities of what can be done are endless. Yet, there’s never enough time for everything to be accomplished. As a self-taught musician who could not read music and learned to play piano by ear, Aretha Franklin’s stacked accomplishments are much more impressive. Though she still had an unresolved regret that pestered her throughout her life.
Franklin admitted on multiple occasions that she wished she could devote the time to study and learn piano and read music. In 2003, she confessed to Vanity Fair, “Juilliard is still on my mind”, lamenting the fact that a lack of time prohibited her from ever being able to attend Juilliard and obtain that formal education. Despite this, Franklin was a prolific autodidactic pianist. Her playing was exquisite and steeped in soul. It captured the movement of gospel, the heart of soul, by embodying the Muscle Shoals atmosphere through her dynamic instrumentation.
Her piano was almost an extension of her voice, the way it added to the melody and offered an alternate, contrasting tonality and texture to the song. This is particularly evident in a song like ‘I Never Loved A Man (The Way I Loved You)’ where the piano plays at a lower octave than Franklin sings at and moves in a way that mimics a conversation, where it is almost answering Franklin’s statements.
Franklin’s use of piano isn’t just limited to this, though, which should be noted. In her rendition of Dionne Warwick’s ‘I Say A Little Prayer’, Franklin’s piano acts to subtly highlight the emotional moments of the song. It echoes or mimics the tails of lines and supports the hearty tone of Franklin’s vocals, supporting her delivery. Specifically, during the bridge when Franklin sings, “My darling, believe me (Believe me) / For me, there is no one but you / Please love me true,” the piano can be heard riffing at the end of each line. This arrangement serves to bolster Franklin’s emotional conveyance of the song.
Another instance of Franklin’s proficiency on the keys may be seen in her 1968 performance of ‘Dr Feelgood’. Here, her playing comes across with a purity that acts as a foundation for her voice to just soar. The keys are sparkly, yet grounded in a way that emulates the expertise of someone who had been taught piano their whole life.
It’s natural and tried and true, while not coming across as stiff, which is quite possibly the magic of Franklin’s autodidacticism. Being that she was unconstrained by the formal rules of the instrument, she was permitted to let her instinct take control and guide her.
Of course, it is unfortunate that Franklin never got to resolve her regret, but in observing her playing, it’s clear she didn’t need the training. Her genius was striking enough as it is, though it does bring about the question of what might have been possible for the musician had time not been a thief and she had been able to learn in the revered halls of Juilliard.
