Offstage, Keith Emerson was an unassuming introvert – but onstage it was another matter. ELP's former manager Stewart Young, The VIP's drummer Mike Kellie and fellow Hammond aficionado Brian Auger shared their memories of the development of Emerson’s stage persona that led to many regarding him as prog's ultimate showman.
For Stewart Young, the flying piano was a step too far. It was early 1974, and ELP’s manager had been contacted by a guy he calls “a bit of a magician,” who claimed he could put together a fantastic new stage prop for Keith Emerson, the band’s resident daredevil.
That’s why the pair were standing in a warehouse somewhere in North America, looking at a prototype. “The piano would be attached to a forklift type of thing which would lift it up, then the piano would spin round and round in mid-air,” says Young. “I’m going, ‘Oh fuck, let’s forget it!’ But Keith said, ‘No, no, no, what are you talking about? This is great!’”
Article continues belowAs it turned out, the flying piano was indeed great. It was a highlight of the band’s co-headlining set at 1974’s massive California Jam festival. Footage from the performance shows Emerson seated at his instrument, gleefully playing as it looped the loop several feet above the stage.
“I remember Keith once saying to me, ‘Look, the music is one thing but we’re here to put on a show,’” says Young. “And that’s what he did.”
Young was 25 when he first met Emerson in the early 70s. His father was the band’s accountant, and all three descended on Young Sr’s office to talk business. “He was very quiet compared to the other two,” says Young, who took over managing the band shortly afterwards.
“He was less interested in the business side of it than the music. I remember in one meeting, he spent the whole time writing quite furiously. He and I went to the pub afterwards. I said, ‘I was impressed – you were taking notes.’ He said, ‘He showed me the piece of paper. He’d been writing music.”
Young steered the band through their imperial years in the 70s. It was his job to help facilitate some of Emerson’s more inspired ideas – and not just gravity-defying stage props. When the band needed permission to release their version of Aaron Copland’s Fanfare For The Common Man – recorded as a first take on the very first day of sessions for their Works Volume 1 album, according to Young – it was the manager who talked the composer around after his publishing company initially refused to allow it.
“Keith was worried about how Aaron Copland was going to take it, so we just sent him the opening section and not the improvised bit,” says Young. “I called Mr Copland, who was very nice, but he said, ‘They’ve just taken my theme; I don’t see where they’re going with it.’ I explained that Keith was frightened to send him the whole thing. And he said, ‘Well, send it to me.’ So we did and he said, ‘I don’t understand it so much, but this is fantastic!’”
Young was there, too, when Emerson met another huge figure in 20th-century music – the conductor and composer Leonard Bernstein, whose song, America, was famously turned into a bombastic Vietnam-era protest song by Emerson’s band The Nice.
He and Young had taken a break from the Works sessions in Switzerland to see Bernstein perform in Paris. Afterwards, they met the great man. “He invited us both to dinner, which was very nice,” says Young. “So I invited Leonard to come to the recording studio and have a listen to the album.
He turned up and Keith played him Piano Concerto No. 1 – which was a very big moment for Keith. And Leonard really liked it. Then we played him Pirates, which he was really impressed with – the mix of band and orchestra. Did he make the connection between Keith and America? It was never discussed!”
As the issues with Emerson’s hands worsened, Young suggested his friend move into conducting. “I had this idea that he could go out with an orchestra and do ELP and Zeppelin and Pink Floyd, and drop a few things like ragtime in the middle,” says Young. “So we were working on that; but sadly it never happened.”
Today, Young continues to oversee the legacy of both ELP and Emerson. “Keith was a fantastic musician,” he says. “I’ve worked with a lot of keyboard players, and they all idolise him. He was a great guy, too. There was no bullshit to him.”
“Halfway through the set, Keith went manic!” Spooky Tooth/Only Ones drummer Mike Kellie thought he knew how Keith Emerson’s wild stage antics began
Mike Kellie played with Keith Emerson in The V.I.P.’s in 1967. Before the drummer passed away in 2017, he discussed his theory of how Emerson’s larger-than-life performance aspect was born.
“Keith built an incredible career from what he had, but mainly by default through performing with The V.I.P.’s at the Star Club. He’s a technically brilliant keyboard player, but had never done the explosions or any of that before.
We got him from Gary Farr & the T-Bones. I don’t know how we got him, but it was while we were rehearsing at Marquee Studios.
One weekend we were headlining at the Star-Club in Hamburg – we’d taken it on from The Beatles – with Keith as our new keyboard player. Guitarist Luther Grosvenor stuck a ‘black bomber’ in Keith’s Coca-Cola. It was an amphetamine that kept you up for three days.
I’ll never forget it: halfway through the set, Keith went manic. Then there was no stopping him. I promise you that’s the truth of the story. It was all in good fun and it gave Keith a career. I’m not saying we’re responsible for his success, but that’s when he started his act.”
“I said, ‘Who are your influences?’ He said ragtime artist Winifred Atwell. We were influenced by the same people”: Fellow Hammond organ pioneer Brian Auger remembers his old pal
“Keith Emerson was a great friend of mine. He was a really wonderful guy. He told me about going onstage and playing the organ upside down and stuff. I couldn’t believe it.
We sat together many times. I remember saying to him, ’Who are your influences then? How did it start?’ And whose name came up? Ragtime artist Winifred Atwell! ‘You’re kidding me!’ ‘No, man, not at all.’
We found out that we were actually influenced by the same people, except I was on the jazz track and he was on the prog side. I never understood what ‘prog’ meant – to me, it’s just all music. But with Keith as my best buddy, I went to have a listen to what he did. When I heard him play America, it was like, ‘Boy, this guy can play!’ I really enjoyed it.
One time he said: ‘What you don’t know, Bri, is that I came into the Marquee one night and you were playing this thing called Rock Candy by Brother Jack McDuff. I was mesmerised – I thought, “I want to play like that!”’”
