The First and Only Session
On December 14, 2018, I had the singular honor of working with Roberta Flack. I was in the studio at Atlantic Records when Pete Ganbarg, the head of A&R, passed me in the hallway on my way to the kitchen. He casually mentioned that Roberta Flack would be coming in. My heart leaped at the opportunity. Along with the assistant engineers, I immediately began preparing the studio, ensuring that the proper microphones were set up for her vocal recording.
As always, when a high-profile session was about to begin, there was an air of anticipation. I knew she had arrived when I heard the commotion outside the control room. The moment the main studio door opened, I felt the energy shift. Ms. Flack was escorted in by her two managers, Suzanne Koga and Joan Martin, her musical director, and a few other close associates. As she entered the live room, I was ready to receive her.
We locked eyes instantly, and she greeted me with warmth and grace. I would like to believe she was pleased to see a young Black female engineer in the studio. She looked at me with a welcoming smile and asked, "Are you going to record me?" I responded, "Yes, ma’am, Ms. Flack, I’m going to record you." She nodded approvingly and replied, "Good, because I want you to record me."
That moment meant everything to me. Her confidence in my ability was an incredible honor. As we shook hands, she offered me a piece of wisdom that I have carried with me ever since. She told me to always be myself, that I didn’t have to be anything else. I understood that to be the key to my success.
A Lost Song and a Timeless Performance
We began the session. Her musical director took to the piano, which we miked with two AKG 414s, while Ms. Flack’s vocal mic was a vintage Neumann U 47. She sang what we all believed to be an old Negro spiritual—a song so beautiful and haunting that it moved her to tears multiple times. We paused when needed, allowing her devoted team to comfort and encourage her. Despite the emotional weight of the performance, she pressed on.
To this day, no one has been able to identify that song. Her management team and I have conducted extensive research, but we have not been able to find its name or origins. It remains a mystery.
After the session, I worked closely with Pete Ganbarg and her management to refine the vocal recording. I labored over multiple mixes, ensuring that every detail met her standards. Over the following years, I never forgot that vocal performance. It stayed with me, waiting for its moment.
Reviving the Recording
In 2020, when the pandemic brought everything to a standstill, I revisited that vocal performance, feeling deeply that it needed to be heard. I reached out to her team, requesting permission to create a new arrangement and produce the recording. To my delight, they granted their blessing.
In 2021, I crafted an arrangement and sent it back to them. Though they were impressed, they felt it didn’t quite hit the mark. A few more years passed, and in 2024, I reached out again, determined to give it another try. I envisioned incorporating the recording into an upcoming poetry album, pairing Ms. Flack’s vocal with a Maya Angelou poem, "The Mothering Blackness."
I also had a bold idea—I wanted Valerie Simpson to be a part of this project. Knowing the deep connection between Ms. Flack and Mrs. Simpson, and given my own admiration for Mrs. Simpson’s extraordinary work as a pianist and producer, I felt she could serve as both an intercessor and a musical proxy for Ms. Flack, who could no longer vocalize. Roberta Flack’s management reached out to Valerie Simpson on my behalf, and to my great joy, she accepted.
A Meeting of Legends
With their support, I traveled to New York to record Valerie Simpson and to spend time with Ms. Flack. I made sure to look good, smell good, and carry myself with pride because I was about to be in the presence of two musical queens.
Meeting Valerie Simpson for the first time was surreal. She was direct, no-nonsense, and firm in her presence. As an outsider in her world, I could feel the weight of her legacy. But what struck me most was the deep love she had for Ms. Flack. Their bond, spanning decades, was a testament to friendship, loyalty, and the unspoken language of music. I witnessed firsthand the tenderness with which Mrs. Simpson cared for her dear friend. If she could have taken Ms. Flack’s pain away, she would have.
After our visit, Mrs. Simpson offered me a ride uptown. We discussed the production, and I mentioned my backup plan in case I couldn't clear The Mothering Blackness. She looked at me firmly and said, "I don’t want to recite another poem. You just have to figure out how to clear it. I have a relationship with the estate, so maybe I can help you—but I’m not reciting another poem." That was that.
The Final Recording
The next day, I visited Mrs. Simpson’s home to record her vocals. Her studio, on the top floor of her midtown brownstone, carried a powerful, sacred energy. Her younger daughter, Asia Ashford, was present, and it felt fitting to have multiple generations of mothering in the room. The song, "She Came Home Blameless," was built upon Ms. Flack’s final recorded vocal, paired with Mrs. Simpson’s recitation of Maya Angelou’s poetry. The recording honored Ms. Flack’s legacy, the essence of Black womanhood, and the interconnectedness of music, poetry, and love.
With the assistance of Valerie Ghent, Mrs. Simpson’s longtime engineer, we recorded the performance while I produced. It was a moment of pure artistry and reverence.
A Legacy That Lives On
After months of legal back-and-forth, the song was finalized. "She Came Home Blameless" now stands as a testament to Roberta Flack’s final vocal recording, a piece of history that I was determined would find its audience.
When I heard the news of her passing today, I immediately called Joan Martin. Though I had reached out to console her, she instead thanked me for the work we had done together. That, in itself, was a gift.
Roberta Flack was more than an artist—she was a mother to all mothers, a giver of wisdom and care through her music. A Howard-educated musician, she pursued excellence with an unmatched musical aptitude. Losing her feels like losing a part of history, but her legacy endures through her body of work.
In many ways, my deep passion for honoring our elders—Ms. Flack, Mrs. Simpson, Maya Angelou—feels like an attempt to hold on to their genius as their generation departs this world. Today, we commemorate Roberta Flack’s legacy in a profound way, and I am forever grateful to have played a small part in preserving her voice for future generations.