Late on a winter night, Aretha Franklin sat in the dressing room of Caesars Windsor Hotel and Casino, in Ontario. She did not wear the expression of someone who has just brought boundless joy to a few thousand souls.
"What was with the sound?" she said, in a tone somewhere between perplexity and irritation. Feedback had pierced a verse of "My Funny Valentine," and before she sat down at the piano to play "Inseparable," a tribute to the late Natalie Cole, she narrowed her gaze and called on a "Mr. Lowery" to fix the levels once and for all. Miss Franklin, as nearly everyone in her circle tends to call her, was distinctly, if politely, displeased. "For a time up there, I just couldn't hear myself right," she said.