Ron Aikens is an artist who never got his flowers. Max from Brewerytown Beats/Brewerytown Records is determined to change that. This is a project that has been years in the making, but now seems to be happening on a fast track. And I think a good reason for that is the team in place. Between Max, co-producer-mensch Aaron Levinson, songwriters David Cope and Freddie Berman (who are also in the band), and the band that includes Doug O’Donnell, Adam Faulk, Kayla Childs, Waverly Alston and his choir, Max Ilan Hoenig, Lizzie Steiner and others, the project has been handled with care and authenticity at every step of the way. Max has trusted me not only with delivering the basslines but also with the sonics. It’s definitely a challenge to make something sound retro while also respecting and acknowledging 50 years of music history and audio technological development (notice that I didn’t say “progress” – a conversation for another time!). So we try to deliver something that leans vintage, but for modern ears.
Max is also on a mission to save Sigma Sound Studios. While that is a topic deserving of its own post, I bring it up because he’s in touch with many of the people who made Sigma great. He knew Joe Tarsia, and we’ve been able to consult with Tom Moulton and Peter Humphreys on all sorts of topics related to Sigma recording techniques. How *did* they mic the harp? What was the special thing about the Sigma chamber reverb? This has been such a treat for me. Sigma exists only as a legend in my mind. I came to Philly after the studio closed its doors, so getting to learn from the people who are still around to share their knowledge has been a great learning experience.
The team chemistry and production process is really worth mentioning. During one of the sessions, more than one person remarked who special it felt to be wheeling in a harp to the studio for overdubs while a gospel choir worked out their parts in the lounge and side conversations about favorite under the radar records happened in the hallway. I’ll try to keep this short, because I’d like to include the full press release about Ron below. His story is worth reading, and the music is certainly worth listening to. There will be plenty more where this came from.
In his teens and twenties, singer-songwriter Ron Aikens was a promising voice out of South Philadelphia. He had earned a spot in United Image, a Soul music group that eventually signed to Stax/Volt Records and was making waves. However, fate anchored Aikens’ dreams just as things were taking off. “Right around that time that record was playing on the air and everything, I got snatched,” he says. More than 50 years later, Ronald Aikens is still affected by the turn of events that landed him behind bars for much of the 1970s. The subject conjures palpable emotions for the singer in his pauses and silence. At Graterford, Ron eventually joined Power Of Attorney—a storied Polydor Records-backed band with ties to James Brown, Shep Gordon, and Stan Vincent. In this chapter, Ron appeared on television, met celebrities, shared stages with Stevie Wonder, and lived out some glory as he and his band-mates became a touring sensation all while incarcerated—even though the band consisted of 4 lifers. Upon his prison release, the talent made several attempts to rebuild his dream. However, bad timing and bad business dealings ultimately left him hapless and hopeless. Forty years ago, Ron hung up his microphone and accepted a long-time janitorial position at Philly’s City Hall. A man moved on with life as the music business moved on without a talented artist. “I had nowhere to hide,” declares Aikens, “so I had to just leave it all behind.”
A decade ago, Ron Aikens quietly began performing once more. In the 2010s, the singer would take the trolley from his West Philadelphia home and busk at 15th Street Station and the city’s Market East. “I didn’t think anybody would pay me any attention,” the retiree recalls, astonished to see dollars in his bucket. On mild and warm days, Aikens sang songs by homegrown talent like The O’Jays, Hall & Oates, and Teddy Pendergrass, as well as Motown and others. But he did not perform his originals. “People want to hear songs that they built memories around; they don’t want to hear me,” he remembers thinking of his long-dismissed songwriting. That changed in 2020, when Max Ochester, owner of a local record store, Brewerytown Beats, stood before Aikens’ amp on 12th & Market. “I went down specifically looking for Ron because I had unreleased Power Of Attorney stuff,” says Max. He was looking for information.
In 2020, Max’s label released two remastered 1972 Power Of Attorney recordings (“Changing Man” b/w “I’m Just Your Clown”). Those songs were cut before Ron Aikens joined the group in Graterford, but curiosity ignited a relationship. Aikens, who had released material as Galaxxy for Pop-Art Records, Doc, Aikens & Shields—a single by POA producer Stan Vincent (John Lennon, The Five Stairsteps, Connie Francis), as well as work with United Image and Power Of Attorney, proved his voice and showmanship were still strong. “He made me feel like he wanted to do something,” Ron says of Max. “I don’t have a drive like that anymore.”
That drive has created momentum. In 2023, 74-year-old Ron Aikens returned to the studio for the first time in nearly 40 years. Max and Grammy Award-winning co-producer Aaron Levinson have highlighted Ronald Aikens’ fantastic voice and story. The result is Ron & The Hip Tones.
“My whole thing is to do it how it would’ve been back in the ’70s,” Max explains. “I want to do the Philly sound, so I’m hiring arrangers, hiring songwriters—local guys. That process—a full production—has been thoughtful and curated, from the songwriting to horn sections, Gospel background arrangements, and a harp player. “This is a good team, man!” Ron says emphatically, recalling the days when sessions involved rooms of talented creators.
The music is alive and very symbolic of Ron Aikens’ life, evolution, and perspective. He decided busking was unsafe after the pandemic, and his newfound interest in his own music perhaps encouraged him to make one more swing at a dream that goes back nearly three-quarters of a century. “I’m here. I’m breathing,” he says in a West Philly coffee shop with a smile and wide eyes. “I ain’t gone yet. If I’m gonna breathe, I need to sing!”