These days, I seem to live in two main places: the piano bench and the phone.

I practice for our upcoming album, then pause to make phone calls — fundraising calls, planning calls, follow-up calls, and all the little conversations that seem to keep a large project moving forward.

So lately I’ve been thinking about the quiet power of a simple phone call.

“Hi Phillip, this is Ed Kee. How are you doing?”

“Hey, I’m working on song selections for an upcoming Christmas concert with Frances Drost, an artist from Pennsylvania. We’d like to use your arrangement of God Rest Ye Bells for orchestra. Would that be okay with you?”

“Wonderful! Thank you.”

I sat quietly in Ed’s Nashville office taking it all in.

It was 2018, and this would be my fifth annual Portraits of White concert with live orchestra. The dream had started in 2014, and now several years into working together, I was still amazed by how many gifted arrangers Ed knew personally — and how often one phone call from him opened doors that would have been completely out of reach for me on my own.

That day, we had been listening to Phillip Keveren’s arrangement of God Rest Ye Bells — his creative blending of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen and Carol of the Bells.

We both loved it immediately.

Phillip had a unique way of taking Christmas classics and giving them fresh life. This arrangement leaned toward the classical side, and something in it pulled on my own classical roots.

So when we both landed on it, Ed simply said,

“Well, I know Phillip. I’ll just call him.”

He said it the way someone might say, I’ll go make coffee.

I sat there in awe.

Usually that also meant Ed would take the original arrangement and adapt it so it fit beautifully for our 27-piece orchestra. He handled details I barely knew how to think about yet — making sure everything was stage-ready, player-ready, conductor-ready.

It felt like watching someone quietly build a bridge I didn’t even realize I needed.

Then came 2019.

That year I changed directions and created Portraits of White by Candlelight — a smaller ensemble, a more intimate setting, and, I thought, the perfect moment to feature the oboe.

After all, the oboe often disappears inside a full orchestra, even though it carries one of the richest, most haunting sounds in the room.

And I already knew the right player: Kirstin.

She had already become an important part of the Portraits of White orchestra.

So I called Ed.

“Who should I ask to write an arrangement for piano and oboe?”

“Phillip Keveren,” he said.

He mentioned a couple of other names too, but honestly, I barely heard them.

Phillip immediately felt right.

Ed agreed.

“Phillip would write something beautiful.”

So this time, I made the phone call myself.

“Hi Phillip, it’s Frances Drost from Pennsylvania. We’re working on my annual Portraits of White concert, and this year I’d love to feature the oboe. Would you consider writing something just for us… maybe I Wonder as I Wander?”

He was immediately interested.

“I’m headed to London in a couple of weeks for a project, but I should be able to get this done before I go.”

Within days, I had a lush arrangement in hand.

I mailed a check.

Kirstin and I opened the music and immediately knew he had understood exactly what we hoped for.

Then came March 2020.

The world stopped.

Concert calendars emptied.

Phone conversations changed tone.

Everything suddenly sounded uncertain.

Somewhere during that long strange stretch, Ed called again.

This time it was my turn to listen carefully.

“Phillip Keveren is about to release a new project — piano with the London Symphony Orchestra. I think you’ll love it! You need to watch the trailer.”

He sent me the link to Sojourner.

I watched.

And something in me locked in.

The arrangements.
The story.
The sound.

Immediately my mind flashed back to something Ed had once said almost casually:

“Frances, knowing your love for piano and orchestra, you would love doing a project with the London Symphony Orchestra.”

At the time it sounded lovely… and impossible.

But now, watching that trailer, the idea no longer felt impossible.

It felt magnetic.

When the CD released, I bought one for myself and one for Ed.

Then I sat in my studio and listened from beginning to end through my pro speakers.

Every nuance.
Every phrase.
Every orchestral color.

That album became my soundtrack through COVID — and honestly, it still remains one of my favorite instrumental recordings.

I’ve been known to play it nonstop on long road trips.

Eventually, I made another phone call.

“Phillip, this is Frances Drost in Pennsylvania. I love your new album. I’d so love to do something like that someday.”

“You should.”

“What was it like… hearing the London Symphony Orchestra play your arrangements?”

“Oh Frances… when the first note started, I could barely breathe…”

I hung up and thought:

Someday.

But COVID kept unfolding.

And like many ideas during that season, I quietly set it down.

Meanwhile, Kirstin and I — having formed Double Keyed mostly for fun — kept playing together whenever and wherever we could.

Then came January 2022.

Kirstin had a fresh idea, and suddenly we were making another phone call.

“Hi Phillip, it’s Frances again… my oboist and I are considering a Christmas project for piano and oboe. Would you be open to writing the arrangements?”

That led to a Zoom call.

By March 1, we had signed a contract and received our first arrangement to approve:

In the Bleak Midwinter.

It was a gray day outside when I sat in my studio listening to Phillip’s mockup for the first time.

And I cried.

He had nailed it.

The rest of the arrangements followed week by week, and by August we were in Nashville recording the album with Phillip producing and arranging.

Then in 2023, we made yet another call.

“Phillip… what if Double Keyed did another Christmas album — but this time with the London Symphony Orchestra?”

And now here we are.

I recently pulled out footage from the Portraits of White archives — 2018 and 2019 — so people could hear some of the music that began with those early phone calls.

You’ll hear snippets of Phillip’s arrangements.
You’ll see some of the moments.
And you’ll also hear a little from Phillip himself.

Looking back, it’s remarkable how many meaningful things began with someone simply picking up the phone.

A question.
An idea.
A willingness to ask.

I’m very glad Ed called Phillip.

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My short video from the Portraits of White archives:

Phillip Keveren’s Sojourner Album trailer:

To learn more about our London Symphony Orchestra project, sign up for the Double Keyed newsletter here.