The grandeur of the Dolby Theatre usually mandates precision: perfectly timed cues, pre-arranged lighting, and rehearsed perfection. But last Saturday night, amidst the glittering stage setup for David Foster’s sold-out “Hitman: Backstage” show, magic found a gap in the schedule. It was an interlude, a moment when Foster, the legendary producer and 16-time Grammy winner, often trades his position at the grand piano for a microphone to chat with the audience.
“I love these nights because sometimes, the best music isn’t in the script,” Foster mused, scanning the front row. He was searching for volunteers for his trademark spontaneous sing-along. His eyes landed on a man who looked utterly comfortable in a plain black t-shirt, yet possessed an unmistakable aura. “You, sir, in the third row. What’s your name?”
The man rose, slightly startled. “John. John Poster.”
The name meant nothing to most of the crowd. John Poster is a respected, if low-profile, session musician and songwriter, known within the industry for his immaculate vocal arrangements and instrumental versatility. To the Dolby audience, he was just “John.”
“Well, John,” Foster grinned, “Can you sing a little bit?”
Poster shrugged, a modest smile playing on his lips. “I can try.”
What followed was a moment born completely on the fly, a once-in-a-lifetime musical exchange that has already become the stuff of legend. Foster, always ready for a challenge, played a familiar, mournful chord. Willie Nelson’s classic, “Always on My Mind,” hung in the air.
Poster took the first verse, and the casual, almost bored demeanor vanished. His voice was a revelation: rich, textured, and infused with a deep, soulful ache that belied his unassuming presence. It was the kind of voice that holds an entire life story in its huskiness, hitting the emotional core of the song instantly. The audience hushed; this wasn’t an amateur karaoke attempt. This was an artist.
David Foster, a man who has played with the greatest voices of the last five decades—from Whitney Houston to Céline Dion—was visibly captivated. His trademark playful smirk dissolved into an expression of focused intensity. He didn’t simply accompany Poster; he began to converse with him musically, transforming the arrangement in real-time.
As Poster sang the bridge, “Maybe I didn’t treat you quite as good as I should have,” Foster moved from simple chords to complex, cinematic flourishes. He employed his famous, sweeping piano arpeggios, building a dramatic tension beneath the simple country ballad. The synergy was immediate and electric. Poster adapted effortlessly, leaning into the new, grander structure without losing the song’s intimate vulnerability.
When they reached the climax, “You were always on my mind,” the two men held the moment, Poster extending the final note with a controlled passion, while Foster executed a breathtaking, cascading run on the piano that seemed to rain emotion onto the stage.
By the end, the applause wasn’t just loud; it was stunned. The entire theatre was on its feet, not just for the spectacle, but for the sheer audacity and beauty of an unscripted moment of genius. Foster rose from the piano bench, walked straight to Poster, and pulled him into a genuine bear hug.
“Where have you been hiding?” Foster exclaimed, grabbing the microphone and turning to the crowd. “That, ladies and gentlemen, is what this is all about! The talent that’s out there, just waiting for a moment.”
John Poster simply returned to his seat, shaking his head and smiling, leaving behind an audience buzzing with the shared thrill of having witnessed pure, unadulterated musical spontaneity. It was a powerful reminder that sometimes, the most unforgettable nights are the ones born completely on the fly.
