When a keyboard player sits down in a Nashville studio or on a Broadway stage, the temptation is to prove their worth with every chord and fill. Flashy runs, fast movements, reharmonized chords—these are the tools many players reach for first. But according to Tyler Richards, a Nashville-based keyboardist and the owner of Tyler Richards Music, that instinct is exactly what holds players back.
Richards has spent years working in the city’s session and live scenes, and he’s seen the same mistake repeated by newcomers and veterans alike. “Most people think it’s about how much they can add to a song - flashy runs, fast movements, reharmonized chords, and all the things that showcase what they can do.” That mindset, he says, is the root of the problem. It turns every song into a competition between the player and the material, rather than a collaboration in service of the artist.
The real skill, Richards argues, is restraint. The best Nashville keyboard players are the ones who listen more than they play. They understand that their role is to support the vocalist, lock in with the rhythm section, and fill the sonic gaps without drawing attention to themselves. As Richards puts it, “I think the best piece of advice I’ve ever received is that it’s not about what you add to the track; it’s about how you make the other musicians sound.”
That advice runs counter to how many players are trained. In music schools and online tutorials, the focus is often on technical proficiency—playing faster, using more complex harmony, and improvising with greater density. But in Nashville, the professional standard is different. A keyboard part that serves the song is valued over a part that impresses other musicians. This is a city where the Nashville Number System is the lingua franca, and where a simple two-note stab at the right moment can be more effective than a cascading arpeggio.
Richards’ approach is also a lesson in humility. “At the end of the day, it’s about making the artist shine, not yourself.” That philosophy is what separates working players from those who struggle to get called back. Artists and producers in Nashville are looking for collaborators who make their jobs easier, not sidemen who turn every session into an audition. When you make the artist sound good, you become indispensable—and that’s how you build a career.
For players hoping to break into the Nashville scene, Richards suggests a shift in focus. Instead of practicing licks in isolation, practice playing with others. Learn to anticipate where a vocalist is going to breathe, where the bass player is going to land, and where the guitar part leaves a hole that only a keyboard can fill. The goal is not to be the loudest or the most complex voice in the room; it’s to be the glue that holds the arrangement together.
This doesn’t mean abandoning creativity. There’s plenty of room for tasteful embellishment and harmonic color—but only when it serves the song. The difference is intention. Are you adding a run because it makes the chorus hit harder, or because you want to show off? Nashville audiences and producers can tell the difference instantly.
Richards’ own work, documented on his website, reflects this philosophy. His playing is characterized by space, groove, and a deep respect for the song’s structure. He’s not trying to reinvent the wheel on every track; he’s trying to make the wheel roll more smoothly.
For anyone considering a move to Nashville or hoping to improve their session work, the takeaway is clear: check your ego at the door. The most successful keyboard players in Music City are not the ones with the fastest fingers or the most advanced theory knowledge. They’re the ones who understand that their job is to make everyone else sound better. As Richards says, it’s not about what you add—it’s about how you make the other musicians sound. That’s the secret that most people get wrong, and the one that can change your career.