In the middle of the UCR interview with Jon Anderson, the former Yes singer cuts the conversation off – not because of a sensitive issue or scheduling conflict. But because the magic bird is back in your garden.
“We have a beautiful blue heron that started to pass by the house,” he says. “There was a wonderful star that happened around Christmas, when Saturn and Jupiter aligned. And this beautiful blue heron – almost two meters high – entered our garden, and it was like a miracle for us to see that bird walking the garden very I brought that cold energy. [My wife] Jane just walked out the front door, and she was standing on the stairs. He flew to the top of the hill here. Anything like that for us is always a message from the divine energy that surrounds us. “
Sometimes, Anderson seeks that deity. Other times, she finds him. Probably the most prolific live composer of the classic progressive rock wave, he remained especially active during the pandemic – continuing to collaborate with musicians remotely and to resolve a daunting accumulation of new and unfinished projects.
“For me, it’s like breathing,” he says. “I wake up in the morning, I go to the studio and I can breathe. I have about six or seven albums planned for the next 10 years. I just have to finish them, that’s all.”
That same spark guided Anderson during his first solo projects, which he reexamined for a couple of reissues: His second LP, from the 1980s Song of the Seven, was relaunched in September and he recently announced a remastering of his 1976 debut, Olias from Sunhillow. Anderson came out of his home studio and spoke to UCR about the challenges and rewards of these solo training adventures, their pandemic-era creativity and the 50th anniversary of Yes’s first classic LP, The Yes Album.
Olias from Sunhillow often sounds like a quieter version of Sim, but Song of the Seven went beyond the classic sound of the band. Were you eager to explore the territory outside those limits or was it scary not to have the brand behind you?
I never thought twice about [it]. I went through a period of work with Vangelis and realized that I could work with different musicians at different levels. Some [the ideas] they were very structured, like the “Song of Seven” itself. And I just had fun for a period of two months. I had a studio at my home in London and was free to do whatever I wanted. I had some contacts with musicians from London, so I invited them and tried some ideas. We recorded about three songs that I thought would work with Yes, but it just wasn’t the right time for Yes to work together. [Yes demo versions of Anderson’s “Some Are Born” and “Days” appear on the band’s 2004 CD reissue of Tormato.] I just made the album – like I do today, I’m constantly making music. You have to put it somewhere, so I approached the record company, and they were interested in releasing it. At that time, I was writing songs that were radio friendly for me. You never think about trying to write a hit – you just write a song and hope people like it and the radio can play. It was well received. It’s kind of bizarre that 30 years later, I heard it and thought, “It’s not really a bad album.”
Watch Jon Anderson’s ‘Song of Seven’ video
How did you end up playing with Jack Bruce on “Heart of the Matter”? Did you know yourself well?
I was a huge fan. One of the first memories of meeting Jack was at Cream’s farewell show. Yes it opened up, and Roy Gallagher played with his band [Taste], and then Cream took the stage, and it was pure magic to hear these three incredible musicians. Jack was not only a great bass player, but also a great singer. I met him through a friend of mine and just said, “Come to the studio. We can have fun and drink some whiskey – and [smoke] some joints too, of course. “It was a great afternoon making music with him. He was a real character. Of course, I had close friends with whom I worked, and they knew some people in bands that I loved. I was a Scottish singer. [Chris Rainbow] who sang a lot on that record, and he was really fantastic.
It is a unique cast of characters on this album.
In general, you bump into people and they bring their friends along. And before you know it, you’re playing and you have the music. It is more a matter of being in the right place at the right time. The saxophonist [Dick Morrissey] it was great. [Saxophonist] Johnny Dankworth – what a handsome guy. I always remember him because his wife, Cleo Laine, was a very famous jazz-pop singer. I went to a party at his house and said, “Would you like to come and play the saxophone?” He said [casually], “Oh yeah.” He just came in, did his job and said goodbye. This guy had a big band! I even have my daughter [Deborah Anderson] – she’s about 40 now. She was born at that time and sings [childlike vocalizations] at the end of “Song of Seven”. I think she was three months old.
You are also planning to reissue Olias.
When you’ve been around as long as I have, everything is a reissue. It is natural for even the record companies to think, “We can sell 1,000 records, so let’s release them. At least it keeps the music flowing.” In that time period, you are going through many different levels of awakening to life because you have gone through a [big] experience with Sim. It was that feeling of, “Will I ever have the same energy again? Who knows? So, I’m going to continue with some music.”
Olias it was crucial because you proved that you could write great songs outside of Yes – and even play all the instruments. Engineer Eddie Offord once said that some of the other Yes guys were critical of his musicality – was this album your attempt to prove them wrong?
I’m not sure who started the ball rolling, but I think Steve [Howe] said he was going to make one, and then Chris [Squire] said he was going to make one, and then Alan [White] said, “I’m going to make one!” And then I said, “Okay, so I’m going to do one”, thinking, “What am I going to do?” My friend Tony Colton [who produced Yes’ 1970 LP, Time and a Word] came by, and I hadn’t seen him in a few years. He was so excited, and he walked into the main room of the house and started playing the piano really well. I said, “I didn’t know you played the piano!” He said, “I have been to music school for the past three months, learning to play the piano.” I thought, “This is what I should do.” But I didn’t like school as a kid in an academic way. I liked to play football, art and geography, but everything else was a pain. I thought, “I have these instruments in my garage that I’ve been collecting over the years of touring. Why don’t I do them in a proper setup, and then I can get a small studio and a friend of mine, Mike Dunne, to come in and stay with me while I learn to play these instruments? “I have a lot of music in my head, so I said,” Why don’t I write a story? ” So, I wrote a story based on the ship that flew in Fragile album [cover]. I expected Roger Dean to do the art, but he was always very busy at the time. So I started doing this, 10 hours in the studio, practicing and playing one day until I got it right – on the harp and koto and zither and a three-string guitar called saz, a Turkish instrument with a beautiful drone sound. I spent many hours perfecting certain parts and recording them. Over the course of a month or six weeks, I really got into the structure, and did a lot of vocalizations and stuff. In a way, it was like being in music school, learning all the time.
I read that you were very cautious with the album when you finished it.
I was very close to Vangelis at that time and we had already recorded an album. He was the first person I played for because he was my mentor. A big smile appeared on his face halfway, and in the end he just came over and gave me a big hug. I said thank you!”
You and Vangelis ended up having a unique collaborative partnership, working on four albums. And you two mirror each other musically: Vangelis was also a very intuitive musician who also taught himself to play various instruments.
I admired him a lot and couldn’t believe how good he was as a musician. He could write a symphony every day – there is that kind of energy about this guy. We discovered in the space of an afternoon that we had written three or four songs without thinking. We didn’t sit down and say, “Let’s write a song”. He started playing and I started singing, and we put that aside and did another one. In the space of two or three hours, we had written about four or five interesting songs. It was spontaneous music, which is the exact opposite of Yes.
This month marks the 50th anniversary of The Yes Album, which many people consider Yes’s first great album.
That’s because it was the first album on which we rehearsed all the songs, went on tour to play them and then recorded them. We eliminate all unnecessary things and become part of the music. We were so involved with the music because we had played on the stage. When we entered the studio, [London’s] Counseling, we felt that we had more control than we were trying to do musically, instead of dominating the studio. We could come in and really take care of business.
Songs like “Yours Is No Disgrace” and “Starship Trooper” were longer and more elaborate. Do you just attribute it to having more confidence?
We actually did it over a three-week period at a farmhouse in Devon. We rented a farmhouse and rehearsed like crazy until we hit the road and introduce ourselves. There was something about going on tour, knowing what you were going to play, virtually the same every night. It was a wonderful experience because we knew we were good at that time. Our audience loved what we were doing. We had already drawn up a plan to survive another year.
Listen Yes’ ‘Yours Is No Disgrace’
How are you dealing with the pandemic on a creative level? You’ve been collaborating with musicians remotely for years, so you’re ahead of the curve on that. Are you working on something new?
Totally! A friend of mine, Tommy Calton, who played [guitar] at the 1,000 hands band, sent me a track about a month ago. It was, at that moment, exactly what I needed, so I sang this song “Just What I Needed”. I heard it today, sent it to Tommy and said, “I love this song. I’m not sure how we’re going to project it to the world.” I started working with my good friend Paul Green, who works at the School of Rock and has the Rock Academy in Connecticut. We zoomed in a little with the kids and I said, “Send me anything you have, because I’m going to work on it.” This girl sent me a beautiful piano song, and I wrote some lyrics and melody for her and sent it back. This guy sent me a drums and I did some vocalizations. Everything is an exercise in a way – and a gift. I have written with some old friends with whom I wrote years ago. I have to breathe and create every day.
You have been working on a Olias sequel album, The Songs of Zamran: Son of Olias, for more than 20 years. Have you made any progress lately?
This! Strangely, I’m doing about two hours of music on this, and I still haven’t figured out how to design it. I know what it is. I can feel what it should be. Having made about three or four different versions of each song, it’s still not clear how to design it, like, “[This is] the first part of a seven-part play. “It’s a wonderful and exciting puzzle. But sometimes I have to let it go and go on with other things. There comes a point where I will spend two weeks solidly Zamran. THE [story is about] this intensity helping to create some of the structures of planet Earth. Few people are aware that there is a structure within planet Earth made of crystal chains called Ley Lines. It is an interesting observation that Mother Earth is an all-powerful computer.