And I Heard a Million Voices Singing
Editor’s note: I wrote this thesis fifteen years ago, as the senior project for
my B.A. in Electronic Music from San Francisco State University.
The paper is an in-depth look at the orchestrational techniques
used by Rick Wakeman in the music he has created with Yes, and
on his own. It also includes a brief musicological treatise on
progressive rock.
Though the paper is certainly written in a formal academic style,
I think there is interesting information here for any fan of Yes
and Rick, musical training or not.
Contents
- Introduction
- Personal History
- Wakeman’s Session Work
- The Strawbs
- Yes and the Progressive Rock Phenomena
- The Beginnings of Wakeman’s Solo Career
- Wakeman’s Departure From Yes
- The Return to Yes
- Wakeman’s Solo Career in the Eighties
- The Third Installation in the Wakeman/Yes Saga
- A Look at Wakeman’s Diverse Use of Keyboard Sound
- Conclusion
- End Notes
- Bibliography
Introduction
Keyboardist/composer Rick Wakeman is best known for his virtuosity,
flashy stage personality, and grandiose, often mythical subject
matter. His recorded output, spanning the last quarter century,
has been an incredibly diverse collection of songs, rock suites,
and album length concept works. Wakeman’s pollination of the rock
idiom with the lavish complexities of Western art music has introduced
a generation of rock listeners to the classical world, and served
as a beacon for younger composers. The accolades he has received
from within the classical community have helped to call attention
to and elevate the status of art rock in general.
Though his achievements are impressive, I will examine here a
somewhat overlooked aspect of Rick Wakeman’s contribution to the
progressive rock movement, and music in general: his diverse use
of tone color. Wakeman’s timbral choices complement and work in
conjunction with his compositional technique, sophisticated command
of the keyboard idiom, and personal stylistic gestures, to make
his music distinctive. Wakeman finds the right instrument for
the part, and then performs upon it idiomatically, all the while
maintaining his unique, instantly recognizable personal style.
In addition to being a pioneering synthesist, Wakeman has used
piano, Hammond organ, pipe organ, harpsichord, Mellotron, and
full orchestra for his musical palette. Scarcely an electronic
or electric keyboard has been released in the last twenty five
years that has escaped Wakeman’s scrutiny; the good ones inevitably
appear on his albums. His knack for careful, subtle orchestration
has helped his music to withstand the test of time. In today’s
music industry, synthesized timbres are overused, worn out, and
quickly replaced by the “next big sound.” Though most popular
music sounds dated and stale within a decade, Wakeman’s best works,
such as “Roundabout,” “And You, and I,” and “Awaken” still sound
fresh and aurally stimulating, some twenty years after they were
recorded. In this paper, I will examine a number of these seminal
pieces, looking at the techniques, sounds, and performances he
used to make them interesting both then and now.
Personal History
Richard Wakeman was born on May 18th, 1949, to a middle class
couple living in a suburb of London. His father Cyril was a part-time
pianist, who started Rick with classical piano lessons at the
age of seven. Though a rebellious student, who preferred rearranging
his classical pieces to practicing scales, Rick won piano competitions
throughout his childhood. At 16, he decided to become a concert
pianist. Shortly thereafter, he passed his O and A levels in music,
and was accepted into the Royal College of Music in London. He
soon decided to forego the career of a concert pianist, citing
the slim chances for success, low income, and intense competition.
Wakeman changed his major to music education, but soon found that
he “made a very bad teacher. If I was teaching a class where only
two [students] were interested I couldn’t bear it. Music in schools
is often treated as the joke period of the week.(1)”
Wakeman’s Session Work
During this same period, Wakeman began playing rock recording
sessions. As his reputation grew, he became busier. The freedom
and improvisational aspects of rock music began to win out over
the traditionalism of an academic system that Rick felt ever more
removed from. Sessions soon came at an average of more than one
per day. What little spare time Wakeman had left was spent in
the pub rather than class. To the horror of his parents, he finally
dropped out of the Royal College to concentrate on sessions and
dance band gigs full time. Though Wakeman’s rigorous classical
training may have seemed fruitless at the time, it would soon
become a crucial part of his overall sound. The deep familiarity
with classical techniques, colors, and repertoire would be applied
to Wakeman’s electronic and acoustic rock music, allowing him
to fuse the styles authentically.
Among the thousands of songs Wakeman contributed keyboards to
as a faceless, often uncredited studio musician, were a few gems
that would become huge hits. One of these was the song “Space
Oddity,” by a then-unknown musician named David Bowie. Wakeman
was hired to play Mellotron on the session, and arrived late.
He scanned the song chart, listened to one run-through, and began
to play. According to producer Gus Dudgeon, his performance was
“exactly what I wanted. It was incredible! We did one more take
and it was a master.”(2)
A fine example of Wakeman’s emerging piano style can be found
on the 1971 Cat Stevens song “Morning Has Broken.” By this time,
Wakeman was being given creative latitude on some sessions. On
“Morning Has Broken,” Wakeman worked directly with Cat Stevens
and producer Paul Samwell-Smith in shaping the song:
We brought it up from nothing and worked out different ways of
doing it, working from a little old hymn book. . . they were sessions
where I was allowed a bit of freedom to contribute what I wanted,
not what either the musical director or the producer wanted me
to play.(3)
The sessions came fast and furious. Wakeman played for such diverse
artists as Elton John, Black Sabbath, Brotherhood of Man, and
T. Rex. He was introduced to Dave Cousins, leader of a folk group
named The Strawbs, and played some piano sessions for their album
Dragonfly. The band was in a transition from pure folk music to pop, and
they eventually asked Wakeman to join. Wakeman, wanting to gain
public exposure and feeling constrained by constant sessions,
agreed: “I had become disillusioned with session work. I was getting
good bread, but I wasn’t getting a chance to be part of the music:
You’re in there for three hours and then you’re out again.”(4)
The Strawbs
Joining the Strawbs was the right move for Wakeman’s career. The
group proved to be the perfect vehicle to showcase his virtuosity,
as his keyboards served as the solo instrument in place of the
standard electric guitar. His extended neo-classical piano solos
brought the attention of the music press, as well as the appreciation
of a growing number of fans. The Strawbs began to receive a great
deal of publicity, mostly focusing on Wakeman. For example, Melody Maker referred to him as the “Pop Find of 1970.”(5) Wakeman recorded two albums as a full-fledged member of the Strawbs:
Just a Collection of Antiques and Curios, and From the Witchwood. Antiques and Curios was a live album, recorded at the Queen Elizabeth Hall, while
Witchwood was a studio record. Though both of these albums were successful,
tensions began to drive Wakeman apart from the rest of the group.
Though the members of the group had a strong social bond, Wakeman
began to feel limited by the technique and musical direction of
his bandmates. Cousins knew the end was near, stating later that
“I knew we could keep Rick for as long as we were able to keep
him musically interested–after a year we knew we weren’t progressing
at the same rate he was.”(6) Wakeman felt that “things had gone as far as they could. There
would have to be a complete change-around or it would have rotted
away.”(7)
Yes and the Progressive Rock Phenomena
One night Wakeman received a 3 a.m. phone call from Chris Squire,
the bassist for Yes. They were dissatisfied with the limitations
of their current keyboardist, Tony Kaye, and were looking for
a replacement with strong technique and an interest in synthesizers.
Exhausted, Wakeman yelled at Squire and slammed the phone down.
The next morning, “I raked through my record collection and pulled
out . . . Time and a Word. I played it and thought. . . Maybe I shouldn’t have said no.
. . after all.”(8) Wakeman reconsidered Yes’ offer, and shortly thereafter entered
into the most musically significant time of his career.
In one of the few scholarly articles available on progressive
rock, Nors S. Josephson views the genre as “another manifestation
of the twentieth-century’s tendency to synthesize the avant-garde.
. . with popular traditions, much as. . . Bartok, Janacek, and
Stravinsky amalgamated their own folk heritages with twentieth-century
art music.”(9) Progressive rock itself is derived as strongly from Bach and
Bartok as from the Beatles. In the late sixties, this art form
was being defined in Britain, by groups with such names as Pink
Floyd, The Nice, The Moody Blues, and Procol Harum. The next generation
of bands, such as King Crimson, Emerson, Lake and Palmer, Genesis,
and Yes, focused the style in a more virtuosic and classically-oriented
direction. All of these groups, but the second generation in particular,
were concerned with stretching the rock form beyond the blues,
beyond slick pop and experimental psychedelia, into a more substantial
and sophisticated style. “Songwriting” was replaced with “composing”;
“players” had to become “musicians”. Instrumentalists of the caliber
of Robert Fripp, Carl Palmer, Keith Emerson, and Chris Squire
were showing the world that rock musicians could and would be
taken seriously. The three-minute pop song had already been extended,
expanded, and run through the psychedelic wringer by such artists
as The Doors, Cream, Jimi Hendrix, and, most importantly, The
Beatles. Progressive rock took the psychedelicized pop song and
turned it into a multi-movement, multi-style extravaganza running
from six minutes to over an hour.
Genesis approached progressive rock from a theatrical perspective,
with front man Peter Gabriel donning costumes and role-playing.
His narrations of stream-of-consciousness stories floated above
the rigidly composed, highly structured, diatonic music of Tony
Banks, Mike Rutherford, Steve Hackett, and Phil Collins. Fripp’s
King Crimson was darker and more sinister. Successfully fusing
improvisation with highly complex composed material, King Crimson
explored the nether regions of dissonance more than their counterparts.
Emerson, Lake, and Palmer made the strongest connection between
rock and traditional classical music, playing arrangements of
works by such composers as Copland, Ginastera, Holst, and Tchaikovsky.
Yes were the angels of progressive rock, with bright, major harmonies,
uplifting, spiritually-tinged (soaked?) lyrics, and contrapuntal,
choirboy vocal exchanges between Squire and lead singer Jon Anderson.
Wakeman’s addition brought the keyboard sounds and technique needed
to allow Yes to fully realize and explore their established direction.
Before Wakeman, Yes had released three albums. Their self-titled
debut album, and Time and a Word were studies in a band searching for direction. The Yes Album was work by a band who had found their niche and were starting
to explore it; “Yours is No Disgrace,” “Starship Trooper,” and
“I’ve Seen All Good People” are Yes classics. But Yes truly hit
their stride when Wakeman joined. They had finally found a keyboard
player whose virtuosity and individuality matched the skills of
the other members.
The release of Fragile in January, 1972 proved that Yes had found something that worked.
Producer Eddy Offord helped Yes find a larger band sound, creating
long works peppered with bits of musique concrète and separated
by short, esoteric solo interludes. The result was a highly varied
and experimental album, with long moments of brilliance broken
up by short, perhaps less successful passages. “Long Distance
Runaround” is a catchy pop song, with contrapuntal bass and guitar
lines dancing around the vocal melody. “Heart of the Sunrise”
extends the epic explorations of such works as “Yours is No Disgrace,”
standing as one of the pinnacles of Yes’ work and pointing the
way toward the larger song forms of the next few albums. But it
was “Roundabout,” an 8 1/2-minute rocker with a multitude of textures
and scorching Hammond B3 work by Wakeman, that brought Yes to
the radios of America, and stardom.
Wakeman’s second album with Yes, Close to the Edge, was released in September, 1972, a mere eight months after Fragile. The complexity, innovation, and brilliance of the work seems
all the more astonishing in light of the hectic touring schedule
and change in lifestyle undergone by the band in the previous
months. Yet Yes had equaled the achievement of Fragile, expanding their exploration of epic, multi-movement song forms.
Close to the Edge consists of three long pieces. The title track,
clocking in at nearly nineteen minutes and taking all of side
one, was their most ambitious work to date, integrating a large
number of themes and colors into a consistent whole. “Siberian
Khatru” is an up-tempo, joyous rocker. “And You and I” rounds
out the album, with Wakeman’s analog synthesizer sounds creating
a rich contrast with Steve Howe’s delicate acoustic guitar work
and Jon Anderson’s innocent, sing-song vocal lines.
1972 brought yet another project: this was Wakeman’s first solo
album, The Six Wives of Henry VIII. Written and recorded during the brief gaps in Yes’ touring schedule,
Six Wives is an instrumental, programmatic concept album. The Eurocentric,
quasi-historical program material was a departure from the Eastern
philosophies of the seventies-era Yes, though the grandeur and
preoccupation with large-scale ideas are similar. Wakeman would
use history, royalty, and mythical material for many of his solo
concept albums, including Journey to the Centre of the Earth, The Myths and Legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round
Table, Rick Wakeman’s Criminal Record, and A Suite of Gods.
The Beginnings of Wakeman’s Solo Career
The Six Wives of Henry VIII was released in January, 1973; reaction to the album was positive,
with Wakeman described as having a “brilliant feel for tasteful
impressionistic composition.”(10)
Six Wives has much of the character of a Yes album of the period; this
comes as no surprise, as Yesmen Chris Squire, Steve Howe, Bill
Bruford, and Alan White appear on the record. There are distinct
differences, however. Six Wives is an instrumental keyboard album, with a strong baroque flavor.
The lively rock numbers have a humor that is missing from Yes
music. Wakeman’s extensive use of acoustic and electric keyboards
as a replacement for traditional orchestral instruments is manifestly
clear.
Yes’ level of musical success could not be sustained. 1973’s Tales From Topographic Oceans created musical rifts that would cause Wakeman to leave the group.
Written by Anderson and Howe, and based on a footnote from Paramhansa
Yoganada’s Autobiography of a Yogi, Tales would prove to be Yes’ longest and most experimental work. Composed
of four album-side long movements, the 81-minute piece was the
logical culmination of Yes’ epic-length explorations. The quest
for longer, larger statements created a work that had wonderful
moments, but lacked cohesiveness. Wakeman was unhappy with the
album’s rambling, through-composed quality, feeling unable to
contribute: “When we started doing Topographic Oceans, I found that I couldn’t find anything to put in. I knew the
right bits to play, but I couldn’t put anything in that I felt
added something. . . when we did it on stage, I found it pretty
boring.”(11) Jon Anderson had a different perspective on the piece: “we went
to a kind of extreme with Topographic, and maybe we weren’t all ready for it. . . It was a bit heavyweight, maybe overweight. But you just do what comes.”(12)
Wakeman’s Departure From Yes, and the Continuation of his Solo
Career
What came to Yes was not what Wakeman wanted. The Tales tour began,
with the unfamiliar work falling on the ears of a perplexed audience.
Wakeman insisted that the third movement be cut from the set.
The band agreed. Midway through, Wakeman informed Yes that he
was leaving at the end of the tour. He later summarized this era
rather succinctly: “I had some great times and some lousy times.
It was a band that was bonded together by music–there was little
love lost. . . I didn’t enjoy Tales. . . so I finished out the. . . tour we were doing and left.”(13)
Wakeman wrote and recorded his second solo album, Journey to the Centre of the Earth, in between the recording and touring of Tales From Topographic Oceans. Released in early 1974, and based on the story by Jules Verne,
Journey was Wakeman’s clearest attempt to fuse the worlds of classical
music and rock. A piece of program music in four movements, Journey was written and orchestrated for full symphony orchestra, choir,
narrator, and six-piece rock group. Wakeman was finally able to
utilize the traditional timbres that he had been emulating on
synthesizer. He wrote the music by recording keyboard demos, then
worked with a pair of professional arrangers to score for full
orchestra and choir.
Journey to the Centre of the Earth was an enormous undertaking. The logistics of balancing and organizing
the rock band, orchestra, choir, lead singers, narrator, and synthesizers
became a daunting challenge. David Measham was recruited to conduct
the London Symphony Orchestra and the English Chamber Choir. English
actor David Hemmings served as narrator, summarizing the story
during breaks in the music. Finally, the album was recorded live
in front of an audience on January 18, 1974, at the Royal Festival
Hall in London. To everyone’s surprise, Journey reached number one in the British album charts. The reviews were
positive as well: one reviewer described it as “symphonic pop
embellished by tasteful interludes, superb narration, nice obbligatos,
clever solos from Wakeman and a decent respect for the norms of
symphonic construction.” He went on to say “there can be little
doubt that it’s in directions like these that Wakeman’s future
now lies. . . he has a disciplined musical head and it shows.”(14) All that was separating Wakeman from this future was the above-mentioned
final Tales tour with Yes.
With Yes behind him for the time being, Wakeman embarked on the
solo career begun by The Six Wives of Henry VIII and Journey to the Centre of the Earth. Unfortunately, this new career began with a heart attack brought
on by his exhausting schedule combined with substantial consumption
of alcohol and cigarettes. Following a brief recovery and a grueling
tour of the United States, Wakeman began his newest epic: The Myths and Legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round
Table. The record’s seven tracks describe characters and stories from
the Arthurian legend. The musical orchestration is similar to
Journey to the Centre of the Earth; rock band, lead singers, orchestra, choir, and a narrator are
used.
In an attempt to reach new heights of entertainment, Wakeman staged
King Arthur on ice. The reviews of the music and performance were mixed;
Wakeman was accused of creating superficial music. One critic
felt that “The show. . . proved [Wakeman's] skill at packaging
a pleasant evening’s entertainment. But he’s done so at the expense
of attention to his music. That four knights on skates could command
one’s senses while scores of musicians made an ignored din just
ten yards away said little for the appeal of the music itself.”(15)
A series of less than stellar works followed. Wakeman scored two
films: Ken Russell’s Lisztomania (1975), and a skiing film named White Rock (1976). He also released No Earthly Connection (1976), an album made with his band “The English Rock Ensemble.”
While all of these albums are filled with Wakeman’s fine playing,
the pieces themselves lack inspiration and focus. It was becoming
clear that his best work occurred within a collaborative environment.
The Return to Yes
Such a collaborative environment appeared in 1977. Patrick Moraz,
Wakeman’s replacement in Yes, had left the band, and Wakeman offered
to play on the new album as a session musician. He received demos
of new songs that were shorter, tighter, and catchier than the
works that had caused him to quit the first time. “What I heard
was not the Yes that I had left. . . this is how I’ve always seen
the band.”(16)
Yes asked Wakeman to rejoin as an official member. He eagerly
accepted, and work began on the first new Yes studio album in
three years: Going For the One. The result was perhaps the most uniform Yes album ever recorded.
Going For the One did not break as much new ground as Fragile or Close to the Edge, but every song was a diverse, mature, well-rounded work. There
were no experiments gone awry, no awkward ideas. Wakeman’s return
combined with Yes’ time away from the studio brought refreshed
energy to the album.
The title song, “Going For the One,” is an uncharacteristically
hard-rocking number, with blues licks played in odd time signatures
by piano and guitar. “Turn of the Century” is a lush, delicate,
neo-classical piece based on the story from La Boheme. It features a through-composed, unmetered feel, as Howe’s nylon
string guitar follows Anderson’s blank verse. Wakeman builds the
piece, adding cascading piano arpeggios and synthesized string
accompaniment. “Wondrous Stories” is a short, joyous song in the
style of “And You, And I,” with Wakeman’s analog synthesizer lines
creating contrast with Anderson’s innocent vocal melodies and
Howe’s straight-ahead steel-string guitar strums. All of these
pieces show mature and effective composition and performance;
the band had seamlessly picked up where it left off with Wakeman’s
1974 departure. The crowning piece of Going For the One, however, is the majestic “Awaken,” a 15-minute epic that re-establishes
the power of such works as “Close to the Edge” and “Heart of the
Sunrise.” Beginning with a neo-romantic piano introduction, moving
characteristically through a number of moods and textures, and
ending with a bombastic climax featuring pipe organ, “Awaken”
is Yes at its best.
A revitalized Wakeman released a fresh and interesting solo concept
album in 1977. Rick Wakeman’s Criminal Record consists of pieces based on famous criminals, and ideas relating
to justice. The pipe organ used on Going For the One is used here as well, and Wakeman’s keyboards are bolstered on
several cuts by Yes’ rhythm section of Squire and White. A complete
choir is used on the piece “Judas Iscariot,” hearkening back to
the bombastic days of Journey to the Centre of the Earth. One reviewer wrote that “Wakeman plays and arranges here with
the confidence, vitality and clearness of vision that has been
missing in his last few outings.”(17)
1978 brought forth another Yes album. Entitled Tormato, this collection of short (by Yes’ standards, in any case) songs
lacks the consistency and flow of Going For the One, though some shining work is present. “Don’t Kill the Whale,”
the quirky single for the album, has strong melodies and a reedy,
bubbly keyboard solo. “On the Silent Wings of Freedom” is an extended,
high energy work with complex time signatures and interesting
instrumental interchanges. The best song on the album, however,
is the neo-baroque Anderson/Wakeman piece “Madrigal.” This song
combines Wakeman’s delicate harpsichord arpeggios with Howe’s
nylon string guitar stylings to create a contrapuntal base that
supports Anderson’s rhythmically free flowing lyrics. The elegance
and beauty of “Madrigal” is comparable to the previous album’s
“Turn of the Century.”
Wakeman’s Solo Career in the Eighties
Things began to splinter once again. In 1979, Wakeman left Yes
for the second time. Anderson left with him; Yes carried on by
releasing the Drama LP. The band then went into hibernation, and would re-emerge
a few years later with a more accessible, stripped-down pop sound.
Meanwhile, Wakeman released Rhapsodies in 1979, a double album featuring a disco remake of George Gershwin’s
“Rhapsody in Blue.” Rhapsodies would be Wakeman’s last for A? Records, which distributed his
work in the U.S. After that, and through most of the eighties,
Wakeman practically vanished from the American music scene. Though
he was more successful in Europe, his string of solo albums did
not realize the commercial success achieved by his work from the
seventies. Wakeman recalls that “during that time. . . the New
Wave revolution happened, which meant that if you had anything
to do with the Seventies. . . you couldn’t get arrested! . . .
No one wanted to know, especially in America.”(18)
Throughout most of the eighties, many of Wakeman’s solo albums
were released on a number of medium-size record labels, including
Virgin and Relativity. He also released six albums on President,
his own label. All told, Wakeman released fourteen solo albums
in the eighties, mostly in small numbers, and now mostly out of
print. A good deal of fine music was thus released to a small
but appreciative audience, most notably A Suite of Gods (1987) and Country Airs (1985). Both of these albums marked a transition from classical
rock into a gentler, more subtle music, perhaps best described
as “classical new age.” A Suite of Gods combined Wakeman with tenor Ramon Remedios to create a concept
album based on stories from Greek mythology. Though the subject
matter is reminiscent of his mid-seventies solo albums, A Suite of Gods paints a more pastoral picture; Remedios’ operatic tenor lies
awash in reverb, and is supported by gentle, synthesized strings
and chordal pads (long, sustained background sounds that are generally
used to define harmonies).
Country Airs was a significant departure for Wakeman. The album is a collection
of short, solo new age piano pieces, with a nod to the style of
George Winston. On first listening, one would not know that this
was Wakeman. The pieces are simple and highly diatonic, with limited
dynamics and rubato. Simple verse/chorus/bridge structures, slow
to medium tempi, and straightforward duple and tuple meters abound.
Right hand melodies are brought very much to the foreground over
motoric left hand bass notes and arpeggios. The unaccompanied,
unadorned sound of a grand piano is uncharacteristic as well.
Upon closer inspection, however, certain familiar tendencies emerge.
Most noticeable are Wakeman’s characteristic baroque turns, used
during scalar passages and arpeggios.
Though Country Airs is not Wakeman’s finest album, it has charm, and delivers new
insight into the performer. It is refreshing to hear live, naked
piano recordings, complete with occasional split notes and rhythmic
irregularities. Country Airs highlights the sensitive, intimate playing that Wakeman is capable
of, but which is usually obscured by complexity, thick textures,
and large-scale production.
During this time, Wakeman followed the transition in technology
from analog instruments to digital synthesizers, samplers, and
recorders. The new computer-based technology made the process
of creating and recording electronic music much easier; legions
of amateurs and dilettantes began to create albums. This glut
of superficial music began to monopolize the music scene. In Wakeman’s
hands, however, the additional timbres allowed him to expand his
sound, though he still made use of his analog instruments where
appropriate. On A Suite of Gods, for example, he used “digital keyboards to make it as orchestrally
authentic as possible. But we found that adding tinges of analog
stuff all over the place gave it a flavor that was really unusual.”(19)
The Third Installation in the Wakeman/Yes Saga
The end of the eighties brought a new collaboration that would
bring Wakeman and his music back into the public eye, creating
a wider forum for his new digital orchestrations. 1989’s Anderson Bruford Wakeman Howe represented a return to the Yes sounds and philosophies of the
seventies. The band, consisting of four-fifths of the Fragile/Close to the Edge Yes lineup (along with Peter Gabriel/King Crimson bassist Tony
Levin), created an effective, complex collection of short songs
and multi-movement large scale works. The virtuosic playing, cosmic
lyrics, expansive sounds, and cover art by Roger Dean combined
to create an updated version of vintage seventies progressive
rock. While the album met with mixed reviews (and downright hostility
from trendy critics who consider progressive rock to be outdated
“dinosaur music”), old Yes fans were ecstatic. “Birthright,” a
song about the Aborigines, features Wakeman utilizing samples
of Pacific rim instruments. “Brother of Mine,” a ten-minute epic,
uses string, brass, piano, harp, and harpsichord-type sounds to
augment the sectional changes with changes in texture. “Themes”
uses quirky chordal piano stabs, and a classic Wakeman harpsichord/brass
solo played in tandem with Bill Bruford’s percolating electric
drum soundscapes to propel the piece forward.
In 1990, Anderson, Bruford, Wakeman and Howe were nearing completion
of their 2nd album. The remaining members of Yes–Chris Squire,
Trevor Rabin, Alan White, and Tony Kaye–were recording as well.
The two groups decided to merge into a new Yes, combining their
recordings into a single album. 1991’s Union was the result. While there are some good works on this album,
it is far less consistent than Anderson Bruford Wakeman Howe. The biggest problem is the use of keyboards. Wakeman was unavailable
during parts of the recording process due to prior commitments,
and was left out of the mixing process. Producer Jonathan Elias,
who Wakeman “wouldn’t trust with a food mixer,”(20) used session keyboardists and changed Wakeman’s parts and sounds
without consulting him. This caused an uproar among Wakeman’s
fans. Fortunately, the next Yes album (currently scheduled for
release in July, 1993) will not make use of Elias’ intrusive and
destructive touch.
A Look at Wakeman’s Diverse Use of Keyboard Sound
What follows is a more analytical look at Wakeman’s use of texture
and color. While a focus will be placed on particular instruments
or genres of instruments and their use in conveying a song’s message,
it is within the complimentary and contrasting uses of tone color
that Wakeman truly shines. As a result, comments about the use
of particular instruments in songs will take into account the
musical context and surrounding instrumentation.
Piano
As mentioned, the piano was Wakeman’s first instrument. Studying
classical piano gave him the technique and sensitivity that would
become the foundation of his rock style. The classical elements
of his playing remain unique and characteristic throughout his
career, and across varied musical contexts. Wakeman’s 1971 piano
session for the Cat Stevens song “Morning Has Broken” illustrates
his individual pianistic tendencies. After Steven’s vocal line,
Wakeman’s piano is the primary melody instrument. The arrangement
is fairly simple, consisting of voice, piano, acoustic guitar,
bass, and backing vocals. The acoustic guitar recording emphasizes
the high end, leaving the mid-range open for piano and voice.
Solo piano opens and closes the piece; a short solo piano melody
occurs between verses as well. During the verses, cascading arpeggio
figures act as a counter-melody, contrasting with the simple but
highly effective vocal lines. The arpeggios are unmistakably Wakeman,
with quick turns that break up the continual descent. The motoric
eighth- and sixteenth-notes, strong emphasis on plain triads and
dominant seventh chords, and delicate dynamics are also characteristic
of Wakeman’s piano playing.
It is interesting to compare “Morning Has Broken” with “Stepping
Stones,” a new age solo piano piece from 1985’s Country Airs. While the texture and function of the piano within these pieces
are totally different, and fourteen years separate the recordings,
there are similarities that make Wakeman’s piano style and ear
for orchestration evident. In “Stepping Stones,” the melody is
clearly articulated in the right hand, as the left hand supports
with a muted, constant stream of motoric sixteenth-note arpeggios.
Bass notes define the harmony once per bar or so. Scalar descending
melodies with the characteristic Wakeman turn contrast the vocally-oriented
main theme. “Stepping Stones” has a clear song-like verse structure,
with a dynamic range that does not stray much beyond pp to mf. The mood is gentle, even, and contemplative. The lyrical melody
line, motoric arpeggios, bass line, and descending counter-melody
of “Stepping Stones” perform the same functions as the vocal melody,
rhythm guitar, bass, and piano counter-melodies of “Morning Has
Broken.”
Harpsichord
While studying piano at the Royal College of Music, Wakeman took
every opportunity to sneak off and practice harpsichord. This
practice paid off, as Wakeman would later feature the instrument
in numerous recordings. Some of his finest harpsichord playing
occurs on Tormato’s “Madrigal.” This song begins with a short harpsichord introduction
in pure baroque style. As Anderson’s rhythmically-free blank verse
begins, the harpsichord switches to a relatively sparse broken
chord accompaniment in eighth- and sixteenth-notes. As the song
builds, the density of notes increases. Howe joins in on nylon
string guitar, playing similarly authentic contrapuntal classical
guitar lines. Wakeman and Howe play short duet sections to break
up the vocal sections. Vocal ‘ahhs’ and a simple synthesized string
line enter halfway through to fill out the texture. In the final
verse, Wakeman pushes the song to its climax by building the accompaniment
to blinding flurries of sixteenth-note triplets and thirty-second-notes.
The combination of virtuosic, authentically-styled playing, lush
textures, and heroic yet quirky vocal melodies is what made Yes’
style so distinctive, whether playing a hard rock song, or a modern-day
neo-baroque piece such as “Madrigal.”
Intent on driving the point home (and perhaps a bit too far),
Yes produced a short film version of “Madrigal,” in which Wakeman,
dressed in Seventeenth-century garb, performs the piece in a palatial
music room, for onlooking royalty. The other musicians appear
within the harpsichord and standing on the keys, as Wakeman’s
fingers fly by.
Hammond Organ
Since the sixties, the Hammond organ has been the quintessential
rock keyboard. From Gregg Allman to Keith Emerson, Jon Lord to
Brent Mydland, Lee Michaels to Matthew Fisher, the Hammond organ
has allowed keyboardists the power and sound to compete with electric
guitar. The drawbars allow the keyboardist to shape the timbre
by mixing overtones in the desired proportions. The percussion
switch determines whether an audible click will be heard at the
beginning of each note. Leslie rotating speakers add motion to
the sound, by creating an adjustable tremolo/doppler effect. Finally,
keyboardists can personalize the sound further by running it through
such devices as guitar amplifiers, distortion units, and phasers.
All in all, the Hammond is capable of a wide variety of colors.
Rick Wakeman used the Hammond as a primary component of his early
sound. He played the instrument idiomatically, making use of the
various colors, and adding interest by changing the drawbar values
during the course of a piece: “I never keep the same setting from
the beginning of a piece to the end. . . I think you have to keep
playing with the drawbars constantly or it gets stale. It’s like
playing a Polymoog and just using one preset all night. It’d get
boring and unimaginative.”(21)
“Roundabout,” from Fragile, exemplifies Wakeman’s Hammond style. He uses a regal, full setting
on the choruses, outlining the chords with sixteenth-note arpeggios.
During brief instrumental breaks between verses, he contrasts
the organ sound with a reed-like synthesizer. Halfway through
the song, the momentum is dissipated and a quiet, non-percussive
section begins. Wakeman chooses sounds that will directly contrast
with the Hammond: first a watery, mellow synthesizer playing gentle
arpeggios, then a Mellotron flute patch playing chord pads. This
is all a setup for the frenetic keyboard solo that follows, incorporating
blues licks and played with a thin, edgy, distorted Hammond sound
run through a quickly-rotating Leslie speaker. The contrast and
setup has its intended effect, creating a cathartic moment that
propels the song through a energetic guitar-keyboard duet, a final
verse, and a coda that recapitulates the nylon-string guitar intro,
ending on a tonic borrowed from the parallel major key.
Pipe Organ
Though the Hammond organ has often been used to simulate the sound
of a pipe organ, the electro-mechanical tone wheels cannot capture
the depth and majesty of the real thing; electrically-blended
sine waves can not create the same complex structure of harmonics
as air being blown through multiple pipes, mixing together within
an acoustically resonant space. On “Awaken,” the epic from Going For the One, Wakeman played the pipe organ at St. Martin’s Church in Vevey,
Switzerland. The organ brought enormous power to the final, climactic
section of the work. The idea of using a church organ fit very
well with the spiritual content of the lyrics, which concern themselves
with the enlightenment of humankind.
On “Awaken,” Wakeman actually recorded the church organ over a
telephone line. The rest of the band was back in the studio, listening
and recording their parts simultaneously. According to Wakeman,
“We did it that way because that’s the way things are done in
Switzerland. . . Their telephone lines are the highest quality
you can imagine. . . It was great. The pipe organ was recorded
direct to the studio.”(22)
“Awaken” begins with a solo piano introduction, played in a fast,
neo-romantic style. The first verse begins, consisting of a longing,
reverberant vocal melody over an ethereal wash of synthesizers
and guitar. The full band enters, creating a churning, pulsing
bed for Anderson and Squire’s ascending harmonies. Unison synthesizer
and guitar lines appear between vocal sections, and a contrapuntal
synthesizer solo steers the piece into a large choral section.
The pipe organ makes its entrance, bringing the piece to its first
large climax. A long, quiet fantasy ensues, with a chiming, drone-like
ostinato played by crotales. The pipe organ plays a series of
descending scalar lines, in contrast to the ascending scalar motives
sung by Anderson and Squire earlier. Occasional harp plucks and
Mellotron choirs enter the scene to add color. Wakeman begins
a long, slow build by changing organ stops from an intimate setting
to a louder, timbrally richer tone. He gradually adds harmony
notes to his scalar lines, until full chords emerge. A guitar
melody ushers in the whole band again, closing the fantasy and
entering a climactic vocal section. Choirs and frenetic guitar
accompany the organ, now playing large chords and pedals with
all stops out. The band drops away for a moment as Wakeman plays
an ascending thirty-second-note run, bringing the piece to a final,
bombastic climax. One last ethereal verse functions as a coda,
ramping the piece slowly back down to nothingness.
“Awaken” was the last, and perhaps the finest, of Yes’ great epic
works. Aside from creating a dramatic and full sound, Wakeman’s
church organ playing underlines the spiritual content of the lyrics,
and loosely connects the piece to long-standing traditions of
church music.
Mellotron
The Mellotron is a unique instrument. Invented in the late sixties,
it works by having an internal rack filled with strips of 1/4-inch
recording tape. Upon each strip of tape is a recording of a particular
instrument at a particular pitch. Pressing a key causes the corresponding
tape to be moved past a playback head. One can thus change the
sounds by changing the tape racks. In effect, this makes the Mellotron
the world’s only analog sample playback device.
Embraced by keyboard players looking to add orchestral sounds
to their arsenal, the Mellotron was an instant hit among the psychedelic
and progressive rock communities. The default tape rack that came
with the instrument contained choir, string section, and flute
sounds. The flute introduction to The Beatles’ “Strawberry Fields
Forever” (1967) is one of the earliest recorded examples of the
Mellotron. The Mellotron was used extensively by such groups as
The Moody Blues, Genesis, and King Crimson. As Yes was phasing
out Tony Kaye, they were looking for a keyboard player who would
bring orchestral sounds to their music. Wakeman, with his Mellotron
and synthesizer experience, was a natural.
The Mellotron is primarily a “filler” instrument. The mechanical
configuration makes it difficult to play quick runs reliably,
and most of the sounds, such as the choir and string settings,
are recordings of large ensembles playing or singing single notes.
Wakeman capitalized on the strengths of the instrument, using
it primarily to add strategically-placed color. His first well-known
Mellotron work is on the David Bowie hit “2001: A Space Oddity”
(1970). Waiting until the second verse to heighten the drama,
Wakeman’s Mellotron string pads add a sense of pathos and longing
to the acoustic guitar-dominated arrangement. Open chord voicings,
reverberation, and proper mixing heighten Wakeman’s illusion of
a string ensemble.
In Yes’ music, Wakeman would often use the Mellotron for slower,
regal passages, representing feelings of resolution and arrival.
In “And You And I” from Fragile, a single Mellotron string note emerges from a static vocal harmony
at the end of the “Cord of Life” section. This note acts as a
bridge to the slow, stately “Eclipse” section, where it blossoms
into full chords. The main theme is stated in the Mellotron string,
then gets passed off to and blended with other instruments. Wakeman
will often bring out themes by adding organ or synthesizer to
a Mellotron line, augmenting the Mellotron melody while leaving
the harmonies alone. At other times, he will use the Mellotron
to add subtle changes of texture to an existing part. An example
is on “Awaken,” where Wakeman extends the final, climactic pipe
organ chord by doubling with a Mellotron flute which comes up
briefly just as the organ chord dies away. This small touch enhances
the effect of the decrescendo by smoothly moving from a bright
timbre to a darker one as the sound fades.
Orchestra and Choir
Though Wakeman has made a career out of emulating classical instruments
with his keyboards, he has always taken advantage of the real
thing when the situation permits. His large-scale orchestral solo
works have earned him critical acclaim, and a certain level of
respect in classical circles. Journey to the Centre of the Earth was even performed some ten years after its release by a 300-piece
orchestra and choir of music students in Edinburgh, Scotland.(23)
In Journey to the Centre of the Earth, Wakeman uses the juxtaposition of rock band and orchestra to
manipulate color both horizontally and vertically. He creates
contrasting textures across time by arranging sections for different
groupings of instruments. Orchestral fanfares lead into sparse
pop tunes followed by funky rock band grooves. He also creates
new textures within sections by mixing blends of orchestral and
popular instruments. In general, Journey uses splashy, colorful orchestrations, grandiose instrumentation,
and continuously shifting textures. Wakeman (with the help of
his orchestrators), favors heroic brass fanfares for his primary
melodies. The strings and choir are used mostly for accompaniment,
creating chordal washes beneath the main action. Woodwinds are
often used to create counter-melodies, answering themes stated
in voice or brass. Percussion appears from time to time; chimes
and timpani are used for color and climax. At one point, a xylophone
plays a theme in tandem with the strings and flutes, adding a
crisp attack to the lush melody. Wakeman uses the orchestral instruments
in exactly the same way as he uses their keyboard analogs: brassy
and reedy synthesizers for melodies, and Mellotron strings and
choirs as chordal fill. Above the orchestra, often doubling the
melody with the brass, lies Wakeman’s solo synthesizer. His trademark
Minimoog portamentoed patch is the one cohesive element that ties
the multiple sections of Journey together. To make it work within the context of the orchestral
instruments, Wakeman makes it thinner and buzzier than he otherwise
might. Though this sound carries above the trumpets, it tends
to become fatiguing to the ear. The narrow range of partials present
in the sound give it less timbral interest than most of his other
analog synthesizer sounds, particularly when heard against the
richness of the brass instruments.
Journey opens with a brash, orchestral introduction, focusing on brass
and strings. Wakeman’s synthesizer doubles the opening heroic
theme with the brass. This is followed by a sparse band arrangement
of a pop song, with a light woodwind accompaniment. He builds
the song as he would a piece with Yes: strings and choir enter
halfway through to add drama. The song fades into a narrative
passage, designed to directly illustrate the programmatic content
of the work. Sectional contrasts continue as the rock band jams
on an instrumental reminiscent of The Six Wives of Henry VIII. This is followed by a gentle, transitional section built from
strings, horns, and harp.
What makes Journey to the Centre of the Earth particularly interesting is the continual juxtaposition of instruments
that normally inhabit the separate worlds of rock and classical
music. This successful marriage of two diverse genres is the outward
manifestation of an artist who stands straddling both.
Analog Synthesizers
The emergence of portable synthesizers in the early seventies
created a revolution in rock. An entirely new genre of instrument
was introduced. These instruments had an unprecedented ability
to create and control customized electronic sounds quickly and
easily. Though the early portable synthesizers were expensive
and had problems with tuning stability and reliability, they quickly
found their way into the rigs of most rock keyboard players. Wakeman
was at the forefront of synthesizer exploration, creating distinctive
timbres from the new instruments: “When I got my first synths,
there was no such thing as presets. You made your own sounds.
You had to. Though we didn’t know it at the time, that’s what
made you identifiable.”(24)
The early synthesizers were all monophonic. In addition, the inherent
nature of the synthesizer design made them good for roughly emulating
brass and woodwind sounds. As a result, Wakeman tended to use
analog synthesizers as soloing, melody, and special effect instruments,
with polyphonic instruments such as piano, organ, or Mellotron
filling in chords. He would also multi-track layers of monophonic
synthesizers with different timbres, mimicking the sound of a
chamber ensemble.
Wakeman, Emerson, and Banks evolved solo synthesizer sounds that
had commonalties which made the type of sound synonymous with
progressive rock. Though their sounds had different types of overtone
structures, and thus distinct timbres, they all used portamento.
In electronic music terminology, portamento refers to a smooth,
timed pitch glide between notes, rather than distinct pitch changes.
This type of sound is very pleasing, creating a bouncy, rubbery
connection between notes. Emerson’s use of portamento can be heard
on the solo to “Lucky Man,” from Emerson, Lake and Palmer (1971), while Banks uses this effect in the solo to “In The Cage,”
from Genesis’ The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway (1974).
Wakeman’s use of a reedy or brass-like portamento-based solo sound
can be heard on most of his recordings during the seventies. In
“And You, And I,” Wakeman uses this sound over tranquil acoustic
guitar for the opening melodies to the first and third movements;
he also uses it for the keyboard solo in the third movement. In
the second section of “Catherine of Howard” from The Six Wives of Henry VIII, Wakeman places this sound against an uptempo rock rhythm section,
creating gliding melodies over a hard, percussive groove. Wakeman
uses it again in yet a different context in Journey to the Centre of the Earth, as the above-described buzzy, ubiquitous accompaniment to the
orchestra.
Wakeman used analog synthesizers for other types of effects as
well. Most of his sounds have been pitch-based and instrumental
in character, leaving the white noise winds and random-pitched
bloops and bleeps for other explorers of the electronic realm.
On the “Starlight Movement” section of “The Revealing Science
of God” from Tales From Topographic Oceans, Wakeman creates a high, bright, percussive, pitched clicking
sound. This sound comes in on the fourth beat of each bar, working
within the percussive framework to create an interesting accent.
The sound is pitched to G-sharp, the key of that section, and
thus creates a high pedal. Toward the end of “Jane Seymour,” from
Six Wives, Wakeman creates a synthesized low pedal tone that emerges from
the bass notes played on pipe organ. Starting as a drone in the
tonic of the piece, the pitch begins to wobble and destabilize,
before rocketing upward in pitch until it passes the threshold
of human hearing. This strange sound brings the baroque organ
piece into the present, adding a unique flavor and reminding us
of Wakeman’s penchant for merging the old with the new.
Digital Synthesizers
The emergence of digital technology during the mid-eighties brought
a profound change to Wakeman’s sound. Digital samplers and sample-playback
synthesizers (synthesizers that used samples of instruments instead
of analog oscillators for their basic waveforms) allowed Wakeman
to create new and subtle timbres that were previously impossible.
He felt that “when digital came, it was indeed like manna from
Heaven.”(25)
Wakeman capitalized on the new technology by layering instruments
together, taking the best elements of different sounds to create
a new one. On the intro to “Themes,” from Anderson Bruford Wakeman Howe, Wakeman plays piano motives against a synthesized ostinato.
The ostinato is made up of a breathy, flute-like percussion sound,
mixed with a bit of marimba and a high-pitched metallic plinking.
The ostinato repeats patterns of sixteenth-notes, as the timbre
subtly shifts from one instrumental emphasis to another. The flute
component’s decay changes, moving from a longer sound to a more
percussive one and back again. Wakeman’s solo in “Themes” uses
a percussive, harpsichord-like attack grafted to the body of a
brass sound. This allows his solo to be very distinct and audible
over a dense and fast-moving background.
Digital sampling has allowed Wakeman to explore ethnic flavors
from time to time. On Anderson Bruford Wakeman Howe’s “Birthright,”
a song about Pacific island Aborigines, Wakeman combines a sample
of a digeridoo with a bowed cello to create a menacing drone that
appears through most of the piece. Ethnic percussion mixes with
electronic drums, and nylon-string guitar contrasts with Anderson’s
Aboriginal chanting to create a synthesis of cultures. This type
of cultural mixing is also heard on A Suite of Gods, Wakeman’s concept album about Greek and Roman mythology. He
blends pan pipes and lyre-type sounds with his synthesized orchestral
timbres. This touch of flavor becomes especially important in
light of the straight, operatic delivery style of tenor Ramon
Remedios.
In Summary
Over a career that has spanned 25 years, Rick Wakeman has used
every keyboard instrument at his disposal to advance the exploration
of color within rock and classical contexts. His mixtures of old
and new instruments and styles have consistently created highly
distinctive and unique works. Both within Yes and on his own,
Wakeman has set standards of achievement that few other rock keyboardists
could possibly match. Through fleet-fingered, idiomatic playing,
careful listening, subtle, sophisticated use of tone color, and
sheer drive, Wakeman has created a large catalog of high-quality
music. May he continue to bring us his gifts far into the future.
End Notes
1) Michael Wale, “Pop-classical,” Melody Maker 22 August 1970.
2) Dan Wooding, Rick Wakeman: The Caped Crusader, London: Robert Hale Limited, 1978. 34.
4) Dominic Milano, “Rick Wakeman - The Great Orchestrator,” Rock Keyboard, Ed. Bob Doerschuk. New York: Quill, 1985. 68.
5) Mark Plummer, “Rick - pop find of 1970,” Melody Maker 25 July 1970: 29.
6) Andy Childs, “Ten Years of The Strawbs–Part Two 1970-1975,”
Zigzag June 1975: 31.
7) Milano, “The Great Orchestrator,” 68.
Wooding, Rick Wakeman, 67.9) Nors S. Josephson, “Bach Meets Liszt: Traditional Formal Structures
and Performance Practices in Progressive Rock,” The Musical Quarterly Spring 1992: 91.
10) Steve Apple, Rev. of The Six Wives of Henry VIII, by Rick
Wakeman, Rolling Stone 21 June 1973: 69.
11) Ira Robbins, “Wakeman Tells Yesstories,” Trouser Press June/July 1977:4.
12) Billy Altman, “Rick Wakeman Brings the Brew Back to Yes,”
Rolling Stone 6 October 1977: 21-25.
13) Milano, “The Great Orchestrator,” 68.
14) Tony Tyler, Rev. of Journey to the Centre of the Earth, by Rick Wakeman, New Musical Express 13 July 1974: 14.
15) Paul Gambaccini, “Wakeman’s Mythic Ice Capades,” Rolling Stone
17 July 1975: 78.
17) Alan Niestar, Rev. of Rick Wakeman’s Criminal Record, by Rick
Wakeman, Rolling Stone 26 January 1978: 54.
18) “Roundabout,” Keyboard World July 1988:23.
20) Robert L. Doershuk, “Rick Wakeman and Tony Kaye Face Off,”
Keyboard August 1991: 92.
21) Milano, “The Great Orchestrator,” 72.
22) Milano, “The Great Orchestrator,” 72.
23) Alexander Scott, “Wakeman in the Usher Hall,” Music Teacher
July 1984: 12.
24) Doershuk, “Face Off,” 96-97.
25) Robert L. Doershuk, “Rick Wakeman,” Keyboard September 1989: 72.
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