Rolling Stone, January 30, 1974
JOURNEY TO THE CENTER OF THE STAGE
By Cameron Crowe

[part FOUR of four]


"I was doing a lot of sessions at the time," Wakeman says, relishing the retelling of a favorite 
tale.  "I had just arrived home at three in the morning after having done a three-day stint 
with about six hours' sleep.  I fell into bed and it was one of those things where your head 
hits the pillow, you're out cold.  Then the phone rang.  I couldn't believe it.  I covered me 
earholes up and Roz picked up the receiver.  '...He's only just come in.  ...He hasn't been 
back for three days because he's been doing sessions. ...He's really very tired.  ...'  I was 
furious.  'Gimme that phone!  ...Who's that?'  And this voice sort of meekly says, 'Oh, hello.  
It's Chris ... Chris Squire from Yes.  How ... how are you?'  I said, 'You phoned up at three in 
the morning to ask how I am?  What the fuck do you want?'  He said, 'Well, we've just come 
back from an American tour and we're thinking of having a change in personnel.  I saw you 
doing some session when I was down at Advision Studios with our manager, Brian Lane.  
I wondered whether you would be interested in joining the band.'  Like a prick, I screamed, 
'No!!!!' and slammed the phone down.

"Next morning I couldn't remember what happened.  I asked my wife if someone called.  
She told me what happened.  So I raked through my record collection and pulled out 
Time and a Word.  I hadn't even played it yet.  Later I thought, 'Yeah, this is interesting.'  
Anyway, they phoned up again and asked if I'd like to join.  Actually, it was Brian who phoned 
up and said, 'Come along, we'll have a talk.'  I figured it couldn't do any harm; I was well 
fed up with the Strawbs at the time; so I trotted over to see Brian.  I felt like an asshole 
because it was so beautifully arranged.  Brian took me to a rehearsal, which later I found 
out was a prearranged audition for me.  The music was amazing - it really knocked me out.  
I never said 'Yes' though.  It was almost understood that I had joined Yes.  The next day we 
started recording Fragile."

Another American tour and their first gold single ("Roundabout") and album (Fragile) 
followed in quick succession.  Yes was still a relatively faceless entity, and when fans searched 
for a focal point, they settled on the whirling blond dervish surrounded by keyboards.  It 
was Wakeman who landed the magazine covers.  It was Wakeman who got the biggest 
crowd response.  Wakeman ... the new kid.

"We were never really very close socially, so it's difficult to say if they felt any animosity 
toward me for getting on the magazine covers and stuff.  When we spoke, it dealt almost 
strictly with music.  In fact, we've spoken more since I left the band than we did when I 
was with them.  To hazard a guess, I would say that Yes is fairly happy right now.  Not 
really happy per se - even though they've always played positive music, they've never 
been a happy band.  Yes is a very serious group.  They lived off their dramas.  The 
backstage dramas were unreal, absolutely unreal.  We would have full-scale rows over 
minute sound and technical details from the night before.  Somehow that tension 
worked to our advantage, though.  It put a certain urgency into the music."

A lot of the tension was between Wakeman and Jon Anderson.  Steve Howe says, 
"Rick and Jon's relationship was always very tense.  Rick was constantly upset by 
things Jon said to him.  Rick, being classically trained in music, felt Jon wasn't qualified 
to give him criticism.  I know it's a very easy thing to happen because if you don't 
know Jon then it's not hard to take him the wrong way.  And if you don't know Rick, 
it's easy to take him the wrong way too."

The fact that Brian Lane manages both Yes and Wakeman prolongs the 
relationship - could it turn the falling-out into a conflict?  "It's too early to tell," 
Rick says, uneasy with the question.  "Since I left, Yes has been in the studio.  
Brian's been working with me.  When I go back to England, he goes back out with Yes.  
I can't see any problems from my end.  I hope Yes doesn't kick up a stink, 'cause 
I'd hate to see him put in the position of having to choose between one or the other."

Lane, who was affectionately/suspiciously given the tour nickname "Deal-a-day Lane," 
was a fairly successful business accountant who stumbled into rock management when 
he heard the field was lucrative.  Yes was his first venture.  He has all the right ingredients:  
flawless business instincts, no humility and a dryly devastating wit.  He loves to tell about 
the time he spotted Groucho Marx in Los Angeles, "I'd like to get your autograph before 
you die."  Groucho, Lane says, went into fits of laughter, signed the autograph and said, 
"Better now than later."  Then there's the time in Cincinnati when Lane lay down in front 
of an airplane to keep Yes from missing their flight. ...

Lounging in a gaudy Cleveland hotel suite ("It looks like a honeymoon spread for two 
faggots, doesn't it?") before the show, Lane says that splitting his talents won't end 
up destroying him.  "It wasn't my idea for Rick Wakeman to join Yes," he says.  "He was 
asked to join the band by its existing members.  But from the moment he joined the 
band I had an obligation to do my best for him.  So they've had a musical difference.  
That's too small a thing to lose the relationship over.  I wouldn't desert Rick or any 
other Yes member.  Should Jon or Steve or Chris or Alan [the drummer, Alan White] 
go solo, I'd support them as well.

"It's been a difficult time for Yes.  They took a lot of slagging over Topographic Oceans.  
I think that was unjustified.  To my knowledge, nobody was ever forced at gunpoint to 
buy the record.  People laugh at Yes for their seriousness, but at least they don't have 
any drug problems.  That seriousness produces good music.  Listen, after Rick's next 
album he'll get the same thing.  'Rick Wakeman's pretentious,'  'Rick Wakeman's sold 
out,'  'Rick Wakeman's overdone it.'  As far as my managing both groups, it's my 
moral obligation.  Money isn't even a factor."

Wakeman, entering the room in time for the last statement, begins cackling wildly.  
"Okay, okay," Lane says.  "It's a factor, but the bottom line is that I happen to like 
where both Yes and Rick are at.  Maybe I'm the only one who does, but that's the 
truth of the matter."

Wakeman's replacement in Yes, Swiss keyboard player Patrick Moraz, has stated 
that he will maintain a solo career.  "But he won't assert himself in the way that 
Rick did," Lane says, popping a chocolate mint into his mouth.

"I can't see Jon letting him," Rick mutters.

"It's not a question of Jon not letting him."  Lane licks his fingers.  "It's a question of 
me not wanting to be associated with failure.  He won't have the public following to 
make a solo career worthwhile for a few more years.  Half the problem is that joining 
Yes is like joining a musical Mafia.  It's very much 'one for all and all for one.'  You're in?  
You're in.  You want out?  You get rubbed out.

"The situation that arose with Rick was a contractual thing initially.  A & M Records, 
which he was signed with through the Strawbs, said he could ply with Yes provided he 
cut solo albums.  At the time, nobody had the clairvoyance to see how big either one 
would become.  Basically, there's too many guys. ..."

"Like you," Wakeman prompts.

"Like me ..."

"Who are Jewish."

"Who are Jewish and ..."

"And have got little beards."

"Got little beards. ... Cut it out, Rick.  This is my fucking interview."  Lane chases 
Wakeman out of the room and sits down again.  "Now I forgot what I was going to 
say."

Finding the thread again:  "Patrick Moraz isn't a leader.  He's a follower.  He'll 
work out fine.  There'll be no problem with him wanting to break out of Yes's confines.

"Yeah, I think divorce is a good simile to use in describing the break between Rick and Yes.  
When everything dies down and they all run into each other in a restaurant one day, it 
will be very warm and friendly."

"Brian?"  Rick is listening in again.  "I seriously doubt if we'll ever meet in a restaurant."


Cleveland, by everyone's standards, stood out as a tour highlight.  The buzz was still 
strong on the next morning's flight to New York and a tour-closing sellout of Madison 
Square Garden.  Wakeman ran up and down the aisles - so seat-strapping turbulence 
this time - and bellowed, "I seem to have lost my book on how to shout quietly,"  coaxing 
laughter out of even the more staid orchestra members.

A few minutes later, struck with a rare sentimentalism, he decided to say a few words 
over the PA system.  "First, I want you all to know that I deeply appreciate all your support 
during the last month.  It's been quite an undertaking for all of us.  I hope we can all be 
together for the next tour.  Thank you all, very, very much."  Heartfelt applause.  
"Second, I'm sure everybody will be glad to hear that you've all been made part of 
my special loss-sharing program."

[the end]

Transcribed by yesman
December 25, 1995