September 8, 1977: RICK WAKEMAN REJOINS YES Yes Is Going for the Big One
Wakeman Rejoins Former Partners for Mammoth US Tour by Jim Farber
After exploring obscure topographic oceans and relaying messages of dour cosmic urgency over the last few albums, Yes have finally come back to earth with a new LP, Going for the One (Atlantic), that harks back to the raunchier moments of Fragile and The Yes Album. For seven months the boys worked on this disk, up there at Mountain Studios in snow-capped Montreux, Switzerland, trying to get the sound just right, for not only is this Yes's first recorded utterance in over two and a half years, but also the band's premier reunion with wayward keyboardist Rick Wakeman. To show off the fruits of their seclusion, Yes embarks this month on a full-scale, two-plus month US tour. The arrival of Rick Wakeman's outer space creatures will have to wait - or take second billing to this terra-firma band of musical spacemen. "I think the new album will bring back the fans we lost on the last few albums," says Rick Wakeman optimistically. The whole thing is easier to relate to."
"The album is a kind of celebration," affirms vocalist Jon Anderson. "Over the last two or three years we've been experimenting a lot and we're happy to have been given that chance. Any musician should be given the chance to extend his horizons and luckily we've been successful enough to do so. But generally we think of this as a more eventful album. We've come back to a happier medium. It's something we felt we wanted to do at this time. If we wanted another ïTales' concept we would have gone in that direction, but we needed to relax for a while - a little more laughing and jive." Jive?!!? From a band of stone-faced artists like Yes? This band certainly has changed. One can only wonder then, if the tirade of criticism heaped on the band for their alleged pretentiousness over the last few years has had any influence on this recent reversal of character. "I don't think we reacted to the criticism mainly because, as pieces of music on stage, these older songs were very exciting to perform," says Anderson defensively. "'The Gates Of Delirium' did not work so well on record, but I think live it was a very exciting thing for people to see. The problem was, for the FM stations it became more and more difficult to play our music. So all we've had to rely upon is Yes's charisma as a band. Luckily, the fans who come to see us don't just come to see a band that's doing well. They have remained loyal to us." As Wakeman implies, it's not only the music that's more accessible but also Jon Anderson's spacey lyrics. "Maybe my logic is getting a little clearer," Anderson admits. "At times I will still write fantasy because the sound of the words can be more important than the meaning, but I'm always trying to conjure up pictures and the ones on the new album I believe are clearer. I haven't changed my style, I'm just developing." Anderson views the lyrics to each song on the album as individual, offering no cohesive concept for the whole. One of the album's most straight forward lyrical and musical tracks is the title song, "Going For The One," reminiscent of such early Yes rockers as "Roundabout" and "Yours Is No Disgrace." Dominated by Steve Howe's slide guitar, the song almost seems to have more in common with Lynyrd Skynyrd than recent Yes, Joyfully forcing Anderson into his most earthly and emotional vocals in years. It's only Chris Squire's intruding bass and Alan White's complex drum patterns that give the song the inimitable Yes touch. "I wrote that song two or three years ago," Anderson explains. "It's about sports. The catch line is ïThe truth of sport plays rings around you/Going for the one.' Part of the song is about horse racing and there's a little bit on a film I saw about going down the Grand Canyon River on one of those rubber dinghies and there's also a bit in there about the cosmic mind, which is something I think a lot of people have been getting into lately." As usual, the album, features some literary influences, particularly on"Awaken," the fifteen minute closing number. "Awaken" seems to have the most in common with Yes's more serious pieces, highlighted by a Steve Howe guitar solo as frenzied as Robert Fripp's most intense work with King Crimson. "While I was in Switzerland I had a chance to read a book called The Singer, Anderson explains. "It's about this ïStar Song' which is an ageless hymn that's sung every now and again and that inspired this song. It's also influenced by a book I read recently about the life of Rembrandt-that affected me quite significantly. I feel the song ends the whole ïTopographic' relation of ideas." Another of the more "heady" songs on the album is "Turn Of The Century," an eight minute slow build-up number with Yes's trademark wash of layered synthesizers. Anderson feels this song is the most experimental on the album and accordingly, he admits it may no appeal to too many people. "It was originally a short song that we developed. As we began to rehearse it, I started thinking, ïlet's try to musically tell the story without me singing it,' and then when I do sing it, it'll sound even better.'"
Of the more direct songs, "Wonderous Stories" has the loveliest melody, while "Parallels" offers an almost heavy-metal kind of feel. "Chris Squire wrote that song," Rick Wakeman explains. "When we were putting together the track I went down to a church in Le Vay, which is a village right near where I live, and they have a beautiful church organ there, so I suggested to the rest of the band that we link up lines from the church to the studio. So they sat in the studio and played and I sat in the church and played, and we put it down at the same time. It was absolute magic."
"Parallels" and the other four cuts on the album feature the same crisp production sound Yes is famous for, even though their old engineer, Eddie Offord was replaced on this album by John Timperley, the same man who turned the dials for ELP's latest opus, Works, Volume 1.
Likewise, for their massive U.S. tour this Summer, there are many musical changes as well for the band. "The show is much less extravagant," Anderson promises. "We're calming the staging down and we focus on the band more. Also we don't want to spend three hours on stage, so we're cutting out the Topographic stuff concentrating on a two hour set with the new album and earlier favorites."
Throughout this summer stint, though, music won't be the band's only concern. Rick Wakeman, in particular, plans to spend much of his extra time tracking down space travelers. "I'm convinced this summer there will be landings on Earth of beings from other planets," says Wakeman with intense seriousness. "Over the last few years I've become obsessed with this. I know there have been landings already. I can't prove it but i can't disprove it either. I have hundreds of books, charts and classified information at home and if my calculations are correct, there will have to be general announcements about space men coming this summer. People will have to be warned. Otherwise it could turn out like another War of the Worlds situation."
Though he won't go quite as far as Rick, Anderson also sees some validity in these Erich von Daniken-influenced cosmic travelers, though he maintains a more "Hippy utopian" sort of view. "I do believe that what you don't see you don't know and there are things going on that we have no idea about. Things are moving in the general direction of getting ready for something heavy. It is the Age Of Aquarius. Things are generally getting better even if the don't seem to be. but Rick is the expert on these things. He sits up on top of the mountains here and just waits. He's certainly trying to track down somebody."
Still, even if Wakeman's cosmic search goes unfulfilled, the summer tour should yield a life album-one disk from this jaunt plus a second from last Summer's tour, making a double set for possible Christmas release. Also, the band will begin work on another album in December that should be out in early 1978.
"This next year is going to be awfully busy," Anderson sighs. "We generally take things more relaxed now, though. I think we'll be making lighter albums for a few years to come. we've spent our time being a bit serious and now it's time to loosen up. We haven't really make any drastic changes. I just feel we're all much happier now."
CIRCUS Magazine, 27 October 1977 GOING, GOING, GONE!
Yes Tour Suprises Diehard Fans - Stage Show Finest Ever by Jim Farber
Before the latest 'Going For The One' album and tour were unleashed onto the unsuspecting public, a whole lot of critics and even some fans were praying YES would own up to their dinosaur musical style of Cecil B. DeMille bombast and quietly hurl themselves into the nearest tar pit. Many fans felt Yes had become lost in space on 'Relayer' and even you guys who hung on during the last three years probably did so more in the spirit of hopeful loyalty than true enthusiasm. But this latest issuance from the band has once again established YES as a viable entity - one still relevant in an age where it's more de rigeur to stab your face with safety pins or succumb to the heaving metal drone of Kiss and Rush than to fold into Yes' Cosmik harmonium. Whereas fellow monoliths, ELP, have had both critical and financial problems with their latest Con Ed-hoarding album and tour, Yes have been incredibly successful by presenting a more accessible show than ever before, featuring an onstage attitude that's loose and at times almost (gasp!) funky.
As Jon Anderson revealed to Circus Magazine just before the tour began, the stage is a simpler one, without the Roger Dean designed giant space globs of the last stint, featuring instead a dramatically lighted cubist design, highlighted by 3-D stretched fabric backdrops, similar to ones often used by such dance troupes as Alvin Ailey's company. The band's new sound system has also helped, offering a surprisingly clear delivery considering the mangling acoustics of the overgrown halls the band has been playing in. Most importantly, though, for YES's new earthly success is their more spontaneous stage manner, aided by Chris Squire's enrollment in the Jack Bruce school of intruding bassists, making for some fierce push and shove sessions with Alan White's drums.
As Anderson promised, the band are not performing anything from 'Relayer' or 'Topographic', in reverence to Rick Wakeman's wishes, concentrating on the highly successful new LP plus old faves all the way from "Yours Is No Disgrace" through "Close To The Edge." Wakeman's role has been reduced a bit for this tour but, as he explains, the band wanted to avoid the solo showcases this time around in order to give a shorter, more unified concert.
"We didn't want to have one guy have a blow while the rest of the guys go off to take a piss," says Wakeman demurely. Still, with this format all egos are in check and no one has to suffer through a "beat-yer-brains- out" drum solo just to satisfy the democratic whims of the band.
Anderson's munchkin vocals remain a standout, ever emphasizing his cosmik overload lyrics - chock full of phrases like "total mass retain" - which I still think sounds like something from an Evelyn Woods Reading Course. As for his stage presence, Jon is still the one canned guru that we've all come to know and flinch at, but with the fine sound system, one can see that the emotion in his voice is actually what establishes Yes as one of the few technocrat bands with heart. The wave of the future may be punk instead of Yes' polyrhythms, but you can be sure that with this type of trend-transcending emotion, Yes will remain among the top performing bands for years to come.
YES: Credibility Regained (Or: Rich Superstars Make Good Album sensation!)
by Phil Sutcliffe Sounds 16 July 1977
GOVERNMENT HEALTH WARNING: this feature does not contain any references to "punk’ or ‘new wave"
It was a day to take in through your skin. I laid down on the lawn and soaked in the sun, a green English sun made for setting the sap rising rather than scorching the world dry like it did last year. The steamy smell of the grass mingled with the scent of a dozen different kind of roses and the rustling of the trees mingled with the sound of an acoustic guitar accompanying a very powerful voice being launched without inhibition into the breeze. Mr. Chris Squire at home.
On tour he comes across as a shy man who lets his height make all the impressions while he gives away nothing of his personality, almost hides behind his stature. But here he was dealing with the invasion of reporters and photographers on his own territory, and when we ask him to do some dumb poses with a guitar, sitting under a tree, he's so relaxed he bursts into song — and very nice it was too, though I forgot to ask him what it was.
All part of the mixed feelings you get from visiting such a home. Coming up the driveway it's the sheer acreage and the mansion-size dimensions of the place that impress you. Lawns, shrubberies, woods stretching away, the antique-looking timbered brick building. If you're ideals are Socialist like mine, the scene sits like a heavy and indigestible question mark in the pit of your stomach the whole time you're here.
On the other hand, it is Chris's home and being there for a few hours there's no way you can react to it only as a symbol of something that's not ideologically okay. It's no rock Sun King's Versailles or Citizen Kane's Xanadu, monumental museums to lives that went sterile and became just spectacular shows of possessions and wealth.
The only time I felt a hint of that was in walking in from the garden through what might mundanely be termed the dining-room. It's more like a baronial hall: fifty feet high I'd guess to the point of the roof, adorned coolly with Chinese tapestries, white paint and woodwork, a grand piano, lid open and elegantly draped, at one end and a long table flanked by high-backed chairs. Not really the sort of place you'd choose to eat a little snack.
But that was the only time I got the feeling of being a living part of a set piece. The garden gives a pleasing sensation of nature always being one jump ahead of those who are, rather desultorily, trying to arrange it to their taste.
The lawn had been mown but maybe not for a week and certainly not with any thought of favourable comparison with Lord's or your neighbourhood bowling green. Shrubberies were a bit overgrown, the odd bramble reached out to snag your ankles and one of those tall conifers that's supposed to grow so straight and neat had developed such a kink in the middle it looked like a deliberate joke against gardeners the way the Leaning Tower of Pisa is a joke against architects.
And the house itself was alive with Chris's two daughters, housekeeper, and wife, Nikki, magnificently pregnant to the point where she's considering horse-riding or a run round the grounds to bring on the happy event.
We did the interview in one of the children's rooms, Chris surprising me again by being just as at ease talking as he had been posing with the redundant Yes stage monster he keeps in the garden. We rabbited a bit about the plans American tobacco companies were making for the legalisation of pot — buying up tracts of Mexico to grow the stuff and researching the most marketable brand names, Freedom comes, freedom goes.
Then discussion of the new album hove into view and I told him, since it was both nice and true, that when my girifriend, a Yesignoramus, had heard it for the first time at about two that morning she had exclaimed, "That's lovely." Unsolicited testimonial, but Mr. Squire affected to be suspicious of female opinion: "It's Jon. They all say 'He's got such an angelic voice'."
Maybe, but the fact is that Going For The One is very much a leap back towards music which anybody can enjoy at a chance hearing, the sort of Yessounds which peaked with Fragile, ratherthanthe brow-creasing meisterwerks, sometimes more like monsterworks, which followed (particularly Topographic Oceans, despite the beauty of 'Nous Sommes Du Soleil' and the on-stage excitement of 'Ritual').
And it's just as well. I had been facing this whole assignment, the album review and the feature, with some dread because I simply could not see how they could retrieve the situation they had got themselves into. Everything pointed towards the band having ceased to be a creative unit.
Nearly three years without an album. Everyone producing solo projects in the meanwhile, their egos having free rein at last. How could they return to the restrictions and the discipline of considering the ideas and wishes of four other guys?
On tour last year in the States the signs weren't hopeful as I saw it. Not that they were at each other's throats — but their plans to incorporate music from the solos into the band's act had fallen down almost completely, apart from a harp solo by Jon Anderson which proved to be inaudible in the football stadiums and baseball parks they were playing.
So no new music. The old ground, the old routine. Well-played mind you, the Yes reputation well maintained, and yet if they couldn't co-operate on playing one another's solo music how were they ever going to write band music again? All the pointers were to a ponderous but insubstantial farrago and goodbye. Yes. I thought. And it was horrible because you hate to see a band you have loved nose-diving into the mire, don't you?
Then Going For The One arrives, I slap it on the turntable and out pours this totally exhilarating rock song. It was like watching on TV when your favourite team wins the Cup. All alone in your room you act exactly like one of the fans who's on the spot. "Yeah! They've done it! They've done it!" I was shouting through the max. volume, jumping about and wanting to clap someone on the back as you do in vicarious mutual congratulations for someone else's achievements.
Ah yes, Chris still waiting there while I burble on. Well then, how did you do it? "The important thing was that we kept on working as a band regularly throughout that period. We actually built up more solid relationships because we weren't pressuring ourselves into new 'product' for the business."
That's a thought for the cynics in itself. Presumably the best way to maximise profits over this period would have been to come out with the annual LP and parade their wares on the road in the now traditional fashion.
"When we all came back together it was with a wealth of ideas we had gained from the solo experiences and an inbuilt appreciation of what the other guys do. For 'Fish Out Of Water' I had to arrange all the music, make sure people were where they were supposed to be on time — pay everyone. There's more pressure. Partly it must be a relief to Rick to stop all that and just take care of playing keyboards again.
"If it was logistics that bothered Chris the word is that some musical lessons were learnt by other members of the band. Steve Howe is rumoured to have conceded that he is no great shakes as a lead singer and has returned to being 'just' a guitarist with renewed energy. Jon Anderson is probably less convinced than he was that he should have played more or less everything on Olias Of Sunhillow. And from individual awareness came a reassessment of the whole band. Not that they had a specific meeting. Chris said that when these happen they are completely chaotic describing ever decreasing circles until they reach the inevitable conclusion that there are five different opinions on the matter in hand (Brian Lane amiably uses this to get some executive action going with a "Well if I left it to you…").
But by some kind of band osmosis it seems that the Yes philosophy has changed: "You can deviate to the extent that you can put more into the concept and less into the playing. That's great for people who like concepts. But possibly the concept should be less important than the joy of playing. .
"I'm not going to criticise Topographic or Relayer. But those things have a slightly more intellectual standpoint than a soul, human one. We all feel that basic instinct must never be overlooked. That basic instinct of a band using each other to the best advantage and to the joy of all — so there's never anyone standing in the corner thinking, It's not my scene man' which is what happened to Rick on Topographic. Sudden big smile) Go on, ask me why he's back.
"God I spent a year explaining why Rick left and now I've got to spend another year explaining why he came back."
The phone rang. It was the Yes office to say that a DJ from Radio Metro back home on Tyneside had rung up out of the blue to say that Going For The One was the best album he's heard in his life. The good vibes were spreading. People were going to like this album. A thank you telegram was despatched in return.
I was thinking about a second figure "in the corner". Patrick Moraz. Three years with the band and maybe not too much to show for it. One less-than-satisfactory album. Publicity for his own solo project i. And he never quite fitted in. Could be the language barrier was at the root of it. He didn't get the jokes. You might argue that if Yes tell jokes the way they write lyrics you're not surprised.
Anyway Patrick was, it turned out, the one who couldn't take the test of artistic separation and reunion which the solo albums set them. I can imagine. I've sat with him while he played and gave a running commentary on i, gesticulating as if he were conducting an orchestra through the '1812'. Not a man who found it; emotionally possible to compromise as much as a five-piece band requires. No daggers drawn I'm assured, but that was that. "Where was I?" said Chris. "Yeah, Rick. He's come back because he senses a greater energy and creativity that will come out of him as a part of Yes. He will probably go on to do a much more stimulating solo album. In fact, I've already played on part of it in Montreux right after we finished the band album." Getting back in touch has been their objective in every aspect of the new album. Chris's own song, 'Parallels', seems to express it, though when I suggested to him that it was about the-band and their relationship with their listeners it was obvious that was a new thought to him. Never mind, I think it's relevant: "When you've tried most everything and nothing's taking you higher/When you've come to realise you've been playing with fire/Hear me when I say to you it's really down to your heart".
The rest of the lyrics are, as usual, written by Jon Anderson and hereby hangs a confession. While rating Fragile and Close To The Edge as two of the great albums of the 70s and enjoying a lot of their other work, I have never actually been able to suss out what our Jon was on about. A hint here, an evocative phrase there, but essentially it was all Greek to me. Either it was all nouns jammed together with no 'buts' and 'howevers' to point you in the right direction or nothing but conjunctions and prepositions with no substance to grip on to. Possibly it's my cerebral deficiencies — still there came a day when I decided to forget it and just listen to the lovely sounds. It was a large step for Phil Sutcliffe then when I found I could really understand a lot of Going For The One. And it's no accident.
Chris said: "Jon deliberately put his avant-garde style to the purpose of being a bit more intelligible. Obviously trying to overcome his critics". Which suggests there is such a thing as 'constructive criticism'. Because the basic metaphor of Going For The One is taken from Olympic sport, there is instant contact with the interests of Man-In-The-Street. Careering words about steeple-chasing and shooting rapids match the most brazen piece of rock excitement Yes have ever pitched themselves into. The images speak to you literally about a sportsman, and on other levels about any man totally committed ("all your senses of fear diminish") to the crucial effort of his life, whether that be sexual, intellectual or spiritual, and equally about the band going for the one to re-establish themselves as one of the great creative rock units.
The first two verses are very expressive, though I wouldn't claim a crystal clarity word-by-word for them. But then he breaks away into the most direct approach he's ever made to us: 'Now the verses I've sang/Don't add much weight to the story in my head/So I'm thinking I should go and write a punchline/But they're so hard to find/in my cosmic mind/So I think I'll take a look out of the window.
Anderson the little guy who flaps his arms with the naive enthusiasm of a young unfledged bird as he sings in colossal stadia to a hundred thousand people. Anderson vulnerable. Also Anderson stronger for another stage of self-awareness and therefore able to look out of the window' at the rest of us.
It bears fruit on the next track. When did you last hear a Yessong that you might describe loosely as "a story about a bloke"? Rian may be a touch rarefied in that he's a sculptor, an artist wrestling in his work with love, life and death. Yet the ideas grow out of flesh-and-blood events (the death of his lady) which is exactly what I feel has been missing from Yes's lyrics and in turn under-mining the physical vigour (yeah, cutting off the balls) of their music over the years.
I'm not saying they've leapt from the brink of the abyss to perfection. The last minute of Going For The One and the final track, 'Awaken', fall into the chanting style associated with the band's interest in religion. "That is where, in Chris Squire's words, I see the concept overruling the joy of playing. Endless repetitions of cryptic phrases may have a place in Yes, spiritually as a private mantra but surely they can't have a dynamic musical role in a rock album to be heard by millions of people all over the world e.g.: 'touching touchtime/ travel twilight/taken so high/taking your time/turn on to love/turnstile to one'.
The point which Anderson spelt out in Going For The One is not that he can be pretentious (I'm sure he's not pretending) but that he can fail to communicate, failing to build the bridge between his own "cosmic mind" and mine, yours.
Sigh. These boys certainly do put your brain through the mangle. Light relief. A phone call from manager Brian Lane in Los Angeles. These days he's got his hair cut short and he's wearing a T-shirt labelled 'PUNK MANAGER'. Hearing one end of the conversation it's all bizarre fragments like, "We can sell 200,000 in Alaska, can't we?" and "Hey, while you're there, Steve and Alan are the only two of us who are together at the moment so could you tell them to work out a set and let me know so that I can rehearse it." I presumed the band would actually get together to rehearse at some later stage.
The flow interrupted, I begun to stumble through an idea I have about the band returning to "natural" instruments. When they began nine years ago, "keyboards" consisted of Tony Kaye on Hammond and synthesisers were only a twinkle in Bob Moog's eye. Obviously Yes's develop ment has been heavily influenced by technological progress in a way that few musicians in any field in the past have had to cope with.
Although the inventions are still proceeding apace with the Polymoog being the latest essential toy for keyboard kings, a sense of perspective is now starting to permeate all the enthusiastic experimentation. Chris Squire's view is: "Synthesisers are something you have to come to terms with. Some people do become very good players but mainly they are the ones who just use one instrument — though Mike Oldfield got some very good results I think through messing around with them at his leisure over a long period. They are very complex instruments to get full value out of in a multi-keyboard kit."
Evidence from that line of thought in Going For The One is the lack of keyboard clutter. Wakeman doesn't throw in a Moog line just because the machine's there and it costs too much to leave idle like a factory production line. Repeatedly he chooses to solo on the "natural" acoustic piano and the old Hammond and, most spectacularly. the church pipe organ. He and the band have become capable again of leaving space, not clogging it all up with 'cosmic' textures from the mellotron, string synth and any other fancy ironmongery that might be lying around.
That church organ is a prime example of the way in which Yes have gone to great lengths to use sophisticated skills instead of being used by them. It features first on 'Parallels', a glorious stomping rock sound no relation to the mock-classical 'Anne Boleyn' track from The Six Wives Of Henry VIII (though I liked that too).
I supposed Rick had had tapes of the rest of the track played through his headphones to record it. Not so. "It was done live. Me, Alan and Steve were in the studio in Montreux and Rick was 10 miles down the road at the church in Vevey with a telephone link between us. Alan counted us in and we played it. Three takes it took.
"We did it that way for the event and the excitement of the moment. It's very important to avoid making sterile records." More echoes from the critical chorus of the last four of five years, more positive responses.
Even the cover style has been changed of course. Roger Dean was too busy to enter the bright urban flash of Hipgnosis. Chris is trying to learn to like its image of the naked man gazing up at the daunting towers of Century City, Los Angeles. But it's already had one risible result: Rolling Stone has banned it from their adverts for the album, dropping Yes neatly into the same controversial bracket as the Sex Pistols, the humour of which they appreciate.
"And it gets worse," said Chris. "Did you notice the bubbles?" Oh. It's picked up on the Dean motif of appearing to be both above ground and under water. "The trouble is it makes it look as though he's farted. I'm sure Rick will call it Going For The Bum."
He spread out the three-way gatefold and saw its potential as a record store window display and I think his opinion of Hipgnosis was rising by the minute.
Still he was getting fidgety so asked him THE question about all thi band's optimistic philosophising, their material wealth and how they rationalised that in relation to the people they entertain — bearing in mind that the really poor cannot be reached by an bigtime band because to reach them you have to buy records and concert tickets.
I put it. to Chris that 'Hold Out Your Hand', the key song from Out Of Water, was no great consolation to the unemployed, single parent families on social security, slum kids trapped by their surroundings.
He said: "There's so much choice of what you can do whether you are gifted or dumb, qualified or not. I mean, someone like me with no great academic ability can be successful. He realised how he was coming across: "It sounds like preaching. I know it isn't easy. Society doesn't care about the individual.
"He compared it to how he felt about ecological problems when they were the fashionable issue; "There was an expressing concern and travelling round the States in the band's, own private jet. Terrible dual standards".
What did he do? Got used to it. Who wouldn't have? (Tell me the Stranglers and the Clash if it's true five years). Our system is wrong rewarding anybody with great wealth but it does and rock bands have become one of the most extreme examples. Yes's prime motivation has always been the music and they can hardly be blamed for not also being Lenins or Castros. And simply giving money away within the confines of Tory society, while being an attractively romantic gesture, would hardly be more than a drop in the ocean.