Jon Anderson, live at B.B. King Blues Club, NYC

The hardest thing about writing anything about Yes, or about Jon Anderson, is that there is so much I could say, but it would never be enough. My words, no matter how deeply considered or how well composed, would never do justice to the overwhelming experience of listening to this music or being in the presence of these musical masterminds. I will never be able to do them, or him, justice. But still I feel compelled to write, and so I shall.

This past Saturday, I was blessed and overjoyed to be in the audience as Jon Anderson took the stage at B.B. King Blues Club in  New York City during this year’s solo tour. In the last few years he’s performed there several times, and I’ve been lucky enough to  see him there twice – once on a similar solo tour, and once with the immensely talented kids from the School of Rock. Both shows were wonderful and magical in their own way, but there was something special about this weekend’s performance.

For one, I went alone, which is something I’ve never done. The last two times he performed in the area, I had tickets, but ultimately was forced to miss the show due to unavoidable, unforeseen circumstances. So this time I bought tickets the day they went on sale nearly 6 months ago, and promised myself that, hell or high water, I would be there or I’d give up trying. And that determination stayed strong when my intended fellow attendee was unable to accompany me, and, lacking interest from any of my other friends and acquaintances, I was left with no option but to go alone or to miss him again. Being someone who is generally shy and a bit socially awkward, and knowing the strict general-admission, first come-first serve seating model employed by B.B.King’s for these shows, I was understandably nervous as I entered the venue. But after 5 years of waiting and two failed attempts, I wasn’t about to let a nervous stomach ache keep me from seeing and hearing my hero perform.

And in the end, I needn’t have worried. I was lucky enough to be seated at a table with half a dozen fellow Yes-geeks and Jon-devotees, and after some initial silent awkwardness, we soon introduced ourselves and launched into an impassioned discussion of our history with Jon and the band, our favorite albums and songs, and our experiences (nonexistent on my end – sadface) of meeting the band members themselves. I may have been the youngest person and newest Yesfan at the table, but it didn’t matter; there is a certain communal, almost family-like connection among fans of this band that transcends age, experience, and history. Our small group amongst the greater throng formed a quick bond, one united by mutual admiration, respect, and love for the man who would soon be taking the stage. By the end of the show, we were holding hands and hugging as if we were old, fast friends, and my memory of this show will be that much more precious because of the wonderful people I was able to share it with; people I’d only just met, but with whom I shared a deep, common bond that is rare outside of these events.

The nature of the seating arrangement at B.B. King’s necessitates early arrival in order to get a seat at all, never mind a good one. Even getting to the venue more than 90 minutes before showtime, I ended up in a corner table off of the main floor, though my seat had a surprisingly clear, direct view of the stage. The first time I went to see Jon there, I managed to score a front row seat, so being so far away was mildly disappointing.

Jon Anderson, B.B. King Blues Club, NYC, 4/30/11 (Photo by Rich Lynch, courtesy of kweevak.com)

But when 8pm rolled around and the house lights dimmed, the suboptimal view became less important; Jon arrived on stage and the crowd rose to their feet, and even at a distance I could feel how the energy in the room changed. I know this must sound like the ravings of someone obsessed, but there is just something about him that engenders a feeling of peace, joy, and deep, spiritual contentment. Being in the same room with him, something changes; something greater than just simple appreciation for the music. His gentle, joyful presence brings a light into even a darkened room.

I would be hard-pressed to recount every song that he sang, and in looking back at the show as a whole, it hardly seems to matter. I can tell you that he performed a pretty equal mix of Yes songs and solo material, giving his own unique spin to the band’s work with nothing but his voice and an acoustic guitar, a piano, or one of a number of exotic instruments which I doubt I could identify to give life and body to the music. His singing voice sounded wonderful – perhaps occasionally a bit more gravelly than it once was, but with the same angelic otherworldly quality that has always been uniquely his. He was also clearly in rare-form as he bantered with the crowd between songs, his good humor practically spilling over into the humorous anecdotes and inspirational stories behind the music.

There are moments that stand out, certainly: a beautiful song titled “Unbroken Spirit”, inspired by his brush with serious illness a few years ago that brought him perilously close to death, and so deeply emotional that it moved me to tears despite having never heard the song before; a sweetly romantic song titled “Marry Me Again” (I think) about a love lasting through multiple lifetimes, obviously sung to his wife and soulmate Jane; beautiful renditions of several songs from his first solo album and masterpiece Olias of Sunhillow (still praying that one day he’ll put together a tour and perform the whole album with a backing band); a surprisingly gorgeous, minimal arrangement of “I’ll Find My Way Home” (originally recorded with Vangelis); a creatively bouncy re-imagining of the classic Yes track “Time and a Word”; and a particularly moving rendition of “Soon”, the quietly beautiful climax of the Yes masterwork “Gates of Delirium” from the album Relayer.

Taken from my less-than-perfect seat with my Blackberry - should've brought a real camera.

And from the first song to the last, the audience sang along, clapped and swayed, stood and cheered and applauded. It was really quite remarkable – having seen Yes and Jon solo a combined total of 10 times since 2001, I have never experienced anything quite like the general camaraderie in evidence at this show. (Well, with one exception, but I’ll write about that another time.)

As always, Jon seemed to absorb and reflect all of this positive energy as the show progressed; he, more so than almost anyone else I’ve ever seen perform on stage, truly seems to thrive on audience feedback, and the whole loop of emotion becomes something healing and cathartic, almost religious in its intensity. For many of us, Jon occupies a plateau we strive for, a level of spiritual and emotional peace and enlightenment which I, at least, can only hope to achieve in my lifetime. And he expresses that enlightenment through his music, allowing us all a chance to experience and absorb it, and hopefully become something better, something more, as a result.

That the music is uniquely stirring and beautiful is, at times, almost an afterthought. But lets face it – if the music wasn’t so good, we wouldn’t all keep coming back.

There have been times in my life when I’ve lost touch with Yes and with Jon; when I’ve turned my sights elsewhere and, on occasion, found myself someplace dark and unforgiving. But as always, when enveloped in his presence and his music, I find myself today, three days later, in a happier and more peaceful place.

Despite his advanced age and occasionally troubling health, Jon Anderson shows no signs of stopping or even slowing down in his musical career. He may have split with the rest of Yes, yet he continues to work on solo and collaborative projects, continues to tour, and continues to release new material. And everytime he comes to town, he plays to a full house. It seems safe to say that Jon will be around for a long while yet, and that there will be more opportunities in the future to hear him sing and see him play. And as long as he keeps coming back, I intend to be there to soak up his music, bask in his spirit, and experience the warmth and fulfillment of being among kindred spirits who know just how wonderful and special he is.