Uploaded July 2026 | Updated September 2026, 2 hours ago
It’s astonishing listening back to this under such a microscope. It’s like a 77-year old looking in the mirror and seeing his own image as a 22-year old staring back at him. So young, so arrogant, so vital! So much energy! No click-tracks or computers, of course, at Advision studio in London’s Soho in 1972. What you hit was what you got. These days, everything would have been stopped at about bar two and ‘corrected’. My memory is of all the Yes guys playing live in the studio with the intention of getting all parts right. Occasional mishaps, misreadings and mistakes could then be touched up later, along with the addition of vocal harmonies.
Close to the Edge (CTTE) was recorded in several sections. The frantic introduction, for example, was recorded as one piece (possibly a second or third take) up to 2.01, for where you can hear an audible click and gap before the join to the new section. At 6.19, the stereo position of the drums seems to change instantly, if marginally, so I suspect that was the occasion we’d had to stop work on the album, pack up, go play a show somewhere, return 48 hours later, set up the equipment and pick up where we left off. Others have noticed that the pitch of the snare drum drops as the track progresses!
By the time we recorded this, we would have tried various ideas and alternatives, before settling on this arrangement. The drummer had to know (or guess) the intended velocity and dynamics of the piece generally, and specifically of the weight of any instrumentation to be over-dubbed later. I’m going to perform differently if I know an orchestra is about to be stuck on top of me, or if a recorder is (and we did both in Yes).
Listening back, and comparing to recent recordings with my current group the Pete Roth Trio, I like the balance between the hi-hat, snare and cymbal overheads. I’m playing loudly, but Eddie Offord, our engineer, makes everything seem under control, not splashy. Eddie and I didn’t spend long on drum sounds. There was no input from a ‘producer’. By this time, and after our hit ‘Roundabout’, Atlantic Records had decided we knew what we were doing, or rather, they didn’t have anyone who knew better!
Nobody complained about the ringing metal snare drum, so I just got on with it.
Having grown up with jazz, I was comfortable enough with 6/8, 3/4 and all the triple-based metres, as opposed to the more common duple-based meters of 4/4 or 2/4. Much of CTTE has the former. I think the cymbal chokes (in several places, but at 10.03) date me, but they’re an under-used and effective device. With Yes, the drums had to be the first thing to be acceptable to all parties at the recording session. Editing drums was complex and time-consuming. There was resonance and cymbal over-hang all over the 2” 24-track recording tape; the process was discouraged. I just had to get it right, in sections, and live with whatever I’d produced.
We had rehearsed some sections of this before coming to the studio, but it was in bits and pieces. Like doing a jigsaw without a picture. There were endless discussions about how we could join possible groove [A] to probable song snippet [B] to the great bit [C] that yesterday didn’t seem to want to have anything to do with the construction of the song, but now, today, with fresh ears, absolutely had to be used. Our Leader-in-Chief here was keyboardist Rick Wakeman, who could join anything to anything such that you’d never notice.
I still have the 14″ x 5″ Ludwig alloy (a.k.a. ‘Ludalloy’) chrome-plated Supraphonic LM400 snare drum, also used on Yes' ‘Roundabout’. It’s a bit crusty now, but how much do you think it’s worth? (Don’t ask me, I’ve no idea, and I’m not selling!). Memories are unreliable, but photos of the sessions suggest 13″ x 9″ rack tom, two 16″ x 16″ floor toms and a 22″x 14″ bass drum. I was in-between American Ludwig drums and the British-made Hayman drums at the time, so I was mixing and matching a lot.
So much has changed in recording and performing over the 54 years since CTTE and my latest recording with the Pete Roth Trio ‘Group Chat’ (GC). Yet they both have in common the fearless thrill of performing live in a studio or on stage (in GC’s case). Both share the aroma of invention, of people thinking in the present, with a high level of interaction. You can’t download those things.
Now get outta here. The man in the mirror has work to do.
#drummer #drums #kingcrimson #yes #jazz #musicimprovisation #music #yes #drumming #billbrufordsearthworks #tamadrums #paistecymbals
It’s astonishing listening back to this under such a microscope. It’s like a 77-year old looking in the mirror and seeing his own image as a 22-year old staring back at him. So young, so arrogant, so vital! So much energy! No click-tracks or computers, of course, at Advision studio in London’s Soho in 1972. What you hit was what you got. These days, everything would have been stopped at about bar two and ‘corrected’. My memory is of all the Yes guys playing live in the studio with the intention of getting all parts right. Occasional mishaps, misreadings and mistakes could then be touched up later, along with the addition of vocal harmonies.
Close to the Edge (CTTE) was recorded in several sections. The frantic introduction, for example, was recorded as one piece (possibly a second or third take) up to 2.01, for where you can hear an audible click and gap before the join to the new section. At 6.19, the stereo position of the drums seems to change instantly, if marginally, so I suspect that was the occasion we’d had to stop work on the album, pack up, go play a show somewhere, return 48 hours later, set up the equipment and pick up where we left off. Others have noticed that the pitch of the snare drum drops as the track progresses!
By the time we recorded this, we would have tried various ideas and alternatives, before settling on this arrangement. The drummer had to know (or guess) the intended velocity and dynamics of the piece generally, and specifically of the weight of any instrumentation to be over-dubbed later. I’m going to perform differently if I know an orchestra is about to be stuck on top of me, or if a recorder is (and we did both in Yes).
Listening back, and comparing to recent recordings with my current group the Pete Roth Trio, I like the balance between the hi-hat, snare and cymbal overheads. I’m playing loudly, but Eddie Offord, our engineer, makes everything seem under control, not splashy. Eddie and I didn’t spend long on drum sounds. There was no input from a ‘producer’. By this time, and after our hit ‘Roundabout’, Atlantic Records had decided we knew what we were doing, or rather, they didn’t have anyone who knew better!
Nobody complained about the ringing metal snare drum, so I just got on with it.
Having grown up with jazz, I was comfortable enough with 6/8, 3/4 and all the triple-based metres, as opposed to the more common duple-based meters of 4/4 or 2/4. Much of CTTE has the former. I think the cymbal chokes (in several places, but at 10.03) date me, but they’re an under-used and effective device. With Yes, the drums had to be the first thing to be acceptable to all parties at the recording session. Editing drums was complex and time-consuming. There was resonance and cymbal over-hang all over the 2” 24-track recording tape; the process was discouraged. I just had to get it right, in sections, and live with whatever I’d produced.
We had rehearsed some sections of this before coming to the studio, but it was in bits and pieces. Like doing a jigsaw without a picture. There were endless discussions about how we could join possible groove [A] to probable song snippet [B] to the great bit [C] that yesterday didn’t seem to want to have anything to do with the construction of the song, but now, today, with fresh ears, absolutely had to be used. Our Leader-in-Chief here was keyboardist Rick Wakeman, who could join anything to anything such that you’d never notice.
I still have the 14″ x 5″ Ludwig alloy (a.k.a. ‘Ludalloy’) chrome-plated Supraphonic LM400 snare drum, also used on Yes' ‘Roundabout’. It’s a bit crusty now, but how much do you think it’s worth? (Don’t ask me, I’ve no idea, and I’m not selling!). Memories are unreliable, but photos of the sessions suggest 13″ x 9″ rack tom, two 16″ x 16″ floor toms and a 22″x 14″ bass drum. I was in-between American Ludwig drums and the British-made Hayman drums at the time, so I was mixing and matching a lot.
So much has changed in recording and performing over the 54 years since CTTE and my latest recording with the Pete Roth Trio ‘Group Chat’ (GC). Yet they both have in common the fearless thrill of performing live in a studio or on stage (in GC’s case). Both share the aroma of invention, of people thinking in the present, with a high level of interaction. You can’t download those things.
Now get outta here. The man in the mirror has work to do.
#drummer #drums #kingcrimson #yes #jazz #musicimprovisation #music #yes #drumming #billbrufordsearthworks #tamadrums #paistecymbals



![Bruford - Rock Goes To College (Full Show, March 7, 1979)
I was listening to a lot of Joe Morello with the Dave Brubeck Quartet when I was a young wannabe. There were the fabulous Time Out (1959) and Time Further Out (1961) albums, and the hit single Take Five, but also the slightly less known Jazz Goes to College (1954), a live performance of the Quartet’s US college tour. It seemed the perfect title to appropriate many years later for my band Bruford’s DVD from Oxford Polytechnic in the UK: Rock Goes to College.
Annette Peacock is one of those artists whose vocal approach polarises people. You either love her or hate her. Bowie loved her; Peacock allegedly turned down Bowies request that she appear on ‘Aladdin Sane’. But bear in mind where she’s coming from, namely a 1960s New York City background of blues, jazz, avant-garde electronic music, rap and free-form poetry. Check her out on her first album ‘I’m the One’, described by John Fordham of the Guardian as “seismically influential”.
Like all artists, in 1979 she was a work in progress – half-singing, half speaking her way to her own identity. Think Jack Kerouac’s ‘On the Road’, Gil Scott-Heron’s ‘The Revolution Will Not Be Televised’ and Allen Ginsberg’s ‘Howl’. This last one connects you to King Crimson’s ‘Beat’ album, and the track ‘The Howler’ (1982). Before Annette, female singers sang the given melody. After Annette, they could sing whatever the heck they wanted.
It may have seemed like a slick band, but this was our first live gig, and on national TV, too. Mistakes were bound to happen. On Adios A La Pasada [Goodbye to the Past], for example, in the general on-stage chaos, Daves keyboards have a short blackout, either electronic or mental, at 408; Annette inadvertently reverses lines two and three above at 414; and there is a small train wreck at 530 as the band approaches the very climax of the song. To err is human, to forgive is divine.
Jeff Berlin reminds me so much of a young Jaco Pastorius prowling around the stage with the brilliant Weather Report - the same exceptional command of the instrument, the same central position in the fabric of the music. Weather Report had spotted an interesting avenue for development - the (re)integration of world music influences within jazz - that catapulted Jaco to international fame and marginally eclipsed Jeffs fast rising star.
And what of the mercurial and brilliant Allan Holdsworth (R.I.P), about whom I’ve already said too much? He joins Jeff, Annette and Dave in breaking new ground. More than half of this band were doing things that were new – certainly – to British audiences, and probably others as well. My own role – one I consider it a privilege to have been given - was to provide the international platform on which these things might play out.
The drum kit at this show, by the way, like all my ever-changing drum kits, was emblematic of the times and indicative of my recent past history. As I’ve said elsewhere, I was brought up in the days before the heavy marketing of glossy drums, when a ‘kit’ was whatever you thought appropriate to do the job. Mine had had always sprouted unusual noise-making tendrils. Following (Jamie) Muir’s departure from King Crimson, I assigned myself his percussion function and grew two side racks and a rear rack of steel plates, ratchets, blocks, gongs, suspended triangles and a thunder-sheet. The left-hand rack and the thunder-sheet had fallen by the wayside by the time I arrived at this BBC show, but the remaining instruments were integral to the performance. It wasn’t a pretty kit, with its drums coming from at least three different manufacturers, but it looked like its owner meant business.
Making a successful or happy group has much to do with a balance of wants and needs. Sure, we all want it to be a huge success, but what do the individuals need to make them stick around? They all need the basics of course: a steady flow of reliable bookings, medium-quality hotels and clean sheets, and a leader who pays what he said he’d pay when he said he’d pay it. In this band we could manage that.
But we all also needed a musical challenge. I needed a co-writer in Dave Stewart; a young Jeff Berlin needed to bring his unusual talents to an international audience; Allan Holdsworth needed the sort of textural support for his playing that keyboardist Dave Stewart was a master at; and the band needed the stellar soloist, Allan Holdsworth. Hey presto! Everyone’s cool; everyone enjoys the ride while it lasts. Now, I know all this, but it was more luck than judgement that got us there in 1979. Bruford - Rock Goes To College (Full Show, March 7, 1979)](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/bZNJz0722W4/mqdefault.jpg)






