A Rock ‘n’ Roll obsession comes full circle. And a life is changed.

For a few years, in high school, John and I were thick as thieves.

Although to look at us, you’d think we had little in common. I was on the football team and John was a hippie skateboarder. We were both smart enough to be bored with school and shared an irreverent sense of humor. But what really brought us together was Yes, the legendary British Prog Rock band.

We were also square pegs. Even though I lettered in football in sophomore year, I embraced little of the jock outlook. I had a few good friends on the football team, but mostly I was a fish out of water. I didn’t like football and barely cared whether we won or lost. I played because my family expected me to. I was never committed, psychologically, but I worked hard and was totally committed, physically. I excelled, even though I was a shrimp at 5’8” and 165 pounds.

What I really cared about was music. But the music I liked made me a square peg, too. Pretty much all I listened to was classical. Pipe organ greats E. Power Biggs and Virgil Fox dominated my record collection. Bach was my go-to, along with Beethoven – which I tried to master at the piano. I followed neither Led Zeppelin, Van Halen, Fleetwood Mac or any other supergroups of the 70s. I actually fell asleep at a Kansas concert, that’s how uninterested I was in popular music.

But Yes were different. Their work spoke to me just as the greats of classical did. Their music shares a similar complexity and technical excellence that got under my skin and stayed there.

To say my friend John and I were obsessed with Yes would be an understatement. When they came to Philly, we’d try to attend every date, usually at the old Spectrum, then home of the Sixers and Flyers. Beth, my future wife, was typically on one side of me, John on the other.

John was next level

We were nerd fans. But John made Beth and me look like amateurs. He wanted to experience Yes as more than just an observer. I’m pretty sure he wanted to be in the band. He was perpetually trying to get backstage. Most of his schemes didn’t work, but one day he struck pay dirt in a distracted security officer.

You have to picture John in the late 1970s. He was probably five feet two on his tallest day and barely over 100 pounds soaking wet. A tiny sprite of a guy with flashing eyes and shoulder-length hair. We were the same age and I was buying beer without getting carded. John looked like he was still in middle school. There was no way he was getting backstage.

Except he did.

It was the one show I missed, of course. Yes were big enough by then to play Veterans Stadium, former home of the Eagles and Phillies – dynamited in 2003 to make room for Philly’s fancy new single-purpose stadiums.

John was up to his usual tricks, trying to talk his way backstage. As the gatekeeper was in the process of shutting him down, somebody came along and demanded his attention. John pounced. The stack of shiny backstage passes was in reach. He simply pilfered a few and skedaddled before the infraction was discovered. And spent the rest of the night backstage. He even had brief conversations with some band members. If memory serves, one was quizzing bass legend Chris Squire as to when they might add Close to the Edge to the live show setlist.

(Ironic? Predestined? You decide.)

Needless to say, John was our hero for the entire rest of the school year. Today, he remains my hero for a way more significant reason.

A ship sails

As amazing as Yes were through the 1970s and into the 80s, I had stopped following them after the first few implosions. My Yes-head friends and I bought and liked the new albums, but things weren’t the same. The first earthquake struck in 1980, when Anderson and long-time keyboardist Rick Wakeman split from Yes over creative differences. As with many stadium-filling Rock bands, the egos that drive success can also lead to big trouble. Yes were attempting to record their 10th album and things were apparently so bad that even Anderson, the founder and very living voice of the band felt he had to walk.

But a record was promised and the tour to support it already booked. So the rest of the boys did what any businessmen would do – hire replacements. An almost unimaginable sequence of events left the pop duo The Buggles filling the void. (Remember Video Killed the Radio Star? Folks of a certain age have a soft spot for that largely forgettable opus, because it was the very first song played on when fledgling MTV went on the air in 1981. Some of MTV’s early “VeeJays” saluted in respect whenever the song played afterwards.)

Wakeman’s departure was big news, but at the time he was only one of at least three keyboardists that had been a part of Yes over the years, so we knew the band could survive without him. But no Anderson? That seemed out of the realm of possibility.

The Buggles experiment was interesting, but short lived. The album, Drama, is very good, actually. It doesn’t sound like Old Yes, obviously, but Yes know what they’re doing. They wouldn’t hire a couple of shmoes. Both frontman Trevor Horn and keyboardist Geoff Downes were the real deal, with serious musical talent. We bought it. We liked it. We bought tickets for the tour to support it.

Downes survived the ages. He is full time with Yes as I write this. Horn, more producer than performer, did fine with the new stuff that was written for his vocal range. But he struggled with Anderson’s Yes repertoire. We saw him try it, live, on several occasions and it was palpably unattainable. I felt bad for the guy. Big shoes to fill.

Needless to say, we were thrilled at the news that Anderson and most of Yes kissed and made up in time for another new album in 1983. But by then, Howe had started a new project with Downes and UK singer John Whetton, a supergroup called Asia. We bought and liked their albums, too. As in ’81 with Anderson and Wakeman’s departure, we couldn’t imagine Yes without Howe. After all, he’d shaped the band’s sound since he came on board way back in 1970.

In spite of Howe’s absence, we bought and liked the new lineup’s 90210, featuring Rabbit’s Trevor Rabin on guitar. Like Drama, it was good in its own way, but a big departure from the Yes we knew and loved. It’s the album that produced the band’s all-time record hit – the very poppy Owner of a Lonely Heart. We were happy about their success in finding a new audience. But things were different. Seeing Yes on that tour had us old-timers wading through a sea of preteen girls. That simply never happened before.

We loved the old Yes because were eggheads. We loved classical music. We were band geeks, choir geeks, skateboard geeks. Geeks in general. Only a select few Rock bands of that era delivered like Yes and promised a mind-blowing experience, especially through headphones and more especially if marijuana was in the mix.

Suffice to say, few of we diehards listened to Owner of a Lonely Heart a hundred times in a row, through headphones, like we did with the old stuff. It was good, but in a different, simpler way.

So I kind of lost interest. I still loved the band and respected and appreciated their work. But the Yes I grew up with was no more. I didn’t buy the new, new albums and I stopped going to see them live.

More importantly, I didn’t wallow in the loss of nostalgia and keep listening to the classic tracks. I’m not that guy. I don’t want to be young again. I don’t want to experience high school again. I don’t want a time machine. The ship had sailed and that was OK. After all, the only constant in life is change, right? I had moved on.

Or so I thought. Then 2025 happened.

The Fragile Tour announced

In mid-2025, the band calling itself Yes announced a new world tour, during which they would perform the entire 1971 album Fragile, start to finish. Fragile represented Yes at the top of their game, the album that produced their other monster hit, Roundabout, which still plays on every Classic Rock radio station, worldwide. The lineup, as quintessential Yes as you can get; founders Squire and Anderson, Howe on guitar, original drummer Bill Bruford and making his Yes debut, Wakeman on keys. It’s iconic.

The prospect of seeing the entire album performed live was very intriguing to me. For weeks, I debated whether I wanted to spend the $150 to participate. But there were a few problems that kept me from pulling the trigger. First and foremost, most of the Yes I knew and loved would be out of the picture. Founding bass player Squire died in 2015, drummer Alan White in 2022, who had been the Yes drummer since Bruford’s exit in 1972. Anderson left seemingly for good in 2008, when health issues made him unable to tour.

So the 2025 Fragile tour was basically guitar whiz Steve Howe and bunch of other guys. I’m sure they’re great. Positive. Steve Howe would only hire monster musicians. And in his defense, a few have been part of Yes over many years, like bass player Billy Sherwood and The Buggles’ keyboardist Geoff Downes.

But $150 to see Steve Howe and bunch of other guys? I don’t know. I know it would be great but I just couldn’t justify that kind of bread for what’s essentially a ghost band. If only Anderson had stuck around, I thought. Then, definitely. No disrespect to his successors, but his voice is so unique it’s just what sounds right in Yes, especially when they perform the old stuff. Like Fragile.

As I was enmeshed in this internal debate, my friend Tony called.

A life-changing event

“Hey. I have an extra ticket for the show on Monday,” Tony said, assuming I’d know what he meant by “the show.”

“What show?” I asked.

“Jon Anderson.”

“Jon Anderson? Where?” I asked.

“The Music Pier,” he said.

Wait, what? Jon Anderson is playing the Ocean City, N.J. Music Pier? I thought.

“Really?”

“Yeah. He’s with The Band Geeks. You wanna go?”

I thought maybe I did. What the heck. How bad could it be, it’s Jon Anderson?

“Who are The Band Geeks?”

“The band he’s been singing with a few years. Dude, wait ‘til you hear them. You don’t know these guys?” Tony asked.

I had no clue. Never heard of them. Didn’t know Jon Anderson was singing with them. Didn’t know they were coming to Ocean City. All new to me. Remember, I’d checked out of the Yes ecosystem decades earlier.

We made the arrangements and I showed up at the appointed time.

Before I get into how my mind was completely blown, know that I did zero research. I didn’t look up The Band Geeks. I watched no YouTube videos. Went in completely cold, with no inkling what I was getting into. Zero expectations. Jon Anderson and The Band Geeks. Playing what?

Turns out they play Yes. Like, mind-bogglingly well.

They opened with Close to the Edge. That was the opener.

Did I mention they opened with Close to the Edge?

Oh. My. God.

A little background

Close to the Edge is the 19-minute, four-movement title track from the 1972 album. It’s not just one of the most amazing things Yes ever produced, I’ll go as far as saying it’s one of the most amazing musical accomplishments, ever, in the history of music. And that’s not just my opinion – plenty of casual Yes fans with a deep understanding of the history of music think so, too. It was mind-blowing the first time I heard it, in the late 1970s. It went on to blow my mind, every time I have heard it since.

Like the finest work of Bach, Beethoven, Mozart and Tchaikowsky, it’s a piece that offers something new, every time you listen. So many layers, so much depth and complexity. It’s unlike anything else in Rock ‘n’ Roll, best I can tell. And produced nearly flawlessly by the incomparable Eddy Offord, who shaped much of Yes’ distinct sound and style in those heady days.

It was the last thing on God’s green Earth I expected to hear at the Ocean City Music Pier. Live, in my old home town. The legend himself, Jon Anderson at the microphone. I was so taken aback, I didn’t even recognize it. A song I had heard hundreds of times, through headphones. I know every bar, every beat and note. And yet my brain failed to register.

Though it seemed like an eternity, it took only a moment for the old noggin to catch up. I could scarcely believe my eyes and ears.

It was like running into a friend you loved and lost, maybe even one you thought long dead. Yet here he was, in the flesh, giving me a long and long-overdue hug. My response was pure emotion, decades of wonder, distilled into one pure drop. When I finally fully realized what I was experiencing, I cried. Actual tears falling out of my actual eyes.

That’s it. Stick a fork in me. If our humble little beachfront Music Pier were hit by a tidal wave, grinding the entire show to a halt, I would have gone home happy and profoundly changed. If I’d heard Close to the Edge performed live before, I don’t remember it. Which means one of two things. Either I never heard it performed live before, or the weed was really good the night I did hear it.

But if I’m honest, I’m pretty sure it’s the former. I learned early on that smoking weed at a Yes concert made for a fantastic experience, but rarely one that stuck in your memory. So I don’t think I’d ever heard it performed until this moment. And for good reason. It’s basically impossible to perform.

Close to the Edge was created when analog recording was state of the art – with magnetic tape, razor blades and Scotch tape. The recording was as much an art form as the music itself, which happened to be composed and performed by a group of virtuosi, as talented in music as Shakespeare was in writing. Not the kind of thing you casually dig into over a few beers with your garage band buddies.

But no tidal wave struck. Anderson and the Geeks went on to play a mix of old Yes, newer Yes and stuff from the album they recorded together. And they did it all nearly pitch-perfect. It was like listening to a tight, polished, insanely talented Yes tribute band, fronted by Jon Anderson. It was surreal.

The question on everyone’s mind

To those like me, who had no idea the universe had even produced this epic musical union, it begged a question; how did this happen?

First, The Band Geeks had to happen. In 2015, New York bass player Richie Castellano started a Podcast dedicated to Rock ‘n’ Roll which he titled “Band Geek.” That naturally morphed into studio performances, by a band comprised of a stable of Castellano co-conspirators called The Band Geeks. To challenge themselves and have some fun over the years, they covered a bunch of Rock songs – mostly as a tribute to acts they love, like Led Zeppelin, Michael Jackson, the Beatles, Queen – and Yes. And in covering Yes, they had to learn some of the most technically difficult songs in Rock. Like Close to the Edge. And Heart of the Sunrise.

They didn’t just learn them, they crushed them. They got away with it because they’re serious, professional musicians. Castellano is the bass player for Blue Öyster Cult. The rest are just as accomplished; guitarist Andy Graziano, drummer Andy Ascolese, keyboardist Chris Clark and the incomparable Ann Marie Nacchio on vocals – I daresay she is the best Rock singer you’ve never heard of. (I also love the fact that this band is dominated by Italians.)

That night, on the beach in Ocean City, Anderson gave the CliffsNotes version of the Tour’s genesis. “A friend of mine sent me a YouTube video,” he said.

So a friend of Jon Anderson saw The Band Geeks’ Heart of the Sunrise cover on YouTube. He sent it to Anderson. Anderson was so impressed, he called Castellano.

Can you imagine getting this call?

“Hi, it’s Jon Anderson.”

“Right. Who is it, really?”

“No, seriously, it’s me. I want to sing with you guys.”

I wasn’t on this call, obviously. But what I imagine happened next was a very long silence as those words sunk in. This is the co-founder of Yes, the guy who fronted the band for decades and filled football stadiums on tour. It would be like posting your side project band’s Beatles covers on YouTube and getting a call from Paul McCartney, asking if he could sit in.

And sit in, Anderson did. At 80, he can still do what he does, extremely well. His voice is naturally the way it is, he’s never had to strain or do any falsetto stuff to hit the high notes. And he’s among the hardest working singers in Rock. Yes was only one of dozens of projects he’s fronted over the decades. He never retired and it doesn’t look like he plans to. He only stops singing when he’s asleep or ill. The classic example of use it or lose it.

The crazy twist

So Castellano and friends post Yes covers on YouTube. A friend of Jon Anderson sends him their rendition of Heart of the Sunrise. Anderson calls Castellano. That leads to a tour in 2024. After, Anderson tells the band he’d had so much fun with them, why not cut an album? So they did. True, on Frontiers Records – which is pretty darn good, by the way.

And they went back on the road in 2025. They stopped in Ocean City, N.J. and my friend Tony invited me to come along. And I had what can only be described as a religious experience, hearing Jon Anderson and The Band Geeks’ masterful rendition of Close to the Edge and a ton of other mind-boggling stuff. (Thanks, Tony. One of the most memorable gifts I have ever received.)

But here’s the best part. The friend who sent Anderson The Band Geeks’ YouTube video? John, the hippie-skateboarder and fellow Yes nut I went to high school with.

Yeah, seriously, that John.

It’s not all that far-fetched. John’s obsession carried way past high school. Years after we graduated, when I heard he had actually scored a job working for Yes, I wasn’t the least bit surprised. And it made my heart sing (once I got over the initial tinge of jealousy.) I may have the facts out of whack – I haven’t seen or spoken to John since high school. But I think he worked some years for Yes doing Web development. When Jon Anderson left the band, John followed. He remains Anderson’s webmaster, today.

Jon and The Band Geeks blew my mind that night in Ocean City. It was an evening I won’t soon forget. Probably never. Mind-blowing, life-changing and universe affirming. A few days later, John blew my mind again, when I learned he was the guy who initiated Anderson fronting the band. I firmly believe it was meant to be. And I sure do appreciate it.

I don’t know how to get in touch with John. But if you do, please thank him for me.

=S

Links

Heart of the Sunrise cover by The Band Geeks, the song that started it all

My favorite Close to the Edge YouTube video, hosted by classical composer Doug Helvering

Close to the Edge the 1972 original

Roundabout from Fragile, 1971

Owner of a Lonely Heart 1983

True by Jon Anderson & The Band Geeks

Video Killed the Radio Star by The Buggles, 1979