Floating Love Balls

Went to see Yes men Jon Anderson and Rick Wakeman last night at the Palace Theatre in Manchester. Performing an acoustic set it was pretty intriguing and musically perfect. The two have a natural onstage banter - Jon the old hippy with his tales of magical gardens and floating balls of love energy, and Rick constantly ready with a piss-taking quip when Anderson gets too cosmic. Though all in good spirit, you do wonder how well Anderson (or "Napoleon" as the rest of Yes used to call him due to his notorious domineering presence in the 70s) takes all the ribbing.

The audience was probably the most peculiar I've ever witnessed. The last time I saw Rick Wakeman was at a fleapit called the Tameside Hippodrome a few years back. That night, I'd scored decent seats but had to move two songs in because of the eye-watering stench of piss eminating from the elderly woman sat in front of me. This is true but for some reason nobody ever believes me. I swear there was a a gradually expanding pool of liquid on the floor. Anyway, I digress. Last night, there was a noticable lack of grannies- who became Wakeman groupies for a time when he first appeared in Countdown's "Dictionary Corner" - but it seemed to be comprised of old Yes fans like myself reliving their youth, spherical blokes who spend far too much time eating chips and collecting comics, and their poor wives who'd clearly been dragged there by their husbands. Oh, and if you were sat next to me - row D seat 25 - thanks for humming, sighing, burping and farting throughout the entire set. Scruff.