#dylan howe

Tickets went on presale an early April morning. Mom and I had decided on getting tickets, which were priced not quite as much as I was expecting. But hey, I’m not complaining. I had my laptop all set up and loaded for the presale to ensure we would be quick enough to get good seats. But… We were never given a presale code.

Oh, no. We were in trouble. How could we get into the presale? I clearly remember searching online desperately in case I had missed a presale code announcement. I must’ve had almost thirty tabs open at the time, but no—nothing. I was almost in a blind panic by the time Mom suggested we just guess the code. We gave obvious answers like “music,” “Yes,” “festival” and the like, but we were fresh out of luck.

“Try ‘prog,’” Mom says.

“That’s too obvious, isn’t it?”

“Just try it.”

Well, there was no harm in trying at least. P-r-o-g, enter key.

The ticket sale interface booted up. We had managed to guess our way into the presale.

August rolls around in unexpected silence. Amidst the stress and worries of beginning a new semester bubbles the excitement of another show. Yestival is finally here.

The second school day of the semester promised a show with the lineup of a lifetime for someone like me after my classes finished. By the time I left campus that morning, I was filled with a slew of emotions that in just a handful of hours, I was going to be seeing three of my favorite acts in one night. It still hadn’t quite processed with me; I wasn’t ready yet.

Mom and I spent our time getting ready and looking nice, as well as a friend of mine and my twelve-year-old cousin—I introduced her to Yes, you’re welcome—and double checking to make sure we were prepared for the trip down to the venue. Considering traffic, it could be a long drive to Los Angeles.

But this was my big night. I had to make sure I had everything down to the dot. Camera, check. Portable charger, check. Water bottle, check. Ticket, check. Lipstick in case a refresh was needed, check. Vinyl copies of Fragile, Oops! Wrong Planet, and Emerson Lake & Palmer just in case… Check. And of course, two working sharpies—one black and one metallic silver—check.

With only a little sweat and a few tears, the four of us safely made our way down to the city, only with a few small scares, of course. LA drivers can be scary for us small city folk.

But we arrived right on time, and lucky that because of our assigned seating, else we would probably end up being pushed towards the back of the venue. People were being let in just about a half-hour after we arrived. Lines weren’t a problem for us tonight.

Once we were inside the building of the Microsoft Theater, everything seemed to set in for me. The day was here; this was actually happening. After a quick trip to the merchandise stand, I checked my camera for what must’ve been the tenth time just to make sure it was in proper working order, and to figure out exactly which camera setting was the best for where we were sitting towards the middle of orchestra center, and the lighting we were going to be in. Because of venue rules, I couldn’t take my actual professional camera with me, so I was stuck borrowing Dad’s point and shoot. But it’s gotten me some good concert pictures before, so this show might not be so different in that regard.

Within perhaps another half hour, the lights dimmed and my heart skipped a beat. Carl’s group was up first, his amazingly large and precise drum kit already having been set up the moment we walked in those doors. The large television screens beside the wings of the stage lit up, and…

“This is… Jeopardy!”

Wait, what? What was going on? Why would a clip of Jeopardy be on display during Yestival?

“Actor Michael of Lost, silver screen siren Veronica, and Hall of Fame Baltimore pitcher Jim.”

“Emerson Lake and Palmer.”

Then the Cheers theme.

“I’m an attorney. I work for the… Emerson Lake and Palmer law firm.”

The Simpsons.

“A disc?” Cut to Homer in his car. “Oooh, what a lucky man he was.”

ELP references in other pop culture. An interesting and fun way to introduce the band; I’d never seen anything quite like that at a show before.

And of course, the man of the hour walked out on stage with surprisingly young guitarist and bassist whose names escape me—it was Carl Palmer. He looked the same as I’d always seen him; getting up in his years, but visibly takes good care of himself. Carl had always been in good health ever since he was young, and it certainly showed during his performance.

Their set began with a lively performance of none other than one of Keith Emerson’s masterpieces, “Hoedown.” And let me tell you, Carl’s performance has not downgraded a single percentage—he still plays like a fiend at the age of sixty-seven, and his bandmates were great too. He even kept his shirt on through his entire portion of the show. I suppose he stopped doing that years ago.

They rocked each song, though they had a short set of only five or so songs. “Hoedown,” “Karn Evil 9 1st Impression Part 2,” “Lucky Man,” “Knife-Edge,” “Fanfare for the Common Man.” None of them were sung, except one.

Carl began to speak about how one of their most known numbers, “Lucky Man,” came to be. “I said to Greg, ‘when did you write this?’ And he said, ‘when I was about twelve-years-old.’ I said, ‘well, it’s pretty good!’ And we have a surprise for you as well.” The band began to play, but under the dimmed stage lighting, a fourth man walked out. It was Todd. Todd was singing “Lucky Man.” He put on a new twist that fit more of his vocal style than Greg’s, but he still did a lovely job. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was on the verge of tears throughout the entire number.

Carl and his band’s set soon came to an end, though I would’ve loved to hear more. But during the short intermission, a voice over the PA system announced that Carl would be out signing autographs in the lobby for those that have purchased merchandise. I can’t remember ever springing to my feet so fast.

My friend, my cousin, and I all quickly made our way back out to the lobby to wait for Carl to step out and meet us. Being so quick, we luckily beat the majority of the large group of people wanting to meet one of the geniuses behind Emerson Lake and Palmer. Now I was truly glad that I had brought my vinyl with me.

As I approached the table, I felt surprisingly calm in the presence of one of my favorite drummers of all time. He was still sweating from the show, fresh off stage, but he offered me a very warm and friendly smile.

“Hello! How are you?” he asked me as he quickly signed both my vinyl and my ticket—which I’m giving to my best friend long distance.

The meeting was quick since there was a line and people were being ushered along, so I couldn’t talk to him much. But at least I can say that I now have a signed copy of Emerson Lake & Palmer and a gift for a friend from the man himself. He was a sweetheart though we couldn’t stay long.

Now it was time for Todd’s set. I knew full well that most, if not all, of what Todd would be playing would be his newer material including songs from his recently released album, back in May. The wall lights dimmed again but the stage lights turned on. Kasim Sulton, Jesse Gress, Prairie Prince, and keyboardist whose name I also can’t remember walked the stage to their designated spots, followed by Todd’s backup dancers. After a moment, Todd himself joined the group.

Todd’s set was longer, but a good one. It was fresh and new, the majority of it I hadn’t previously heard. What was also a nice plus were the stage lights, which added to the effect of the music itself. His singing is so different now from what it started as, but he’s still a powerful and dynamic singer and musician in general. Famous or infamous for it, Todd is always changing. He and his band brought a real drive to the show with both his presence and his music, but it was certainly different from what Todd fans might be used to, but I don’t hold that against him. Even Kasim got his own bass solo, which I loved.

The band closed with three of his more popular gems both with Utopia and as himself, “One World,” “Hello It’s Me,” and “Just One Victory.” He put almost a new spin on the way he performed these three, but he kept the spirit of the originals at heart, and of course, it was fun to sing some songs I actually knew the lyrics to. For my first ever Todd Rundgren show, I wasn’t disappointed.

But now was time for Yes, the band we were all waiting for. And as a special treat, Dylan Howe, Steve Howe’s son would be joining along for the tour. I myself am a huge fan of percussion, so to know that I was going to be seeing a double drumming experience from my favorite band, it excited me to no end.

The band was introduced not by their usual “Firebird Suite” intro, which is a tradition among older Yes fans and those that have seen them more times than I, but with a different classical song that I didn’t previously know. The overhead screen above them glittered in red and white lights, the cover of their eponymous album released in 1969 outlined in blue. The band walked out and the audience surged with energy that didn’t previously seem quite there with Carl or Todd. The show was now alive.

Jon Davison with his usual smile, Billy Sherwood with a slight strut that almost reminded me of Chris, Steve Howe with his recent beard—and revered presence of course, Geoff Downes with his almost quiet but bold poise, Dylan Howe with fresh-faced excitement, and Alan White with a kind but perhaps just a bit tired expression. The six men took their places onstage, Dylan right beside his father, and the show began.

For their set list, they had picked a song from each of their first ten studio albums. For Yes, “Survival.” For Time and a Word, the song of the same name. For The Yes Album, “Yours is No Disgrace.” For Fragile, “South Side of the Sky.” For Close to the Edge, “And You and I.” For Tales from Topographic Oceans, “Leaves of Green” from “The Ancient.” For Relayer, “Soon,” the ending movement of the album’s epic “The Gates of Delirium.” For Going for the One, the song of the same name. For Tormato, “Don’t Kill the Whale.” And finally, for Drama, “Machine Messiah.” And as everyone loved, the encore was none other than “Roundabout.”

Personally, I’m actually pretty happy with the set list. Some of the songs they played were some of their lesser played songs (from what I know of the two Yes shows I’ve attended), which gave those songs a chance to shine. “Don’t Kill the Whale” even featured an extended intro which highlighted both Dylan and Alan on drums, which added to the song and gave it a fuller sound. It’s not even one of my favorites, but their performance made me warm up to it a bit more.

[Death mention in next paragraph]

Yes sounded much tighter as a band this time seeing them compared to my last time, which was the North American tour in 2015 with Toto. With Chris Squire’s recent passing at the time, Yes was left with less time to rework the band around to fit Billy Sherwood in as a full time member, change the set list around, and shape the general show to honor Chris’s life and his work, so I do not judge them as harshly for that performance. It caused a void within the band when he left us.

[Death mention ends here]

But the show as a whole did nothing but please me. Aside from the sound of the venue seeming a bit off, I was still more than satisfied with what I was given. Jon Davison’s vocals did justice to the originals taking into account that his voice has a different kind of sound—I don’t compare him to Jon Anderson because there could never quite be a “true” replacement for Jon Anderson. Billy’s form on bass shows his tutelage under Chris himself, and he even exudes a personality similar to Chris’s onstage. Like master, like apprentice. Steve’s style never diminishes for me, though he may play things just a little bit differently. Like Todd, Steve has his own changes; he never plays a song the exact same way twice. Geoff did justice to Yes songs originally featuring Rick Wakeman as always, including the song he himself was originally a part of, “Machine Messiah.” Dylan was a great addition to the band in adding some complexities to accompany Alan’s drumming to give it a nice extra layer. Alan only worries me a little; he still plays well, but he just looks a little tired. Maybe a little bit of a longer recovery for him after his back surgery is in order, but he still delivered that night.

But this isn’t where our story ends.

Four hours of prog music obviously left the four of us quite tired, but not tired enough for my friend and I to search around the back of the building for any lurking musicians, just in case we’d be lucky to run into someone. As we made our way back to the loading area, a small group of people stood together and spoke with one another. The two of us didn’t really think anything of it as we walked towards them to meet back up with Mom who had stayed behind. She had set us on a time limit since we had a ways to drive home, and our limit was coming short. Yet, one of the people within the group looked familiar from a distance. We got closer and—

It was Billy Sherwood.

In my mind, Billy was still something of a “new member” to me and I didn’t have a previous attachment to him, so for a very short moment, I almost kept on walking. But I still liked Billy, so when the group dispersed a bit, I stepped forward.

“Hi, nice to meet you!” I began, receiving a kind, happy smile and a ‘hi’ from Billy in return. “This is my second time seeing you with the band and you guys really brought the house down.”

“Thank you very much!” he said, still smiling.

Copy of Fragile and my metallic sharpie in hand, I continued on, “Alright, now, I know you weren’t on this album.”

“No, I wasn’t,” he teased a slight grin in his features. “I was about… Five?”

That made me laugh. Billy seemed quite easy to talk to. “Well, I’m gonna have you sign it anyways.”

He readily obliged, cheerful as can be, and asked me my name. “With a ‘K,’ right?” Making sure his writing was neat, he wrote out the words “Hello, Krista” with his signature and a smiley face next to it. And as far as I know, Billy doesn’t always write smiley faces either, so I held that little fact with pride.

He asked my friend for her name as well, to which I added that I had dragged her along to the show with me. She was not a prog fan originally, but I’m slowly introducing her to the music and hoping to turn her into one. Fingers crossed.

“It’s very different, huh?” said Billy. “Nothing like Jay-Z!”

Once she had her ticket signed, we almost went on our way, but I stopped when two women asked Billy if he had a pen to sign with. He didn’t.

“Oh, I have one! You can borrow mine!” I quickly offered, rifling in my bag for the black sharpie instead.

Billy’s smile showed again. “Krista has one!”

After having their merchandise signed and offering me their thanks for letting them borrow my sharpie, and my “have a good rest of your night” towards Billy. My friend and I quickly made our way back towards where Mom and my cousin were waiting, Billy sending us off with an “I like your dress!”

From a distance, I could see that Mom was waving, but she looked almost frantic. My brows furrowed and I almost felt a little worried, so we walked a little faster. But I noticed that as we walked closer, out of the corner of my eye, someone stood out in my vision. A man stood a head above the medium-sized group of people nearby, long limbed, with long black hair that was partially bleached platinum-silver, distinctive features, and a large pair of sunglasses. Todd Rundgren. It was the Todd Rundgren.

I hadn’t expected Todd to be out meeting fans that night, especially since he had a scheduled meet and greet you had to pay for earlier in the day. Usually with scheduled VIP meet and greets, it’s near impossible to meet any of the musicians for those who couldn’t afford the VIP package. Instead, I had been expecting to possibly run into Kasim Sulton instead; he’s known for always meeting his fans. But I never would have expected to run into Todd.

According to what Mom had told me later, he and his wife Michele were out walking the area by themselves when they were stopped by a thankfully smaller-sized group of fans, bless them. But Todd was his usually cordial and gracious self. As far as I’ve heard, he’s always kind to his fans.

As I waited for the people who had gotten there before me to finish taking pictures and their conversations with Todd, Michele approached me with a bubbling kindness, as is her personality.

“Would you like me to take your picture for you?” she offered, her tone brimming with happiness and excitement. “And what’s your name?”

The two of us made idle conversation as we waited for Todd, including her glancing over my Utopia copy of Oops! Wrong Planet, my favorite album of theirs and one of my favorite albums that Todd has been a part of. She turned the vinyl over to the back side, looking over the pictures of Todd, Kasim Sulton, Roger Powell, and Willie Wilcox. “He looks like our son!” she spoke happily, pointing to Todd’s picture.

But whenever she could, Michele tried to get his attention. “Todd, you need to take a picture with Krista!” It made me happy that she had my interests at heart and made sure that I got my picture in the end.

Eventually, the majority of the group left and it was my turn. Todd and I took our picture together as first order of business with Michele’s help. She took multiple pictures using my Mom’s phone, which I was glad of because it ensured that we got a good picture, and we did. Taking my picture with Todd was actually more personable than I expected it to be. Todd is surprisingly a bit of a shy man offstage, so I was under the impression that he wouldn’t be as outwardly friendly as he was, but I was happily proven wrong. He didn’t seem to mind the closeness, and taking our picture almost felt like a hug from the side.

But of course, I had to have Todd sign my vinyl as well, which he happily agreed to. But before we left, my friend having also gotten her picture and ticket signed by Todd, I had to get a picture of him with my cousin. I had turned her into a Yes fan, but I had yet to bring her into the world of Todd’s music. But he was here, so she might as well get proof of meeting him, right?

“Just one more picture,” I told him, gesturing to my cousin who was standing right next to him. However, Todd thought I was meaning myself, so he reached a hand out to me.

“Oh, no, not me. My cousin.”

He looks confused for a moment, glancing right past where I had pointed considering the height difference between him and my cousin. Yet, he soon glanced down and jumped a little when he noticed her with a bit of a laughing, “oh!” Picture taken. Same old song and dance.

“We’re introducing her to the world of progressive rock,” I had told him.

He showed the smallest glimpse of a smile before folding his hands together. “Be gentle with her,” he said to me with a slightly teasing tone to his voice. “There’s a lot of crazy stuff out there.”

“What did you say about not meeting Todd Rundgren?” my friend quipped to me.

I was happy, Mom was happy, my friend was happy, my cousin was happy—we were all happy, so that was our signal to head on home. But for me, I was on cloud nine. Someone that hadn’t been with us would have hated me during our drive home from how much I gushed about meeting Todd, Carl, and Billy. But I didn’t care. This was certainly going to be a night to remember. One that might even top the Yes featuring ARW, but I don’t like to list those types of things on scales. I don’t pick favorites.