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Review: The Rick Wakeman Yuletide Christmas Show, Bath Forum
Gig-goers are well used to the old gambit of dividing the audience into two to perform some kind of competitive task. But it’s safe to say that until now no one has attempted to divide a large crowd into twelve more-or-less equal parts. But that’s what Rick Wakeman – or, more accurately, his son Adam – does tonight for the ambitious audience participation version of The Twelve Dogs of Christmas. This originated as a piece performed by Rick as part of a fund-raiser for his local dog rescue charity, of which he is a patron. It proved so popular that it has now won a place in his legendary annual Christmas show. For the record, your correspondent is one of ‘four tails a-wagging’. Could have been worse – there are sniffing, scratching and howling mutts too.
They’ve been doing this show for nearly a month now, with additional performances scheduled to cope with demand, so it’s about as slick as it’s going to get, with lots of great music plus plenty of gags about Rick’s advancing years (he’s 75) and alleged miserliness.
is needed now More than ever
Last time Rick did a Christmas show at the Forum, it was just him, his grand piano/keyboards and a Christmas tree. The grand piano, keyboards and Christmas tree are still there, but now they’ve been augmented by Adam on additional keyboards/occasional guitar and vocalist Mollie (daughter of Steve) Marriott, both of whom were part of the English Rock Ensemble on Rick’s Journey to the Centre of the Earth tour back in February.
Bookended, after a fashion, by Prokofiev, the show is carefully calibrated to appeal to all sections of his audience, from those who know him only as Grumpy Old Rick off the telly to the prog rock crowd – who are by far the loudest and most appreciative contingent. There’s a pleasant surprise early in the set when the trio revisit the 1984 concept album for Hymn and Julia. Boasting lyrics by Tim Rice, this was originally conceived as another grand Wakeman production until the George Orwell estate objected, but he’s now planning to revive it.
Blue Christmas is reworked as a blues number to suit Mollie’s voice, permitting Rick to tell the story of how Yes played in Memphis on the night Elvis died (“There were 20,000 people crying”), while the 1977 Yes hit Wondrous Stories prompts the old yarn about how the song peaked at number seven, whereupon the band made an unlikely appearance on Top of the Pops. “It dropped straight out of the chart as soon as people saw what we looked like.”
A revival of The Nursery Rhyme Concerto sees Rick playing nursery rhymes in the style of great classical composers (and, er, Les Dawson) and the first set ends with a brace of Bowies: Space Oddity and Life on Mars. Impressively, Mollie makes no attempt at Bowie karaoke and sings both of them in her own style.
After a break for the benefit of Rick’s aging bladder, the second set opens with the biggest treat of the evening: a lengthy medley from – deep breath – The Myths and Legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Best known to non-proggers as the BBC’s election music (those royalties must be very welcome), the rousing main Arthur theme sets up Guinevere, The Last Battle and Merlin the Magician, which reminds us that those oft-mentioned passing years have caused no deterioration in Rick’s keyboard dexterity. Best of all, he repeats his promise to take the full King Arthur production on tour next October. Here’s hoping for a show here or at the Beacon.
The Six Wives of Henry VIII is represented by Catherine Howard, whom Rick describes as his “favourite wife”, to much mirth from his son (“Is that of all your wives?”). Adam gets a solo spot at the piano for a splendid Iron Man from his self-explanatory Jazz Sabbath project (just like his dad, his career has been intertwined with that of Black Sabbath). Rick and Adam also exchange gifts of their latest albums, which they presumably do every night as a sales-boosting gambit.
Rick introduces Morning Has Broken by telling a funny story about working with Cat Steven/Yusuf Islam. He’s probably the only person in the world who still refers to the former Cat as ‘Steve’.
Finally, it’s time for the “bullshit encore”, prior to which the trio pretend to leave the stage never to return. A suitably Christmassy Silent Night segues into one of Rick’s favourite pieces, Eleanor Rigby played in the style of Prokofiev, which is every bit as grand and gloriously overblown as you could wish for. A perfect end to the only Christmas show we really need.
All pix by Mike Evans
Read More: Metal & Prog Picks: December 2024
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