Yes Music & Philosophy: August 2013

Forty years ago, the song Roundabout, hit the radio airwaves like a hurricane. Most rock fans had never heard anything like it before. Guitarist Steve Howe’s melancholic guitar intro sounded like something Segovia might play, but the classical style prologue was just the beginning of music that seemed space-age and baroque all at the same time.

Roundabout, however, really blasted off with the introduction of Chris Squire’s phase-delayed bass, a mesmerizing riff that seemed to double back upon itself, like a snake eating its own tail. Squire played the bass, a traditional back-up instrument, as if it was a lead instrument. But this was hardly the only element that made the music in Roundabout stand out. Drummer Bill Bruford’s exotic style owed more to jazz than rock and his percussion was multi-layered by engineer extraordinaire Eddie Offord to hypnotic effect. And then there was the classically-trained Rick Wakeman contributing florid keyboard runs on a newfangled instrument known as the synthesizer. Topping everything off was vocalist Jon Anderson, an alto-tenor who often sounded more like a choirboy than a traditional rock singer. Anderson’s cryptic lyrics and otherworldly vocals imbued Roundabout with a mystic dimension. Roundabout was the first taste most listeners had of the British progressive rock group known as Yes.

Roundabout raised the bar in rock music. The musicians that composed Yes were regarded by fans and critics as virtuosos, the highest quality instrumentalists the rock genre had produced at the time. Roundabout was infused with classical elements, but the song really rocked. Yes it seemed, were pioneers of a new movement known as progressive rock. With albums like Fragile, Close to the Edge, and Tales from Topographic Oceans, Yes were among the earliest and most successful groups to use rock instruments to create works of an orchestral length and style.

The visionary head of Atlantic records, the late Amhet Ertegun, once described Yes as a group that painted pictures with sounds. This is a wonderfully paradoxical notion, but one that captures the mysterious ability of music to conjure up imagery and tap into the imagination. Classical composers have long harnessed the power of music to represent natural phenomenon and emotional states, but until Yes few rock groups had a rich enough instrumental palette to conjure up such vivid and complex soundscapes.

Yes music is pitched to the auditory and visual imagination, but it is also capable of tapping into the abstract and/or philosophical imagination. Schopenhauer once wrote that “Music is an unconscious exercise in metaphysics, in which the mind does not know it is philosophizing.” This is a rather astounding thought. Schopenhauer believed that music was the most authentic and immediate manifestation of the Will, the primal life-force that underlies our phenomenal reality. In other words, Schopenhauer believed that it is through music that the conscious subject can encounter the mysterious and fundamental energies that underlie all existence. No wonder Schopenhauer’s spiritual student, Nietzsche, claimed that life would be a mistake without music.

Roundabout is music that has the potential to plug listeners into a cosmic and philosophical state of mind. It is music rich and enigmatic enough to reward repeated listening and serious analysis. What exactly is a roundabout? Anderson claims the lyrics were inspired by a traffic roundabout he encountered on the way to the recording studio, but a literal interpretation of such an evocative and imagistic song need not steer us in such a pedestrian direction, if you’ll forgive the pun.

The novelist Umberto Eco once identified what he called the “poetic effect,” which refers to a quality in texts and works of art that allow them to continue “to generate different readings, without ever being completely consumed.” The lyrics and music of Roundabout exemplify the poetic effect.

In my view, there is a lot going on in the song to suggest that the term “roundabout” refers to a cosmic process symbolized by the mythical Uroboros, the snake that consumes its own tail. The Uroboros, of course, is one of the most potent images in the mythic imagination. Artwork and jewelry depicting the Uroboros date to earliest antiquity. Descriptions of the Uroboros appear in the Egyptian Book of the Dead, Plato’s philosophy, and in the Hindu Upanishads. The Uroboros was a frequently used motif in alchemy; the Swiss psychologist Carl Jung believed the Uroboros symbolically represented the psyche; and the chemist Kekule dreamt of a snake eating its own tail shortly before discovering that the structure of the benzene molecule resembled the Uroboros! In short, the Uroboros is one of the most fundamental and far-reaching image/ideas in the history of humankind.

Yes fans, of course, are familiar with the Uroboros motif. To begin with, artist Roger Dean’s famous Yes logo implicitly feeds into itself just as the mythical Uroboros does. You can see this most explicitly with Dean’s Yes logo on the inner booklet of their latest album, Fly From Here, where the Yes logo is depicted as a snake twisting back upon itself. But the motif actually crops up a lot in Yes’ work. For instance, as philosopher Bill Martin notes in his “Music of Yes: Structure and Vision in Progressive Rock,” Chris Squire’s phase-delayed bass in Roundabout seems to double back on itself, like a snake eating it own tail. Furthermore, Roundabout is a song that explicitly comes full circle: the ending recapitulates the same acoustic guitar motif that song began with.

What is the philosophical significance of the Uroboros motif? To begin with, The Uroboros motif seems to represent a central truth about the cosmos: namely, that life feeds off itself. The Uroboros devours itself, but in doing so it nourishes itself. The Uroboros slays itself, but it is reborn in the process. All mortal beings perish, but their lives feed the process of life. The wheel of life spins eternally. Yes actually explored this theme in an early song called Survival, but motif is developed with much greater poetic sophistication in Roundabout.

There is an even deeper way of looking at the Uroboros motif. Scientists tell us that our Universe began with the Big Bang. Prior to the Big Bang, time and space presumably did not yet exist. There was only nothingness. How can something (the universe) come out of nothingness? The ancient Greeks believed nothing could come out of nothing. The idea that the universe arose out of nothingness sounds like a paradox, if not a contradiction, but perhaps we can resolve this paradox by thinking in terms of no-thing-ness (i.e., no things). At the Big Bang, all that existed was what scientists have called a quantum singularity. Out of this uniform and entirely undifferentiated state (no-thing-ness) the entire cosmos was born.

Following the Big Bang, matter was formed. As the universe cooled, sub-atomic particles began to form molecules. Later, molecules arranged themselves into inorganic compounds. Still later, simple self-replicating organisms such as bacteria emerged. After this, single-celled organisms came onto the scene. Soon, multi-cellular organism evolved. Today, a highly complex multi-celled organism known as homo sapiens is able to trace the evolutionary path of a universe that has given birth to self-aware creatures capable of investigating their own evolutionary path and origins. In other words, the path from the Big Bang to consciousness investigating the Big Bang is very much like the snake that twists back to bite its own tail. As Anderson sings:

I’ll be the Roundabout

The words will make you out and out.

The Princeton physicist John Wheeler would have appreciated this point of view. Wheeler advocated something called the Anthropic Principle. In its strongest from, the Anthropic Principle holds that sentient creatures are necessary for the universe to fully exist. After all, as Wheeler puts it, “what good would the universe be if no one existed to observer it? Wheeler’s outlook is shaped by the strange implications of quantum mechanics; particularly the notion that subatomic “particles” can exist in an indefinite state, until they are observed. In other words, consciousness may be necessary to collapse the wave function of quantum level particles. That is, Wheeler believed that the relationship between the quantum realm and consciousness was, in his own words, like “a smoky dragon biting its tail.”

The Anthropic Principle is hard for many scientists to digest because it puts consciousness back at the center of creation. If the Anthropic Principle is correct, then the emergence of sentient creatures is not just some fluke in an entirely random process of evolution. Instead, the potential for sentience has been woven into the fabric of the universe all along; that is, sentience is something the universe aims at, even if the route it takes to get there is undetermined and even random.

The Uroboros and the Anthropic Principle would appear to imply a teleological view of nature. That is, the Universe aims at something; most plausibly self-understanding. That is, the Universe has evolved creatures capable of representing to cosmos to itself. As Schelling put it, “we are the eyes and ears of the universe.” If this view is correct, then consciousness is not a fluke, but an inextricable thread woven into the fabric of the universe. Anderson echoes this view; in his solo DVD, A Tour of the Universe, Anderson insists that the purpose of life is to seek out the source of our creation. This is a mystical outlook, no doubt, but it is a view that is in accord with many mystically inclined philosophers such as Pythagoras, Plato, and Schelling, to name a few.

The song Roundabout is a musical journey that travels full circle. In the end, Roundabout revisits and recapitulates the acoustic guitar motif the song began with. Musically, the song seems capture the same theme expressed in T.S. Eliot’s famous lines:

We shall not cease from our exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time

Roundabout is music that takes listeners on a journey. The song raised the bar in rock music by demonstrating that rock musicians could aspire to create serious music with an orchestral impact. In particular, Yes’ exceptional ability to paint pictures with sound and create a rich sonic landscape listeners can explore and ponder is on full display here. But Roundabout is not just a musical tour de force; it is also song that kindles the philosophical imagination. This is not to say that Yes deliberately set out to express philosophical ideas. Rather, as Schopenhauer noted, music can be an unconscious exercise in metaphysics. Roundabout is not jut symphonic rock, it metaphysics set to music.

Scott O’Reilly is a freelance writer. He is the author of Yes and Philosophy: The Spiritual and Philosophical Dimensions of Yes Music. To learn more about Yes and Philosophy and my other books you can visit my author page at: http://www.amazon.com/Scott-OReilly/e/B007C7POK0/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1 Contact:( neuroscott@aol.com)

Yes Music & Philosophy

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Roundabout: Metaphysics Set to Music