John Wetton of Asia Returns With A Prog-Rock Supergroup
When it comes to highs and lows, John Wetton is a wizard. Onstage with his Asia bandmates—Yes guitarist Steve Howe, drummer Carl Palmer of Emerson Lake & Palmer, and keyboardist Geoff Downes of Yes and the Buggles—Wetton wails in a tenor singing voice that ranks with any in rock history. At the same time, he issues bass guitar lines that complement his vocals with Baroque-like efficiency. As if that weren’t enough, he frequently underpins both parts with seismic support tones from his ever-present bass pedals. “Highs and lows” also describes Wetton’s amazing career, a journey that has taken him through a host of key British rock bands, with numerous trips up the charts and bitter breakups along the way. Even now, with Asia re-emerging via world tours and Phoenix, the group’s commercially and critically hailed first new CD in 25 years, Wetton must bear an albatross: a severe case of carpal tunnel syndrome in his right hand.
Born in Derby, England on June 12, 1949, John Kenneth Wetton was raised in a family of church musicians. At age six, he was recruited to help his older brother practice his church organ parts on piano at home. This meant playing the bass pedal parts on the lower keys, on pieces like Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, while his brother played the two manual parts. The daily routine gave him an understanding of the relationship between bass and melody. Not wanting to follow in his brother’s footsteps, he turned to guitar, inspired by the Beatles-led early-’60s pop-rock explosion. When he joined a local band that had a guitarist, he volunteered to sing and play bass, a niche that immediately suited him. Working his way from Rosetti and Framus basses to a ’61 Fender Precision, he gathered the influences of Paul McCartney, Brian Wilson, and James Jamerson.
In 1971 Wetton performed and recorded with Mogul Trash and then became a member of Family, gaining prominence in England. This led to an invitation from a re-formed King Crimson, resulting in a peak period for the cult prog-rock band, with albums like Starless and Bible Black and Red. Following that edition’s late–’74 breakup, Wetton toured and recorded with Roxy Music and Uriah Heep before reconnecting with his Crimson rhythm section-mate Bill Bruford to form U.K. in 1977. Three U.K. albums gave way to Wetton’s 1980 song-focused solo debut, setting the stage for his role fronting Asia, a period he calls an artistic highpoint. Established in 1981, just as the video era was launching, Asia parlayed its pop-meets-progressive sound into Top Ten hits like “Heat of the Moment,” “Only Time Will Tell,” and “Don’t Cry.”
A bout with the bottle led Wetton to be temporarily dismissed from Asia (replaced by Greg Lake). Although the other members quickly took him back, Asia wasn’t able to duplicate its initial success, and the group disbanded in 1985. Throughout the ’90s John released more live and studio solo CDs and took part in various collaborations. By 2000, he began re-teaming with Asia members—first with Carl Palmer in the group Qango, and then with Geoff Downes for the Wetton/Downes album Icon. Finally, in 2006 the original members convened for a successful reunion tour that stretched into 2007 and yielded the CD/DVD Fantasia: Live in Tokyo. Asia began work on Phoenix and embarked on another globe trot. The tour was interrupted in August 2007, when Wetton underwent triple bypass heart surgery. With its frontman fully recovered, the quartet resumed touring in 2008.
Let’s start with the formation of your bass concept.
I come from the church and composers like Bach, the greatest “bass player” who ever existed, whether you’re talking about following a melody line or creating a melody itself. But my musical life really began when the Beatles and Beach Boys arrived. They put things into color for me, whereas the roots-rock before them had all been in black and white; it was monotone to my ears, with very little melodic or harmonic movement. The non-root tones of Paul McCartney and Brian Wilson really appealed to me, because church music does that all the time—especially in hymns, where the bass typically moves all over the place the last time through the chorus, in a way that “only God would understand” [laughs]. Essentially, in those days, when they got tired of playing the same bass part they would write a different one just for fun. A good example is “All Things Bright and Beautiful”; the fifth time around the chorus, the bass goes mental.
All of that triggered my fascination with the placement of the bass line in the chord, and how it complements the melody. The way I’ve seemed to write most often is to have my bass part moving independently or contrapuntally to what I’m singing in the verses, and then have it move parallel in the choruses, harmonizing the mel-ody line. You can hear that on “Easy Money” with King Crimson, right through “Heat of the Moment” and “Don’t Cry” with Asia.
Would you say your bass voice came together in King Crimson?
Yes, my bass and my musical voices. While working in Mogul Trash and Family, I had seen bassists as disparate as Jack Bruce, Harvey Brooks, and Miroslav Vitous, and I continued trying to get my hands around James Jamerson’s Motown lines. So at 22, I was quite sure of myself, looking to play as many notes as possible [laughs]. That fit perfectly with the way Bill Bruford played drums. I would call our approach organized chaos, with an awful lot of energy. After we found our feet with Larks’ Tongues in Aspic, I was especially comfortable with my musical input on Starless and Bible Black and Red. In particular, “Starless,” from Red, was a highpoint for me. It’s a sonata form, with my ballad at the start, into the demonic tritone bass lick, which Bill wrote, then all hell breaks loose, and finally we’re back to the ballad.
What sort of tone were you going for in Crimson?
Being that I was sort of balancing lead and support roles, I went with a sound that was quite sharp and ringing. It came courtesy of my fingers, sometimes a pick, my ’61 P-Bass, Rotosound strings, a Hiwatt amp, and a cheap little Italian wah-wah/fuzz pedal. At the time, [Yes bassist] Chris Squire and I were really into the outrageous bass tone that Ace Kefford got with the Move; it was like the bottom strings on a piano. That’s what we were going after.
How were you constructing your parts?
We would have improvisational sections built into the set list, between the songs, and we’d have a signal, which could come from anyone, that would take us into the next piece. So people really didn’t know if we were improvising or playing organized arrangements—but you could do that in the ’70s! [Laughs.] For the improvisations, the only rule was that any member could take the lead at any point and the remaining members had to follow. But there’d be no key center or chord sequence to go by; it was wide open! I’d end up thinking three-dimensionally, trying to discern where the music was going. There was one improvisation called “Trio” [from Starless and Bible Black] that had a chord sequence I outlined on bass because Robert Fripp was playing Mellotron; roughly, it was C, G/B, Am, Am7/G, D/F#, F, and back to C. Overall, I would say the improvs worked seven times out of ten; the other three times we were the only ones who knew. Some nights it was purely telepathic, but it was never disastrous. Crimson was a great band to be in, but we knew it couldn’t last forever.
How did your bass role evolve for U.K.?
Well, coming out of King Crimson, I carried a lot of my busy bass style into Roxy Music, and they didn’t mind because they liked stretching out. By the time I finally got back together with Bill [Bruford] in U.K., with [guitarist] Allan Holdsworth and [keyboardist] Eddie Jobson, the equation had changed. I was now the frontman/vocalist, and the focus was on structured songs that left little room for improvisation. We were being marketed as a rock band, with videos and opening slots for groups like Van Halen. So bass-wise, I really had to be the anchor; that limited my freedom, but I was okay with it. On the other hand, the lack of improvisation drove Holdsworth up the wall. Still, I think we made a pretty darn good record [U.K.]. When Allan and Bill left and we became a trio with [drummer] Terry Bozzio, we moved even further in a vocal and song-oriented direction, and my bass playing became even more functional. The two albums the trio did, along with my 1980 solo debut, Caught in the Crossfire, was my transition toward Asia.
So Asia came at the right time?
It couldn’t have been better. I had melodies and lyrics coming out of my ears. My zest for music, which had taken 30 years to mature, had come to a head. Plus, I was surrounded by great musicians, the right label and producer, the start of MTV; everything was in place. The only thing that could stop me was the self-destruct button, which happened briefly after two albums, but I got back. What really made Asia a success is that we sacrificed individually to create a true band sound.
How do you feel about the reunion and Phoenix?
I’m very pleased; there’s a camaraderie and spirit among us that wasn’t present the first time around. In addition to songs from Phoenix, we’re playing our early hits and songs from each of our careers, like [Yes’s] “Roundabout,” [the Buggles’] “Video Killed the Radio Star,” and [Emerson Lake & Palmer’s] “Fanfare for the Common Man.” A lot of the music for Phoenix was written on tour, so it has all the band’s colors. We all feel reborn; I know I do after my heart surgery. Our new song “An Extraordinary Life” is about just that—appreciating where we are right now. We’re no longer just some ’80s nostalgia band; we’re a vital living and writing group. We had fun putting the album together; the only drag was my hand problems.
What’s the current status of that?
Still not great, I’m afraid. It has been almost two years since I was diagnosed with carpal tunnel syndrome. It’s a swelling of the casing around the nerves in my hand, causing them to be trapped. I had an operation a few months after diagnosis to relieve the pressure, but it hasn’t really helped. I need to have more surgery; I may have originally waited too long to treat it. My doctor said most cases like mine are among cellists because of the angle they hold their right hands at, to bow. For me, it started with a numb, pins-and-needles feeling, and now it can be painful and achy, quite unpleasant. I can’t even hold my phone, much less a pick. So we tape a thumb pick on my right thumb, and I can pretty much play only downstrokes. Fortunately, being a lefty who plays right-handed, I’m able to fret the notes with my strong hand. Ultimately, this injury causes the muscles in the hand to wither, so my recommendation, if you discover symptoms, is to seek medical advice immediately.
What lies ahead?
We’re going to continue touring with Asia and hopefully record again. As I look to the future, I can’t help but think about hitting the scene in the ’70s, with great bands like Yes, Genesis, and Pink Floyd all building from the Beatles. There was a consensus that music was in a constant state of growth, and we were all supposed to keep writing better songs and making better records. That seems to have disappeared right out the window these days. Rarely do you find a young rock band where the bassist thinks about playing anything but the root. We’re not progressing anymore, we’re plunking away on the tonic, so to speak. Music has basically oversimplified its way out of my heart. I’d like to have a hand in getting the ship righted.
Step On It
Like Geddy Lee and Chris Squire, John Wetton belongs to an elite group adept at singing and playing while stomping on bass pedals. He explains: “The first time I heard Moog Taurus pedals was at the Beacon Theater in New York, in the mid ’70s, when Bill Bruford was playing with Genesis. Mike Rutherford had them, and I thought, Bloody hell—I’ve got to get those! I’ve been using them ever since; the first time was with Uriah Heep in 1976. They sound okay in the studio, but live, in a big venue, they sound devastating. I have a Roland PK-5 [pedal MIDI controller] now, and I use it whenever I want the extra testicle. I’ll be onstage, halfway through a song. and I’ll think, This could use a bit of bottom, and I’ll step on it. It’s always in unison with the note I’m playing on bass. It can be a bit of a juggling act, because I’ve got to keep the mic in front of me, but technically it’s no different from singing and playing piano while stepping on the pedals. If you do it long enough, it becomes second nature. When King Crimson did ‘Easy Money’ [from Larks’ Tongues in Aspic], the verse bass line was in 4/4 and the vocal was in 3/4. Once I got that together, I never really struggled with odd meters or with singing while playing a completely independent bass part.”
Selected Discography
Solo albums Rock of Faith, Electric Pea; Arkangel, Pony Canyon; Battle Lines, Cromwell; Live Chasing the Dragon, Mesa; King’s Road, 1972-80, EG; Caught in the Crossfire, EG. With Asia Phoenix, EMI; Astra, Geffen; Alpha, Geffen; Asia, Geffen. With Wetton/Downes (both on Frontiers) Icon, Vol. 2: Rubicon II; Icon. With King Crimson Live in Mainz 1974, DGM; Night Watch, Victor; USA, Atlantic; Starless and Bible Black, EG; Red, EG; Larks’ Tongues in Aspic, EG. With U.K. Night After Night, EG; Danger Money, EG; U.K., Platforma. With Roxy Music Viva!, Virgin. With Uriah Heep Return to Fantasy, Warner Bros. With Family Bandstand, Castle.
Gear
Basses Two ’07 Zon Legacy Elites; two ’06 Zon Legacy Standards; ’82 Zon Legacy Elite; fretless Ibanez Roadster; custom Ibanez Fender Bass VI-style 6-string
Strings Zon UltraSonic stainless-steel roundwounds (.045–105)
Pick Dunlop thumb pick
Bass Pedals Roland PK-5 Dynamic MIDI Pedal
Amp Roland D-Bass 210
Phoenix recording rig Zon Legacy Elite, both direct and through a miked Ampeg SVT
