Jon Anderson: Olias of Sunhillow; Fifty Year Friday: July 1976

Jon Anderson: Olias of Sunhillow

Through the mist of fifty years of high energy music listening, we turn back the pages, the pages of the elaborate album insert in the Olias of Sunhillow gatefold jacket, to note that it was indeed fifty years ago, at the end of June and beginning of July (end of June for the USA and beginning of July for the U.K.), that Atlantic Records released an album like nothing before it — and was actually able to do this simply because progressive, adventurous music was commercially viable!

I first saw the album in the record store near our college campus sometime in 1976, noting its resemblance to that remarkable Roger Dean cover for Yes’s late-1971 masterpiece, Fragile. The next thing I remember about this release, after purchasing the album, bringing it home, and removing the cellophane wrapping, was looking at those exotic album notes within the inner pages of the album’s cover. This text started out apparently lucid, even though somewhat poetic: “Through the mist of a million years of high energy three riders skimmed the surface of the plain of Tallowcross and raced towards a dream. Their meeting point lying between the glades and Gardens of Geda and the high mountain masses, where fountains of light and colour and soft winds of passion openly existing through wisdom, surrounded the three that silent eve, they sang together through motions only ways, as all around them sparkled and chorused in wonder.”

It then got a little harder for me to follow: “OLIAS was to build the ship the Moorglade Mover RANYART was to guide the moments begotten light QOQUAQ a leader, a fashioner of peoples of Sunhillow.” But this is still understandable — and this ship here is that ship on the cover of Fragile — the inspiration for this album. As one reads further, the story becomes a bit vague but is still more or less coherent, given the oddity of the narrative: “Four tribes lived on Sunhillow and existed through music, rhythms and tempos, each of the tribes attained a light of their own through their songs to their stars, so their energy, their souls, their time, their movements were all accordant to the stars.”

As the tale unfolds, the average reader may draw a parallel to the story of Noah’s Ark — but this would be a mistake — here we do not have an angry or disappointed all-powerful being bringing the end of a world, but the inevitable appearance of a preset expiration date: “Hurtling through space amidst countless sister planets, Sunhillow had held the tribes for as long as time would allow.” And note, there is not one tribe to be saved, but four, each of these tribes distinguished by their musical preferences. But even more importantly to note, the animals are not brought onto the Moorglade Mover, specifically meant to be an interstellar people mover. No, the animals are not saved. On the contrary, all the fish of the ocean (apparently just one ocean on Sunhillow) sacrificed themselves, in tandem with the trees, to build this alien ark: “Olias had been busy, and having sang his song the metalic-like trees with their golden leaves jingling like winter snow, had motioned their strong roots to slowly dance out of position towards Olias to create the frame of the Moorglade. With spread-eagled wings and high masts with enough room for all, it stood, near ready, it needed only to be strengthened and covered and this was for the fish of the ocean the ‘solar’ to do. Olias reached out with voice and sound to ease them from their play. As intertwined and inter moving parts of the ocean rose into the air glistening in the quick wind, they rushed expectantly towards the frame and crashed their forms and clasped and died as all will; the Moorglade was ready.”

The text continued, but I didn’t. It was time to put the LP on my turntable. I removed the tinted dust cover of my BSR 810 and put on side one. Now, I had no expectations for the lyrics, which were also printed in the included booklet, to shed any significant light on the story — to this day, I have no clue what Jon Anderson’s lyrics from Close to the Edge or Tales from Topographic Oceans supposedly are about, but understanding the narrative was not even slightly my objective — I wanted to hear the music! Would this be as pleasant a surprise as Chris Squire’s 1975 solo album, Fish Out of Water? Would it have a similar sound to any Yes album?

Well, no, it didn’t have that classic Yes sound of Fragile or Squire’s Fish Out of Water. But it did have similarities to some parts of Tales from Topographic Oceans, and the vocals, often effectively layered through overdubbing, were all by Jon Anderson, one of the most distinguishing signatures of the Yes sound. The lyrics, as with the Yes albums, were crafted to support and enhance the music, and that is a big bonus for any music lover — us music lovers can often appreciate excellent lyrics, but are even more appreciative when the lyrics are an inherent part of the musical experience.

Now, musically, this album was like nothing I had heard previously. Please note that there was a short period of time when major labels were pretty progressive about what they released. They had learned their lesson, albeit only briefly, that they were bad judges of what the public would appreciate and what music was commercially viable. Atlantic record executives had watched the U.S. release of King Crimson’s debut album climb up the Billboard charts in the U.S. and sell well for months after its release, and had seen Yes’s Close to the Edge peak at number three in the U.S. and number four in the U.K. So Atlantic was not only fine with releasing solo albums by Yes members, but was actively encouraging their recording and release. In the case of Olias of Sunhillow, this paid off — the album climbed to number 8 in the U.K., and though it only reached number 47 in the USA, that still meant big profits for Atlantic.

Now, if you are still with me, let’s talk a bit about the music. And as your opinion on this is as important and relevant as mine, I welcome your thoughts in the comment section.

This is truly a bit of progressive rock, a bit of New Age, a bit of world music, with some folk elements present in the general mix. It is wonderfully executed. There is not a moment of virtuosic playing; the production quality is not of audiophile merit; there is limited notable melodic or harmonic material; and the music is all performed by someone with limited instrumental capabilities, whether that be on synthesizer, electric or pipe organ, mellotron, electric or acoustic piano, electric guitar, acoustic guitar, bass guitar, bağlama or other lute-like instruments, Celtic harp, sitar, tampuri, bouzouki, African wooden flute, mbira, or a host of percussion instruments, including marimba, xylophone, glockenspiel, triangle, tambourine, cymbals, wood blocks, gongs, Navajo drums, Caribbean drums, African drums, and possibly a kitchen sink, though I didn’t actually hear one on my copy of the album.

But Jon Anderson has a remarkable vision of what he wishes to achieve here, and his vocals and handling of the broad range of timbral possibilities of the dozens of instruments he plays create a singular, cohesive, and engaging listening experience. New Age and world music albums would soon flood the market, mostly on small, independent labels, with the 1980s bringing about a virtual deluge of diverse and exciting material, but it was prog rock that mainly explored this area in the 1970s, with this first Jon Anderson solo album being one of the best examples.