At 81 years old, Jon Anderson, the ethereal voice behind the progressive rock legends Yes, has finally opened up about the complex, beautiful, and often painful relationship he shared with guitarist Steve Howe.

Their partnership, which defined an era of rock music, was marked by soaring creativity, profound musical synergy, and ultimately, heartbreaking separation.

In a candid reflection, Anderson reveals why, after decades of collaboration and conflict, he and Howe will never work together again — a revelation that resonates deeply with fans of one of rock’s most iconic bands.

 

It all began in London, 1970.

Jon Anderson was searching for the perfect musical partner to elevate his young band.

After releasing two promising albums, Anderson’s vision for Yes was grand and boundless, but still half-formed.

Enter Steve Howe, a wiry guitarist with quiet confidence and a virtuoso touch.

From the moment Howe auditioned, playing impromptu solos that cascaded and twisted in ways Anderson had only dreamed of, a kindred spirit was found.

 

Their chemistry was immediate and electric.

Anderson’s celestial vocals and poetic ideas found their perfect counterpart in Howe’s inventive guitar work.

Together, they crafted songs like “Yours Is No Disgrace” and “Starship Trooper,” which announced Yes as a bold new force in progressive rock.

Their creative brotherhood transformed Yes from a struggling group into rising stars, with a shared ambition and trust that seemed unbreakable.

By 1972, Anderson and Howe were at the peak of their collaboration.

The album *Close to the Edge* was a near 19-minute epic that felt like the summit of everything they had built.

In the studio, they pieced together intricate motifs and melodies, seamlessly merging Anderson’s ethereal concepts with Howe’s dazzling guitar runs.

The result was music that was both complex and emotionally powerful, leaving fans and bandmates alike in awe.

 

On stage, their connection was palpable—exchanging smiles and playful flourishes during intense instrumental breaks.

They seemed like two halves of a whole, proving that ambitious, layered music could capture the hearts of mainstream audiences.

Yet, even as they rode this wave of success, pressures and creative differences began to simmer beneath the surface.

 

In late 1973, Anderson and Howe embarked on their most extravagant project yet: *Tales from Topographic Oceans*, a double LP steeped in mystical and spiritual themes.

While Anderson spearheaded the vision, Howe dove in alongside him, crafting sweeping guitar themes to match the cosmic ideas.

 

To Anderson and Howe, *Tales* was a bold statement of artistic freedom.

But others in Yes, including keyboardist Rick Wakeman, grew frustrated with the album’s excess and complexity.

Critics panned it as overblown, and tensions within the band escalated.

Wakeman’s boredom and dissatisfaction became evident during the tour, and by its end, he quit.

The departure of Wakeman was a gut punch to Anderson and Howe.

The once-tight creative core was showing cracks, and the pressures of ambitious projects and touring took their toll.

 

Despite recruiting new members and releasing *Relayer* in 1974, which showcased a jazzier, fiercer sound, Yes was feeling the strain.

Band members explored solo projects, hinting at diverging creative paths.

The brief rejuvenation with Wakeman’s return for *Going for the One* in 1977 was short-lived; subsequent albums and tours revealed growing disagreements.

 

Anderson and Howe remained a strong team but occasionally clashed over the band’s direction—Anderson pushing for grand, symphonic concepts, Howe favoring more accessible, grounded music.

By the late 1970s, these creative differences intensified.

 

The unthinkable happened during 1979 recording sessions in Paris.

Musical differences boiled over: Anderson envisioned lighter, uplifting music, while Howe and bassist Chris Squire pushed for a harder, aggressive edge.

Frustrated and heartbroken, Anderson walked away from the band he co-founded. Wakeman soon followed.

Howe was left to carry on Yes’s legacy, recruiting new members and releasing *Drama* in 1980.

Though the album earned decent reviews, the absence of Anderson’s voice was deeply felt.

The band quietly disbanded after the tour.

 

While Howe formed the supergroup Asia in 1982 and enjoyed chart-topping success, Anderson pursued solo work and collaborations, proving his enduring vocal and creative power.

For the first time since 1970, the two were musically estranged, their partnership a bittersweet memory.

 

Though fans longed for a reunion, the 1980s saw Yes evolve without Howe, and the two rarely communicated.

A reunion in 1989 with Anderson, Howe, Wakeman, and Squire rekindled the magic briefly, but the subsequent “Union” project in 1991, combining multiple Yes lineups, was chaotic and fraught with conflict.

Howe described it as a fiasco and left again.

 

In the mid-1990s, Howe rejoined Yes officially, and the band released new music and toured extensively.

Anderson and Howe appeared more in sync, crafting expansive songs reminiscent of their 1970s work.

Yet subtle tensions remained, with Anderson pushing ambitious concepts and Howe preferring fan-friendly approaches.

By 2004, after years of intense activity, the band took a break.

Plans for a 40th anniversary tour in 2008 were derailed when Anderson fell seriously ill.

As Anderson convalesced, Howe and other members replaced him with Benoît David without his approval, a move Anderson viewed as a betrayal.

 

This fracture deepened the divide.

Anderson formed Anderson, Rabin, and Wakeman (ARW) in 2016, performing Yes classics with his voice front and center, while Howe continued with the official Yes lineup.

The two versions of Yes toured simultaneously, dividing fan.

 

Despite the bitterness and separation, Anderson and Howe have, in recent years, expressed mutual respect and fondness for each other’s artistry.

Anderson calls Howe one of the finest guitarists he’s worked with, and Howe praises Anderson’s unique voice.

 

However, when asked about a full reunion, Howe remains firm that it is “completely unthinkable.” Anderson has accepted this, focusing instead on new projects and celebrating the legacy they created together.

In his recent interview, Anderson reflects with warmth and maturity on their shared history.

“We were like brothers,” he says.

“Brothers fight sometimes, but you never forget the love of a brother.” Though they seldom speak, their bond endures quietly, woven into the timeless music that defined progressive rock.

 

The story of Jon Anderson and Steve Howe is one of soaring highs and painful lows, of creative genius and human frailty.

Their partnership shaped a genre and inspired generations, yet was marked by the inevitable conflicts that come with great ambition and strong personalities.

 

Now, in their 80s, both men have found peace in their separate paths, honoring the past while embracing the present.

The door to collaboration may be closed, but the music they made together continues to resonate, a testament to a bond that, despite everything, remains unbroken.