Yes: “If I placed the pressure on myself of constantly trying to live up to that history, I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed.”

More than five decades after the release of their self-titled debut, Yes remain one of progressive rock’s defining bands. Rather than looking backwards, the group continue to build on that legacy with Aurora, their twenty-fourth studio album, bringing together the collective experience of a line-up that has now worked together across multiple records while continuing to embrace the expansive songwriting, musicianship and ambition that have long defined the band’s sound.

Created from a collaborative pool of musical ideas before being shaped under the guidance of guitarist and producer Steve Howe, Aurora reflects a writing process built on trust, instinct and a shared understanding of what makes a Yes record. While honouring the spirit of the band’s past, the album also looks firmly ahead, balancing intricate compositions with fresh ideas and reaffirming the creative partnership that has allowed this incarnation of Yes to become the longest-serving line-up in the band’s history.

Speaking with V13 for our latest Cover Story, bassist Billy Sherwood discusses the collaborative process behind Aurora, Steve Howe’s role as producer, carrying forward the legacy of Chris Squire and Yes, the band’s enduring creative chemistry, the importance of human artistry in an AI-driven world, and why, more than fifty years after the band’s formation, Yes continue to look to the future rather than the past.

It has been said that the album began as a collection of musical fragments and ideas rather than with a defined concept. At what point did those ideas begin to form into a record? It feels as though it came together quite quickly after the ‘Classic Tales of Yes’ tour.

“We’ve developed a process over these last three records. When we know we’re going to open a writing window and have a timeline before moving into full production, we all go into our own corners, create pieces of music and put them into a pool. There’s also collaboration within that. There might be something between me and Jay, me and Jon, Geoff and Steve, or Jon, Steve and me. It becomes a large melting pot of music that has come from many different directions. Steve, as the producer and the person seeing the way forward, then knits those pieces together in ways you wouldn’t necessarily expect because one section wasn’t originally written with the intention of another following it. You end up with entirely new pieces by proxy. Once we have them in a shape and form that we all agree on, we move forward and begin making a record.”

When you bring those fragments together, at what point do you say, “That is a Yes song”? Is there a particular quality you’re looking for? There are songs on the album that are thirteen minutes long, so I assume the approach is different from writing something that lasts four minutes.

“At the end of the day, Steve is the person behind the wheel, putting the chunks of music together. The pieces that become longer develop that way because there are enough different sections available and the music warrants sustaining itself for that length of time. I don’t personally think about duration when I’m writing. As for knowing whether something feels like Yes, I’ve mentioned this in other interviews. I’ve been around Yes for a long time, going back to the Union record, so I’ve developed an instinct for what feels “Yes-y” to me. I write many things, and they don’t all feel like Yes.

For example, I was doing a bass session for a client and, while getting my bass tone together and checking the levels, I began playing a little bass part. I thought it was cool, and my first thought was that Chris would probably have liked that bass line because it was one of those roaming kinds of parts. That eventually became “Cut from the Stars” on the last record. When I listened back to check the tone and heard the riff, I knew it was something. I took it from the session and placed it in a folder on my desktop called “Yes Ideas.” I go back to that folder, look at the different pieces I’ve created and either knit them together or develop them further. Those ideas come to me, and I feel confident that my instinct is right. That’s part of being a musician and having the nerve to release records because it can be a rough trade.

Confidence is one thing, but you also have to believe in what you’re doing. Once those ideas are passed into the band and everybody has their eyes on the music and feels confident about it, we know we’re heading in the right direction.”

On the other side of that, do you instinctively know when something is ready to submit to the band as a Yes piece? Do you keep certain ideas back for other projects?

“I know the moments when something feels ready to present. Certain songs also begin one way and end up somewhere completely different. A good example is the phrase “in the blink of an eye.” I can’t remember exactly which track it appears in now because it all becomes a blur, but lyrically and melodically that was originally part of a section I had written for a song called “Virtuality.” It was taken into the process and reworked. I know when something feels ready to submit. We all have a very broad range of music that we love, so you can present almost anything you feel confident about as long as it falls within the boundaries of what we’re trying to do. Those boundaries are very wide.”

When you came off tour, was there already a conversation about making another record?

“I don’t remember the exact date of the meeting, but this has happened three times now. We’ll be on the road having a band meeting about various things, and then the idea of making a record comes up. We all look at one another and say, “That sounds like fun.” Then it becomes a question of the timeline and where we can fit it between all the touring because we’re on the road almost relentlessly. We agree to do it around the table, so to speak, and then set an agenda. We might establish a three-month writing window and decide when production will begin.

I’ve been recording drums with Alan and Jay in Los Angeles at a studio I work in, and I’ve also recorded most of the bass parts there. That allows the rhythm section to feel authentic and real because it’s a bass player and drummer playing together. We’ve developed a method that has now carried us through three records.”

“We all have a very broad range of music that we love, so you can present almost anything you feel confident about as long as it falls within the boundaries of what we’re trying to do.”

Steve has described making the album as joyful, and you’ve also mentioned it being fun. Did it feel particularly relaxed this time, or was the experience different from the previous records?

“Every record I’ve been involved with for Yes has felt easy and enjoyable. That includes writing Open Your Eyes and The Ladder with the band, as well as the productions I worked on from the other side when I wasn’t in the band, such as the Keys to Ascension material. I’ve always had a great time working with this band. Of course, there are political rough waters during the process, but every band has that.”

It wouldn’t be the music industry without that…

“Exactly. The fact that it isn’t a damaging factor for us is demonstrated by how long this line-up has been together. This is the longest-running version of Yes there has ever been. I think I may be the only Yes member who has been involved in so many different versions of the band. That includes the Talk tour, the period with Igor, The Ladder, Open Your Eyes, rejoining with Alan White and then Jay coming in. There was also a period during The Ladder tour when Adam Wakeman played keyboards, which created another version. I’ve seen many different line-ups, but I think the chemistry within this version speaks for itself.”

The line-up has now worked together across several albums. Does that familiarity with one another and the way everybody works make the writing process easier?

“It does because there’s a sense of trust. Nobody is trying to force something into the music simply because they want to get their own idea included. Nobody is trying to push a square peg into a round hole. It’s usually quite obvious what works. We’ve all been doing this collectively and individually for a very long time, so we know what each person does, both as a writer and as a player.

Steve might send me some tracks and say, “Go for it.” I’ll record my parts and send them back while wondering whether I’ve done too much. He’ll write back saying, “I love this. We’re moving on.” Equally, I’m not asking whether he has recorded a guitar solo yet or demanding to hear it to make sure it’s good. We don’t work like that. When we were younger and playing in younger bands, we called that overdubbing by committee, and there’s nothing worse than that. You tend to do it when you’re young, but as you grow older, build a track record and understand what everybody brings, it becomes easier to trust one another to make the right choices.”

Steve Howe has also produced the album. What is it like for him to take on that added responsibility, and what do you think he brings to the role?

“I understand the job of producing because I’ve done plenty of it myself, and I’m happy not to have that responsibility here because I love being able to concentrate on being a musician. I appreciate all the hard work Steve has done. I have a deep respect for him. I’ve known him for a very long time, and we’ve gone through a lot over those decades while remaining friends and continuing to work together. I respect him as a musician, songwriter and producer.

When we were making The Quest, Steve said he wanted to produce it. That made sense to me because he has been part of this band for a very long time and understands the way forward. Again, it comes back to respect and trust.”

You mentioned your own role as a producer. When you produce an album that you’ve also contributed to as a musician, does it give you a different perspective?

“I don’t think it does because I’ve never approached production by only looking after my own interests. There can be an assumption that because you’re the bass player, you’ll make sure the bass is turned up, but I’ve never worked that way. Partly because I play so many instruments, I want everything to shine and be heard. Even if the music is complex and crazy, my job is to make it all work.

In complicated progressive music, that comes down to the mixing, setting the EQs, choosing the reverbs and balancing the textures so everything can be heard in the right place. Steve understands that mentality, as does Curtis Schwartz, who is a great engineer. With the two of them at the wheel, I feel very comfortable. They sent me the record and asked whether I had any comments, and I honestly didn’t have much to say. Some fans might argue that the bass should have been louder in a particular place or something else should have been changed, but I’m listening from a different perspective, and it sounds really good to me.”

V13 Cover Story #130 – Yes

One of the comments made about the album was that it aims to retain the classic Yes sound people have grown up with while also moving into new territory and keeping everything fresh. Is that something you think about when writing?

“It’s never on my mind. If I woke up thinking, “Today I have to write something as great as ‘Close to the Edge,’” I would probably fail. There’s no reason to try to recapture that lightning and force it into another bottle because it isn’t going to happen. I’ve never worked that way. Going back to when I wrote “The More We Live – Let Go” with Chris, we didn’t say, “Let’s write an epic.” We simply wrote what we wanted to write.

That has always been my compass in this business: stay true to what I believe in and see what happens. Am I right? I don’t know. We’ll see. For the most part, I’ve been fortunate that the things I believed in have blossomed and developed into something. There’s the Prog Collective material, my Citizen records, my solo work and the records I’ve produced. I’ve been lucky that those things have come to fruition, and I’m grateful for that in a very difficult business.”

Aside from the business side, you’ve had a long and successful career across many different projects. What does Yes give you creatively that those other projects don’t?

“Yes is the one that ticks every box. It always has. I could show you photographs of myself at twelve years old wearing Yes T-shirts. I’m a diehard fan. I knew every nook and cranny of the band’s history before I knew any of the people involved because I was so fascinated by it. I discovered Tales from Topographic Oceans, which became my favourite record, and then explored backwards and forwards through the band’s catalogue. I’ve been a diehard ever since.

“There’s no reason to try to recapture that lightning and force it into another bottle because it isn’t going to happen. I’ve never worked that way.”

If I placed the pressure on myself of constantly trying to live up to that history, I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed. On one hand, somebody could say I’m overly confident because I simply do what I want to do, but believing in myself and doing what feels right at that particular moment has always served me well.

Yes affords me all those different opportunities. I’ve had the experience of producing the band, including producing the classic Yes line-up, which was incredible. Everything you do in this business gives you experience if you’re smart enough to listen and learn. I’ve learned a great deal from the different artists I’ve worked with across the other projects I’ve mentioned.

With Yes, it begins with my passion for the music and the legacy we know we have to uphold. There’s also my passion for trying to move that legacy forward as best I can, both for myself and because that was what Chris asked me to do. I took that responsibility very seriously.

Then there’s the opportunity to stand onstage and perform these incredible songs that I grew up loving. I knew “The Gates of Delirium” like the back of my hand before the first time I played it with the band. When we arrived at rehearsal, it was a case of, “Let’s go.” It’s an amazing adventure, and I’m honoured and grateful to be part of it. I continue trying to push it forward.

Something appears to be working because here we are in 2026 with a Yes record at number three in the UK charts. We were behind those two guys in the polka dots, whose name I’m probably pronouncing incorrectly. In a world of AI and so much disposable music, I think it’s very cool to see them at the top because they’re pushing so many boundaries.

Not only visually, which is the obvious part, but musically as well. They’re asking a lot of listeners to understand what they’re doing because it isn’t normal, and I love that. That’s why I’m involved in progressive music. I want things that aren’t normal. Seeing them cross over, gain traction and become so successful is very inspiring. When I saw our record beneath theirs in the chart, I had two thoughts. One was, “Damn, they’re right above us. Can we get up there too?” The other was how cool it was that the top positions were occupied by things that, according to the conventional wisdom of 2026, shouldn’t necessarily be happening. Yet they are.”

How much does seeing bands like that, and seeing Yes performing so strongly in 2026, motivate you to keep moving forward?

“It’s an incredible motivating factor, but it isn’t something I expect. When we finish a record, I’m not assuming it will reach number three in the charts. I expect good things to happen and I’m happy when they do, but when something like that happens, it’s especially exciting.

It’s driven by the fan base, which tells me that they want this to continue as much as I do. Despite the naysayers and what we sometimes call the vocal minority, the vast majority of people want to see Yes thriving in this era. Therefore, that’s what we’re going to continue doing.”

I suppose you can understand that perspective because you were such a major fan of the band while growing up. You can see it from that side too.

“I’ve seen it from every side. How many people can say they joined their favourite band on the planet and then served in all the different capacities I have? Every time I worked with the band, it was unique. I initially came in as a songwriter with Chris and played multiple instruments on “The More We Live – Let Go” for the Union record. I thought that would be the end of it. Then I was asked to join the Talk tour and perform live with what was essentially the 90125 line-up. Later, I produced the classic Yes line-up, joined the band, left the band and eventually came back under the terrible circumstances of losing Chris.

It’s difficult to believe that I’ve now been back for eleven years. There was no way I was going to say no when Chris asked me. Regardless of whatever politics may have influenced my emotions at different points, including leaving in 2000 because I wanted to do other things and felt I’d had enough, I’ve always had a fire inside me wanting to see Yes succeed. It’s my favourite band. It’s like supporting your favourite football team. If you support Arsenal, you want to see Arsenal succeed.”

Yes ‘Aurora’ Album Artwork

You mentioned AI. I don’t want to disappear too far down that rabbit hole because we could probably talk about it for ten hours. Progressive rock has always embraced experimentation, though. You’ve seen the development of the genre as a fan, producer, writer and musician. Are you excited by the way modern recording processes have opened creative doors that might not have been available twenty years ago?

“I don’t know that it has changed the landscape I recognise as a songwriter and artist because I’m still doing what I’ve always done. To be completely honest, I don’t have AI tools. I don’t have ChatGPT on my phone, and I don’t have Grok. I’ve deliberately avoided those things because I don’t feel I need them.

I’m sure I could take out a phone and ask it to give me some lyrics resembling “Close to the Edge” because I had writer’s block, and it would produce endless options. However, there would be no soul or genuine meaning behind them. It would simply regurgitate what it had already learned. It would have processed all the Yes lyrics and then taken a bit from one place and another bit from somewhere else. That isn’t songwriting to me, and it doesn’t evoke genuine emotion.

The reason I enjoy doing what I do is because writing music is therapeutic. If you’re having a terrible day, you can go into the studio, write a song and express it. You can do the same when you’re having a great day. If you’re writing lyrics that are emotionally heavy, you can allow the music to become more melancholy. I tend to lean into melancholy because it helps me express those emotions. I don’t need Skynet to help me work that out.”

The title track was originally simply another song. How did it become the title of the album, and how does it feel to have it represent the record?

“From my perspective, Aurora sounded like the touchstone for the record and a representation of the world listeners were about to enter. When I received the email asking what I thought about using it, I said it made sense. Then I saw the artwork and thought it made complete sense.

“I don’t have AI tools. I don’t have ChatGPT on my phone, and I don’t have Grok. I’ve deliberately avoided those things because I don’t feel I need them.”

Roger’s work on the album is stellar. We’ve just been discussing AI, and there is Roger Dean with a paintbrush in his hand creating these worlds. You’re not going to get that from a computer. You might get something resembling the general atmosphere, but you won’t get the genuine article.

Roger’s artwork is an important part of the whole experience, both for me as a fan and as an artist. It continues representing Yes in the way we knew when we were younger, listening to Relayer thousands of times while staring into that canyon on the cover and thinking, “I don’t know what this is, but I love it.” That was a time when you had to use your imagination.”

We don’t do that as much anymore.

“I know, but indirectly we’re asking people to experience that again, and they seem to want to, especially younger people. I did an interview yesterday with a young woman calling from Santiago, Chile. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen and was interviewing me for her university. She was raving about the record and knew the band’s entire history. Halfway through, I had to remind myself that she was only eighteen. It was bizarre because we’re usually talking to older people.

That age group is discovering Yes. If there’s a new Yes record for them to enjoy and connect with, it continues the same cycle that has always existed around the band. It regenerates itself.”

That must be incredibly rewarding, not simply being interviewed by somebody who is eighteen but experiencing that timeless connection across different generations.

“It was very cool, and her questions were very sweet. One of them was, “I saw that you posted a photograph with your cat, and its name was really funny.” I told her the name was Super Sox Explorer Junior Two. She said, “Yes, that’s it. Why ‘Two’?” I explained that my four-year-old son had named the cat. When I asked him why it was called “Two,” he said, “Because I’m number one.” I thought that made complete sense.

That generation is coming from a completely different place and joining a journey that some of us have already been following for a very long time.”

You mentioned Roger a moment ago. Jon has spoken about how the title created a real visual inspiration for him. At what stage does the visual side become part of the process of making a Yes album?

“I think Roger gets a sense of where we’re going and sees the song titles. Then he’s off and running. I’m not present at the beginning of that process to witness the birth of his ideas. I only see the results, which are always amazing. When he saw the title Aurora, it clearly inspired what he eventually created. I think he absorbs the information about what we’re doing, sees the words, lyrics and song titles, understands the overall atmosphere and then does his thing. I’ve always called Roger the sixth member of the band.”

Does it feel like that?

“It does, and he has toured with us so often. We’re very close when we’re on the road. He’s a wonderful person, as are the team who travel with him and operate the Dean Gallery. It creates a great experience. I think it’s brilliant that fans can get so close to Roger before the concerts, see the artwork and shake his hand. As a twelve-year-old Yes fan, if Roger had been standing outside the venue, I would have arrived an hour early simply to spend time around him.”

You’ve talked about being a twelve-year-old fan of the band, as well as producing, writing, touring, leaving and eventually rejoining Yes. This is now the band’s twenty-fourth album. From your different perspectives as both a fan and band member, where does this record rank among your favourites?

“You’re never going to remove Tales from Topographic Oceans from the top of my list because it had such a huge impact on me. It established a template showing that you could create something with four songs across four sides of vinyl that was completely experimental but still filled with incredible themes.

There are so many great Yes records that it’s difficult for me to answer. I’m a fan and I’m close to the music. Fans will perceive what we’ve made differently because I’m part of the system that brought it into existence. The memories I have of sitting with Relayer, staring into the artwork and thinking about what it meant to me are incredibly powerful. I spent so much time playing drums along with those records as a child before Jimmy Haun told me, “Sell the drums, buy a bass, and I’ll teach you some things so you can play along with the Yes records.”

Without Jimmy, I don’t know whether I would have become the bass player in Yes. With all that history and knowledge, it’s difficult for me to place my own work alongside those records. However, it is all part of the same story, so I hope this record stands the test of time.

I meet people on the road and always ask what their entry point into Yes was because mine was Tales from Topographic Oceans. One person told me that The Ladder was their introduction, and I was surprised. I forget how long ago that record was made, but for some people it’s enormously important, and I’m glad they view it that way.

My own memories of The Ladder involve the chaos of writing together in the studio, living in Vancouver and dealing with the band politics of the time. My experience becomes blurred, and it can be difficult to step outside that and decide how good the finished record is.”

To finish, if twelve-year-old Billy were holding this new record, looking at the artwork and listening to the music, what would he be thinking?

“I think he would be amazed that something like this could exist, especially if I were twelve years old today in a world of short-form videos and reels. I would probably think, “This feels completely different. What is this?” I wouldn’t necessarily understand the depth of how and why it had been created by hand or appreciate the human factor involved because I would have grown up surrounded by iPads and Xboxes.

Knowing how I was at that age, and the fact that I was already musical because of my parents, I would see it as an incredibly unique experience in a world of sameness. I don’t want that to sound rude, but reels often become the same thing. You sit there doom-scrolling, and one video starts to look like the next. There’s nothing particularly different.

This record stops you in your tracks and asks you to engage in another way. It engages your imagination differently and stimulates you visually in a different way. Then there’s the audio experience. When you put on headphones, surrender to the process, find a dark room and open the cover beneath a small light so you can see it, it becomes like a film for your ears. I think twelve-year-old me would be thinking, “Wow.” It would make me fall in love with the band all over again.”