THE PROG INTERVIEW
Over a period of 50 years, Patrick Moraz has played a diverse range of styles, yet always with his own inimitable approach to the keyboards. The 70-yearold first got noticed in his native Switzerland as a teenager, when his skill as a jazz musician became apparent. But it was in 1969 that he started to make his mark in the prog world as he formed Mainhorse after moving to England. Five years later, he was part of Refugee, alongside bassist/vocalist Lee Jackson and drummer Brian Davison, which meant that indirectly he was replacing Keith Emerson in a new representation of The Nice!
Subsequent stints with
Yes, taking over from Rick Wakeman, and The Moody
Blues, superseding Mike Pinder,
The Prog Interview is just that: every month, we’re going to get inside the minds of some of the biggest names in music. This issue, as part of our 50 Greatest Keyboard Players selection, it’s Patrick Moraz. The Swiss player has spent time in The Moody Blues, Yes and more…
cemented his prog reputation. Since then, he has carved out a successful career recording solo albums and film soundtracks, as well as working with other notable musicians. In fact, he’s just signed a deal with Cherry Red for the reissue of his entire solo catalogue.
Moraz is without doubt a major figure on the progressive scene, even if sometimes he doesn’t seem to get the respect he deserves.
Were you a musical prodigy?
No. Sure, I wrote my first composition at the age of five, but that was just five bars – nothing special. I was lucky to have parents who were actively involved in music. My dad booked jazz bands into a casino in north Switzerland and I got to see many of them by the time I was four. I began at that age to play the violin, and got my first one directly from Yehudi Menuhin. But because you start young doesn’t make you a prodigy.
As a young man you spent time with Salvador Dalí. What did you learn from him?
That was an amazing experience. I had just got a diploma in skin diving when I was asked to instruct his people. Dalí was remarkable. I was one of the few who had the privilege of being allowed into his studio while he painted, and when he found out I played piano, he got me to give regular concerts for his friends. I think what I learnt from him was to be transcultural – not to be artistically narrow.
You also supported John Coltrane on a European tour in 1965. How challenging was that?
There was no challenge because I was never in competition with him. I was 21 when I got this opportunity and I played an hour every night with my jazz quartet. But it was remarkable to see such a genius up close.
When did you start to get interested in prog rock?
My dad refused to let me listen to any American rock’n’roll when I was growing up. But when I first came over to England in 1964 to work as a chef, I discovered the British rock bands of the time. I enjoyed their pop songs but always thought there should be more to music than that. Then I heard The Nice and Yes and they caught my attention, because for me that’s when rock music became really interesting.
With Refugee, did you feel you were taking a Keith Emerson role?
I never saw myself as taking over from Keith. You know, I still recall a night in 1969 when by accident I ended up at a party in the London hotel where I was staying and jammed for an hour on piano with Keith. That was the night I met Lee and Brian, and we exchanged phone numbers. It was four years later that Lee called and we met up and started Refugee. That was a fantastic band, but we were determined not to become a new version of The Nice because we were doing something different. And
I believe the album we did is full of good music and has a brilliant production from John Burns.
The band only lasted for that one album. Why did it end so quickly?
That’s simple: it was down to arrogant management. I actually had music composed for a second album. But in those days I have nothing negative to say about Yes or the Moodies, who are among the greatest bands
of all time. I count myself fortunate to have been with both.
I didn’t really understand how the music business worked, and then we were told that the budget for our second record would be lower than for the debut, which was ridiculous. So, things were not at all good on that basis.
Then I got a call asking me to audition for Yes.
What do you recall about the audition?
I remember Brian Lane, the band’s manager, picked me up in his Jaguar and nearly ran me over! He drove me to the rehearsal room in North London where all of their equipment was ready. The keyboards were Vangelis’ set-up, which hadn’t been played for a couple of weeks [Vangelis had previously tried out to become Rick Wakeman’s replacement, but things hadn’t worked out], so they were a little out of tune.
The guys all turned up one by one in their expensive cars and then they tested me out. They called the next day to offer me the job, but I wanted to make sure that Lee and Brian were looked after as well. I didn’t want to leave them in the lurch with Refugee. We were still committed to doing a few gigs and I was glad to make sure they were done.
What memories do you have of working with Yes on Relayer?
Can you believe that Sound
Chaser was worked out and recorded during my audition? The band had part of it already composed and played it to me then. Jon Anderson asked if I had any ideas for an intro so I came up with something they really liked, which sparked Alan White and Chris Squire to come up with ideas. Eddy Offord recorded it on the spot and that’s what was used on the album. So, this was done before I was officially in the band. I used to be driven every day from my home in West London to the studio in Virginia Water, Surrey, which was 40 miles. During that trip, I would play cassettes the band had given me with musical ideas, which I would learn ready to record. Overall, the whole thing was so enjoyable. I loved making the album and am so proud of the music.
How much did getting sacked from the band affect you?
It shocked me. I had done three amazing tours with Yes, which were hugely successful. These included the biggest shows the band had done up to that point. And then one day in November 1976, Jon Anderson politely told me that they wanted me out. What could I do? I just had to accept the decision and go. But it really puzzled me, and felt like it was out of the blue. However, let me emphasise that I regard Jon as a musical genius, and I have nothing but huge admiration for the rest of the band as well. And I have the fondest memories of my time with them.
You joined The Moody Blues in 1978, but it took another two years for you to become a full member. Why was that?
When they first asked me to join, the band invited me along as a session man. Which was fine from my viewpoint – I was just happy to be involved with such an amazing band. Then
when we recorded the Long Distance Voyager album in 1980 [released the next year], I was asked whether I would like to be credited as the orchestral arranger for the record or become a full-time member. That was no contest as I was delighted to be in the band as an equal. So, if you look at the album credits, Pip Williams is down as arranging the strings, when it really was me who did that. But I have no problem with it at all.
You were with The Moody Blues for 13 years. Did you feel like you helped to bring them into a fresh era?
I do, yes. I have nothing but the greatest respect for what Mike Pinder did with the band. He was truly brilliant. But what I found was that I brought in my own ideas for new sounds and they were readily accepted by the others, which was very gratifying. I loved my time with the Moodies – it was very rewarding on a number of levels. Towards the end, things were expanded with other keyboard players and female singers being brought in. Maybe that wasn’t what I would have personally done, but I understood and accepted their reasons for doing this, and I have nothing but the nicest things to say of my time with them.
How did you react to not being inducted into the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame with either Yes or The Moody Blues?
I really never thought about it. I don’t believe that my impact on either band can be decided by whether or not I’m in a hall of fame. What I did with these bands is out there on record and always will be. And I have nothing negative to say about Yes or the Moodies, who are among the greatest bands of all time. I count myself fortunate to have been with both.
Your 1976 solo album The Story Of I is regarded as a highlight of your career. How far down the line are you to finishing the proposed script for the movie based on this?
I’m working on this, yes. It’s a question of getting the timing right. But the film will definitely happen at some point. And
I will expand the story told on the record because I want people to understand it on a higher spiritual plane.
Is this album your finest solo achievement?
I’m not sure I can answer that. But I remember that in ’76 it topped a lot of magazine polls as being the best album of that year, so that tells you something. Actually, the real title was just
I. But my label, Charisma, didn’t really think it would make a very good title at all. So, they were the people who began to call it The Story Of I, and that seems to have stuck. Whatever you call it, I believe I showed what I could creatively achieve.
Do you feel undervalued?
In what way? I’ve been lucky enough over many years to work with some of the greatest musicians in the world, across a lot of different musical genres. These are the sort of people who don’t work with you unless there’s respect. So, among my peers, I have no doubt
I’m valued. Beyond that, it’s not for me to say. But I’m not bothered by such things.
I have been lucky enough over many years to work with some of the greatest musicians in the world.