When Rick Wakeman’s world fell apart, the collapse was as spectacular as his keyboard playing. His second marriage unraveled, and he lost all his money and the people he thought were his friends. 

At one stage. he says, he even found himself homeless. ‘The famous sleeping-on-the-park-bench number,” he calls it, with surprisingly good cheer.

For much of the past two decades, Wakeman has been clawing his way back to the middle class. That journey could culminate with the new disc, Return to the Centre of the Earth (the followup to 1974’s Journey to the Centre of the Earth) and a 2000-2001 tour with Keith Emerson, the other keyboard god of 1970s art-rock. 

Ah, the ’70s. Times were good then. Audiences devoured the music Wakeman made in the band Yes and as a solo artist. Yes sold-out arenas worldwide on the strength of a run of albums — Fragile, Close to the Edge and Tales from Topographic Oceans. 

After Wakeman quit, fans followed him through his first trip to the center of the earth, into King Arthur’s court (The Myths and Legends of King Arthur) and through the life of Franz Liszt (Lisztomania). 

And when he rejoined Yes for Going for the One and Tormato, the followers came back with him. 

Then punk rock hit. Bands like Yes and guys like Wakeman, with talent and classical influences, became outcasts. 

“For those who’d been sensible,” he says, “and I mean for those who had one wife, who’d stayed in the same band, who had the same management, who’d listened to their account-ants and advisers — they’d all managed to put some money to one side so they could ride the storm for a few years and then reappear. 

“I’d made getting married a hobby. I’d had arguments with the tax authorities and lost the court cases, so that cleaned me out. The marriages were very expensive. Ted been in and out of bands, changed labels and, basically. I didn’t have a penny. I had absolutely nothing.” Except a park bench. Wakeman went through 1980 and part of ’81 pitying himself. He wondered how perhaps the most talented rock keyboard player of all time could end up penniless, homeless and friendless. 

Abandoned by friends 

‘*The hardest thing I had to swallow was that all the people I thought were my friends — road crew that had worked with me for years and I’d had on retainers and Old really decent money to just vanished” he says. “‘couldn’t get any one of the crew even to give me a lift to a railway station. People I worked with for 10 years who I thought were my friends. And that’s when I realized that In this business. I didn’t have any (friends).” • 

Then he met Nina, the woman who would become (and has been for 17 years) the third Mrs. Rick Wakeman.

She looked at the mess he’d gotten himself into and said the same thing anyone who knew of Wakeman’s prowess would say: How? 

But she also said something that started Wakeman thinking. She 40, “They’ve taken everything else but they can’t take away your talent. You can wave the talent in their faces.” 

So Wakeman began to figure out how to make a living. He realized that any number of small labels in other countries might want a Rick Wakeman record of some kind. 

He made contacts. A Japanese label wanted rock synthesizer music. Australia asked for quasi-classical piano. Germany could sell New Age. 

He took the advance money from each, built a small studio, and, over the next several years. recorded More than 30 discs for different markets. Not for art’s sake, but just to survive.

Said ‘Yes’ to Yes 

That kept him hanging on, but it didn’t solve the lingering tax problems. By the early 1990s, he had to sell the rights to all his royalties. 

When Yes reunited to record Union and tour in 1994. Wakeman was there. And when record companies heard he wanted to make a sequel, they opened their wallets. (He now has a “nice” house and small studio. but no liquid cash.”) 

 EMI Classics financed the $800.000 project. which features the London Symphony Orchestra and guest vocalists including Ozzy Osbourne and the Moody Blues’ Justin Hayward. (By comparison, the 1974 version cost $55.000.) 

 Wakeman’s immediate future will be determined in the next few months as the record company monitors sales figures. Return does well, he’s likely to get the money to tour.

 If the record doesn’t succeed, it won’t be for lack of effort. The music is a throwback to Wakeman’s ‘705 classical sound, with several stirring keyboard flourishes plus some fish-out-of-water experiments. Strings play the heavy gui-tar parts, trombones replace the bass and Osbourne sang with a symphony. 

 You almost shied back from saying, ‘One of the things I want to do is get Ozzy Osbourne singing in front of a symphony orchestra,” Wakeman says. “Because I thought maybe if I say that too loud, it’ll never get done. ‘Oh. Wakeman’s gone to the funny farm. Get on the phone and book him a place in the home for the chronically groovy.’ ” 

 Wakeman is figuring that he’ll spend the rest of this year and into next on Return, then team up with Emerson for a dueling keyboards tour (with a band) that will take him into 2001. 

 After that, it’ll be time to settle down. Last year, Wakeman battled chronic pneumonia and pleurisy that damaged his right lung and likely will lead him to a more sedate life of writing TV and film scores. Doctors have suggested that he exercise (he walks 15-20 miles a week) and take better care of himself — In all senses. 

 “I’ve had some fantastic highs and stunning lows.” he says. I don’t think I could handle anymore stunning lows, I’m too old for that. I’ll settle for looking for a few peaks instead.”