Henry VIII's six wives

It can be probably deduced from some of my recent stories that I'm slowly trying to revisit the old records in my collection—something I've neglected for far too long. In the past year, I've written about Carole King's Tapestry and Chicago's Chicago Transit Authority, and today, it's Rick Wakeman's The Six Wives of Henry VIII on the turntable. It was his debut solo album in 1973 after branching out from the band Yes. I can’t recall exactly when I bought this record, but it must’ve been sometime in the mid-1970s. Actually, I bought it at the spur of the moment without knowing who Rick Wakeman was at the time. Besides, the record's title was irresistible to me! I won't be doing these revisits regularly as time doesn't always allow it. But every now and then, when the mood strikes, I'll dust off a record and write a few thoughts. 

I used to really like The Six Wives of Henry VIII when I first bought it. At the time, I was quite taken by the whole progressive rock vibe—lots of keyboards, dramatic shifts in tempo, and all the layered arrangements that made it feel ambitious and even a bit intellectual. Wakeman was already at the top of his game, and the idea of writing music based on Henry VIII’s wives seemed so cleverly out of the box.

The album was essentially a keyboard showcase. Wakeman went full wizard on the Mellotron, Moog synthesiser, Hammond organ, piano—you named it, and he played it. Each track was based on one of Henry VIII’s six wives, with its own distinct mood: “Catherine of Aragon” kicked things off with stately grandeur, and “Anne Boleyn” leant more towards the dramatic and intense. He even roped in some of his Yes bandmates—Chris Squire, Steve Howe, Bill Bruford and Alan White—for good measure.

Wakeman wasn’t just known for his prog-rock escapades. He was also a highly sought-after session musician in the late 1960s and early 1970s. One of his most recognisable piano contributions was in Cat Stevens’ “Morning Has Broken.” That beautiful, flowing piano arrangement that gave the song its gentle, hymn-like quality was Wakeman's. It’s become one of his most famous performances outside of the prog world. He also played on tracks by David Bowie—he was the one on piano for “Life on Mars?” and contributed to other Bowie repertoire.

But back to Six Wives—I have to admit, after all these years, my enthusiasm for the album has cooled. Sorry to say that prog rock such as Wakeman's just doesn’t hold the same fascination for me anymore. Maybe it’s the long-winded arrangements or the constant shifting in tone—it all feels a bit tedious now. There are still moments that catch my ear, and I can appreciate the craftsmanship, but I don’t find myself revisiting it as often. Some of the tracks on this record just go on too long for my liking these days.

So yes, The Six Wives of Henry VIII is still rightly regarded as a classic in the prog canon and a brilliant display of Wakeman’s talent. But for me, it’s more of a nostalgic listen—something I once loved, but that doesn’t quite resonate the way it used to. Still, for anyone curious about Wakeman’s musical range, the album is a good place to start—and knowing he’s the same guy behind “Life on Mars?” and “Morning Has Broken” adds a nice bit of context to his versatility.

Side A: Catherine of Aragon, Anne of Cleves, Catherine Howard
Side B: Jane Seymour, Anne Boleyn 'The Day Thou Gavest Lord Hath Ended', Catherine Parr