Bill Bruford, the drummer who could swing a stopwatch and still make it sound human, landed in the spotlight with Yes in the late ’60s into the early ’70s, then jumped ship right at the peak to join King Crimson in the early-to-mid ’70s—because apparently comfort is for other people. I watched him keep chasing the sharp edge: his own Bruford projects in the late ’70s, the art-rock supergroup U.K. around 1978–79, a side detour with Genesis on the road in 1976, and later the high-wire reunion years with King Crimson in the ’80s and again in the ’90s. When the decade changed and rock started getting hairspray on everything, he went the other direction—founding Earthworks in the late ’80s and treating jazz fusion like a precision instrument (and, yes, producing and shaping the sound like he was editing a film frame by frame). Toss in the late-’80s/early-’90s Yes-adjacent chapter with Anderson Bruford Wakeman Howe, and you’ve got a career that reads like a map of every interesting intersection in progressive music—played by a guy who never once seemed tempted by autopilot.

Bill Bruford Wiki