Review of Yes' Close To The Edge

Released 1972

"The time between the notes relates the color to the scenes. A constant vogue of triumphs dislocate man, it seems. And space between the focus shape ascend knowledge of love. As song and chance develop time, lost social temperance rules above".

When referring to any new book or magazine around the subject of prog rock, sooner or later, within the first paragraph or so, usually in close conjunction with King Crimson, Genesis and Emerson, Lake & Palmer, I found that Yes were almost universally acknowledged as masters of the genre. Close To The Edge was typically held up as their flagship work. As such, a dozen or so albums into my prog journey, and with The Yes Album already on my shelf and well respected, it was inevitable that I would turn to this, their fifth album, next.

As I touched on in my review of The Yes Album, I was aware of Roger Dean's logo from a young age. I actually remember sketching it on the cover of my Geography exercise book when I was thirteen or fourteen, alongside the logo' s of Black Sabbath, Status Quo and ELO. Whilst I was familiar with all of these bands, (Yes; even ELO) I couldn't have named a single Yes song or album. Now, a few years later, I was delighted that I had made the decision to purchase the first album to contain the iconic Yes logo proper. Terribly shallow, I know.

My 'Nice Price' edition of the album purchased in 1984, was single sleeve with a plain white inner sleeve. As such, it wasn't until I saw a friends older edition later at University - along with the majority of the rest of the 'classic era' albums - that I realised I was missing out on the the full spectacle of Roger Dean's fantastical landscape work.

I had been disappointed when I purchased The Yes Album to learn that Rick Wakeman wasn't yet in the group. Stories of his caped antics reached beyond the inner sanctum of the prog fan base to the mainstream. Noting that he was present and correct on Close To The Edge heightened my sense of anticipation. The fact that there were only three tracks and that the first was divided into four 'parts', with names like 'Total Mass Retain' were obvious give aways that this was a piece of prog.

I settled down in the early hours of the following morning, switched out the main overhead light, turned on the lamp with a red light bulb muted by an occasionally smouldering tea-towel, put on the headphones, placed the stylus on the vinyl and waited.

Like The Dark Side Of The Moon, Close To The Edge seemed to take an age before anything was picked up in the headphones. How to describe those first twittering sounds? I've always bizarrely pictured them as organic, pastoral or birdlike. These then quickly dissolved into a cacophony of odd time signatures, circling between keyboards, bass and guitar, round and round, repeating a complex motif, which was incredibly dense and difficult to penetrate. Like The Yes Album, the bass again appeared to dominate, weaving unorthodox patterns, further complicated by the stop /start drumming pattern underpinning it and a jazzy angular rapid guitar motif. A pattern would emerge before being replaced with another, and another. Then all would stop and Jon Anderson would utter a quick 'aaahhh' before it all commenced again become more and more complex.

After a few minutes, a form of calmness descends and an extraordinarily surreal lyric commences; utterly impenetrable and, to this day unfathomable to anyone I have ever met. Although the lyrics were nonsensical, the harmony, the 'fit' between the actual sound of the words as opposed to the meaning of the words and the nature of the music it accompanied was undeniably wonderfully effective.

As the title track moved through it's various parts, I could see why the term 'symphonic prog' had been applied to this album. Whilst much of this eighteen minute plus title track was too dense to take in that night, the centre piece - the passage preceding( I Get Up I Get Down) and including the cathedral of sound of the specular keyboard solo - grabbed my attention absolutely. I turned the volume up as loud as was comfortably possible while the reverbation of the church organ made me glow with excitment. Not since The Dark Side of The Moon had a an album pulled me in so deep and made me feel so protective of it completely.

While the utter unintelligibility of the lyrics of the epic title track and the odd but masterful muscianship made me smile, I found that I had tears in my eyes when confronted with And You
I. Although I couldn't fathom any logic behind Jon Anderson's lyrics, his delivery was impeccable and unmatched. Siberian Khatru passed in a bit of a daze; I was exhausted.

When the album finished, I immediately turned it over and played it again, recording it on the second side of my C90 cassette which already had The Yes Album on the other side. Wonderful times.