Review of Yes' Relayer

Released 1974

"Listen, your friends have been broken,
They tell us of your poison; now we know.
Kill them, give them as they give us.
Slay them, burn their children's laughter, on to hell".

Although I already owned four Yes albums by the time I bought Relayer, I wouldn't have classed myself as a Yes fan. My recorded to cassette versions of Close To The Edge, Going For The One, and The Yes Album in particular, were frequently played on my tape player in the Halls of Residence in Glasgow, but I was yet to be smitten. It was with Relayer than I became a bona fide Yes nut, kick-starting my drive to collect (almost) everything the band had recorded both before and afterwards.

Perhaps 90% of my record / cassette purchases while at University were second-hand, with a significant proportion coming from the £1 bin. However, being the frivolous and not to say foolish type, I was occasionally drawn to full priced albums, with HMV in Glasgow City Centre holding a particularly exciting appeal to this poor deprived country boy.

Along with Tales from Topographic Oceans, I had long seen Relayer as one of the finest examples of album sleeve art and had coveted it for several years. Now that I was building up my library of prog, I still viewed both of these albums as two of the pillars supporting the foundation of all that I held dear. Both the inner sleeve artwork on Close To The Edge and the music itself provided an insight into the mystical magnificence I felt must be contained within the vinyl grooves of Relayer. Where I felt (until then anyway) that CTTE fell short, I was sure that Relayer would deliver on my expectations.

Upon returning to the Halls with my purchase, I was delighted that a good friend, who was in possession of a complete set of classic era Yes albums, courtesy of his elder brother, imparted his view that this was indeed a worthy addition to my collection, being one of his favourites. This pleased me greatly.

Whilst, being picky, I would ultimately have preferred an original, less glossy copy, when finally alone with my own new copy, it was intensely gratifying that the actual experience of poring over the outer and inner sleeve was every bit as good as I hoped it would be. Twenty two years on, I still love this sleeve, considering it to be one of the most successfully evocative of the genre. For me it is the embodiment of prog; mythical landscapes, fantastical enough to have roots in reality but surreal enough to have a presence in another, weirder dimension.

This was my fifth Yes album and the fifth different line up the band, with the unknown quantity being hitherto unknown (to me, at least) keyboard player; Patrick Moraz.

There are a number of albums, where I've purposefully delayed the first airing to put off the possibility that my high expectation might be dashed unless I was in the right frame of mind. As anyone reading this is likely to be either a fan of prog rock, Yes or rock music in general, I can be reasonably confident that this is not a unique feeling.

Immediately, Gates of Delirium appeared to me as more stridently confident, precise and aggressive than any of the Yes albums I already owned. As with all their albums, Chris Squire's trademark bass style leaps out straight away. The track starts off with my favourite drum sound on any Yes album. The spiky angular overture quickly develops into a more uniform song structure with Jon Anderson's typically obscure lyrics delivered at a break-neck pace, much more emphatic than anything else I'd heard to date. Slowly, subtly the pace of the track picks up interspersing urgent lyrical passages with gradually intensifying instrumental passages. The delivery of the lyric quoted at the head of this review with Chris's accompaniment is both menacing and beautiful; an odd but effective achievement. There is plenty of room for the bass to stretch out and Steve Howe to impart rapid, jazz inflected solos. After about eight minutes, a series of keyboard and guitar exchanges begins, which endlessly spiral upwards, becoming seemingly more complex as the pace continues to increase. The 'battle sequence' of the song is without doubt the heaviest passage of music Yes have (yet) recorded, laying to rest - at least temporarily - any suggestion that Yes were only capable of soft melodic prog rock. There are numerous points where a climax appears imminent before building up to yet another layer of intensity.

There is a remarkable transitory three minute period where, once the climax finally arrives, the tracks morphs perfectly into the final, softer 'Soon..' section where Steve moves to pedal steel guitar accompanying the impeccable vocal. The contrast between the fast pace of the first part of the track and the lilting orchestral sublimity of the closing passage is wonderfully realised. I remember playing this to my girlfriend at the time, who wept the first time I played it to her. In my opinion, this is the greatest side long suite Yes have produced.

Like Close To The Edge, the second side also comprises just two tracks. Sound Chaser is tremendously ambitious. Full of jazz-fusion type instrumentation. Although I'd rate Bill Bruford as a greater drummer than Alan White, there is some good stuff from Alan on Relayer and on Sound Chaser in particular. Again, Steve Howe is on fire; loads of blisteringly difficult solos, including a marvellous, largely unaccompanied section in the middle of the track. Jon again is never better. Barking mad as always, but with the voice of an angel. Patrick Moraz gets to have a genuine freak-out moment at the end of the track where the enthusiasm from all concerned spills over into the daftly effective 'cha-cha-cha-cha-cha' ending.

To Be Over is arguably the most underrated song in Yes' entire canon. Much softer in tone and spirit than the preceding tracks, this provides the calm after the storm. This is a lovely song to have playing through your headphones as your fall asleep. Whilst I can't imagine Rick Wakeman playing on either of the first two tracks, this stylistically, could just as easily have been an out-take from Close To The Edge. The outro to this track is beautifully considered, gently lowering the listener down after a hectic trip.

This is an album of real contrasts. As a total package; sleeve, variety of musical types, lyrics ambition and humour, I think this is Yes' finest hour.

Review of Yes' Fragile

Released 1971

"Love comes to you and then after, dream on, on to the heart of the sunrise. Sharp-distance, how can the sun with it's arms all around me? Sharp-distance, how can the wind with so many around me I feel lost in the city."

My first three Yes albums were - in order of purchase - The Yes Album, Close to The Edge and 90125. My crashing disappointment with the last of these had the impact of devaluing the other two, coming the consider them as good, but not great.

Thus, by the time I went away to University, Yes could not be considered a favourite band of mine, although I had the first two of these three albums on opposing sides of a C90 cassette. I was, if truth be told, gutted that i had come to see Yes as nothing special. I have previously mentioned elsewhere in this blog that I had been aware of the mystique and grandeur of the Yes name from a very young age, long coveting the gorgeousness of Roger Dean's handiwork, fantasizing that the music that it enveloped was as beautiful and mysterious. Now, three albums in, the pedestal had toppled and my interest had waned.

My opinion was changed by a friend's elder brothers collection of original Yes LPs. This friend had inherited not only his brothers records but his passion for Yes. This was, from memory, a more or less complete collection of Yes' seventies oeuvre, so there was wall to wall Roger Dean, vast opening gate folds and lyric sheets. Prog heaven, in other words. Combine this with the extra kudos afforded by the scuffed edges, mild fading and industrial thickness of the vinyl and I could once more glimpse my pre-pubescent fervor for the mystique of the band.

And so to Fragile itself. I knew in advance that this was seen by fans as one of the pinnacles not just of Yes' career but of the entire prog genre. The artwork was obviously iconic one of those I had been aware of from before the age of ten.

This was the first album featuring Rick Wakeman, and it's his distinctive keyboard work that launches Roundabout and continues to define a key shift in Yes' sound from The Yes Album. I have as much time for Tony Kaye as Rick Wakeman. I've wondered often why the latter is so revered while Tony was all but forgotten until the execrable 80's albums. They have a very different sound but of equal value in my view. However, Roundabout's undoubted infectiousness is down to Rick Wakeman's contribution. I read somewhere that Jon Anderson was inspired to write the lyrics when seeing the mountains of Scotland looming out the mist, not that you would know from his bonkers lyrics: as obtuse as a fish in a Landrover.

What stops Fragile being regarded more highly be me and by many others is the mix of more successfully realised lengthier group songs and the shorter individual tracks. Yes, it's very prog to show off your remarkable virtuosity, but, call me unadventurous, it only succeeds in punctuating the album badly. Just as The Beatles White Album would have been a less successful release if the genius of the track sequencing had been altered, I believe Fragile could have been a classic with more prudent editing.

Now that I've shown my colours as a miserable old fart, this is a minor quibble as the longer tracks are uniformly excellent. South Side of The Sky is a particular favourite with a grand interplay between Rick and Steve Howe. As barmy as Jon Anderson is, his performance is transcendent, in a league of his own. SSOTS is a standout group effort with Bill Bruford's drumming frighteningly complex and very very tight with Chris' bass.

Long Distance Runaround achieves the seemingly impossible: a catchy sing-a-long prog song with lyrics that defy explanation.

Heart of The Sunrise is stunning. Jon's delivery is profoundly beautiful producing arguably the best track Yes had recorded up until that point.

To this day, although not my favourite Yes album, Fragile remains one of the finest headphones albums I own.

Review of Yes' 90125

Released 1983

"Talk the simple smile Such platonic eye
How they drown in incomplete capacity
Strangest of them all
When the feeling calls
How we drown in stylistic audacity
Charge the common ground
Round and round and round
We living in gravity"

The fact that I have attempted to write this review four times is entirely symptomatic of the frustrating experience I have each time I listen to the album.

Why I chose to purchase 90125 as my fourth Yes album remains a mystery to me. It was probably heavily influenced by the fact that at the time - mid 1985 - Yes were still riding high on the success of this, their most commercially successful album by a country mile. When flicking through the 'Y' section in any music emporium, the ubiquity of the hideous silver sleeve must have burned it's sickly way into my being. Of course, Owner Of A Lonely Heart was played as often on the radio as Kayleigh. I'd almost certainly also seen the video, complete with blonde highlights, silly outfits and drum machines akimbo.

Why then, was it not plain to me that this was a very different animal to the prog monster albums of their which I already owned and loved? Goodness only knows?

Mind you, there is the horrible possibility that I've conveniently forgotten that I may have actually liked it first time around. I don't think so, but who knows.

My wife has just this last week, bought the latest Depeche Mode album whose sleeve shares a remarkable similarity with 90125; sharing the same metallic silver background and pastel awfulness in the foreground. This speaks volumes to me. Yes, it was a different line-up. Yes, it was a different decade, and they were undoubtedly, and ultimately very successfully achieving the objective of reaching a different audience, but the degree of difference served to alienate a large number of the long-standing fans.

I am conscious that, at the time I bought 90125, I wasn't the biggest Yes fan in the world and that my view is largely coloured by my perception many years later and with over twenty of their albums on my shelves. While this has coloured my judgement, I find it difficult to put my current view to one side.

There are some redeeming aspects of the album, though few and far between. Without Jon Anderson's involvement, I very much doubt that the album would have enjoyed a second listen. In many respects, in sharing some of the vocals with Trevor Rabin added a worthwhile dimension to Jon's styling; he was forced out of his comfort zone and produced a very pleasant result. Although I have no time for Mr Rabin's horrid MOR vocal growling, when combined with Jon's unique delivery, the result is not half bad. Throw Chris Squire's solid background vocals into the mix and it's no surprise that commercially this worked so well. Old school Yes fans took some solace in the fact that Jon's nutty mysticism was kind of still there, not completely eradicated by the Journey-Foreigner-REO Speedwagon-esque glossiness of the overall effect.

Old school Yes fans would have originally been delighted that Tony Kaye was coming back into the picture. Many of us favour his approach over that of Rick Wakeman. We were all then bemused in the resulting departure in style from anything remotely Yes-like keyboard wise on 90125. It's all special effects and very contemporary and not what most fans expected or wanted.

The rhythm section of Chris Squire and Alan White is still present, but not immediately recognisable as such. I've always felt that Alan White's background as a more straightforward rock and roll drummer meant that he probably relished the opportunity to branch out from the odd time signatures and get back to familiar territory. Chris Squire's contribution, like Jon Anderson's remains relatively unquashed, such is the distinctive nature of his playing.

As a Yes purist, I struggle to say anything positive about Trevor Rabin's role on guitar. He was no doubt was the main change from the norm and he obviously was very successful in doing what he set out to do. For me, and for many others, his style was just not Yes-like.

I don't like being negative in reviewing any album, but, as a prog album, 90125 fails on practically level. At least for me.