I was planning to write about Yes much later, but I decided to do it this week since I mentioned them in the previous column. In the period from 1971 to 1974, Yes was the ultimate rock band; its members and music were powerful candidates for every “The greatest [something] of rock music ever” title. There will be exaggeration in the first half of this column.
After releasing two studio albums, the band recruited Steve Howe, whose guitar skills can be surpassed by only a few players. Bill Bruford, one of the most influential prog/jazz drummers, the legendary bassist Chris Squire, Jon Anderson with his uniquely sharp vocal range and keyboardist Tony Kaye were the other band members at this point. Yes made their progressive rock debut in 1971 with “The Yes Album,” a very strong recording. Yes’s music is not as complex as that of some of their fellow bands, but they are very successful in organizing lengthy songs. That approach was developed in this album.
After the release of “The Yes Album,” Rick Wakeman, who is often cited as one of the two GREATEST rock keyboardists, replaced Tony Kaye. With this replacement, Yes could boast the most skilled lineup of musicians in the rock genre, which could only be rivaled by the lineups of jazz fusion bands. Their two following albums were released by that ensemble. “Fragile” (1971) displays the more mature form of the style that the band adopted in “The Yes Album.” The experimentation aspect is hard to analyze for the lengthy tracks on “Fragile,” which make the listener think that the music has been sufficiently perfected, such that there is no need for more experiments. The shorter tracks also have some gems among them; Howe’s composition for solo nylon-string guitar, “Mood for a Day,” is truly impressive and leaves a smooth touch in the listener’s ears. In contrast, the following (and closing) track, “Heart of the Sunrise,” starts with a violent and amazingly well-structured intro, putting the listener into a focused state. On a side note, this happens to be the GREATEST song intro ever.
“Close to the Edge” (1972), which consists of only three songs, is considered by most listeners to be the GREATEST progressive rock album. All three tracks share a very similar sound, which is expressed successively in an epic, a romantic and a dark manner. The epic expression is the title song, whose themes include nature, chaos, adventure, dreaming and returning to your origins. The structural connection and musical representation of these themes are accomplished just perfectly. With Wakeman’s legendary moog solo and Anderson’s impressive climb to the top of his vocal range, “Close to the Edge” can easily make a claim to be enthroned as the GREATEST song ever. The romantic expression, “And You and I,” is a rare work, given the scanty number of love songs in the prog domain. It depicts the relationship of a man and a woman, from birth to death. The lyrics for this track are written very cleverly; instead of expressing love, they draw images that connect love to life, learning, progression, happiness and the experience of overcoming hard times together. It wouldn’t face much competition in being named the GREATEST love song ever. The dark expression, “Siberian Khatru,” has more emphasis on the lead and bass guitars. It offers the listener an amazing show, in which Howe and Squire fight brutally to be in front. It seems artistically weak compared to the other two tracks, but it packs an edgy riff that greatly excites the listener.
“Tales From Topographic Oceans” (1973) is Yes’s controversial double album, consisting of four songs, each lasting about twenty minutes. Alan White replaces Bill Bruford, who had left the band to become the drummer for King Crimson. It is the kind of record that people label as either “a work of genius” or “boring and pretentious” (I vote for the “genius” label). Due to space constraints, I won’t write much about this one, but let me say that Wakeman was wrong when he openly declared that he hated every aspect of the album.
1974 was the year in which some of the most representative prog bands released their last masterpiece-level albums, and Yes was one of them. Some very good material can be found in their further discography, but “Relayer” marks the end of the great Yes period. This time, classically trained keyboardist Rick Wakeman was replaced by former jazz keyboardist Patrick Moraz. This replacement must somehow have affected the band greatly, because “Relayer,” which (again) only includes three songs, is their jazziest album; in fact, it is the only Yes album with a significant jazz atmosphere. Unexpectedly, this jazzy feeling is provided mainly by Howe’s aggressive guitar playing, with a bit of influence from flamenco. Moraz’s keyboards build vibrating, shiny layers of sound effects. Unlike the tracks on “Close to the Edge,” the three on “Relayer” have properties that make them very different from each other. The first track, “The Gates of Delirium,” is an epic composition that tells the story of a war; this is a powerful rival to “Close to the Edge” for the “greatest song” title. It builds tension right from the beginning, which transitions into an aggressive, instrumental battle scene, which in turn transitions into a mellow ending section, highlighted by Anderson’s lyrics, which express hope and longing for peace. The second track, “Sound Chaser,” is extremely experimental and seemingly does not follow any pattern. The song shows how versatile the players are with their instruments, but the music is mostly dominated by Howe’s jazzy playing; his solo in the middle is out of this world. The third track, “To Be Over,” is an unusually relaxed song with a relatively low level of complexity. The entire song has a feeling of the end of a beautiful thing: it’s kind of sad, but it’s okay because it had to happen. I think that if the Yes members’ careers had ended after this album, it would have been a perfect conclusion for their studio discography. At any rate, it concludes the great Yes period.