Artist Rundown: Yes (Part 5) - Tales from Topographic Oceans

Artist Rundown is a periodic feature in which I briefly share my thoughts, memories and opinions of an artist or group's entire recorded work in chronological order. First up is one of the bands which helped developed my love of and taste in music: progressive rock legends Yes.

Yes - Tales from Topographic Oceans (1973)

I guess I always knew it would come down to this. The one that separates the men from the boys. The one that sends punk rockers fleeing in terror to their copies of Never Mind the Bollocks. The one that divided critics and fans alike. Ladies and gentlemen ... Tales from Topographic Oceans.

In 1973, public interest in Yes was at an all-time high, thanks in large part to the smash success of Close to the Edge. There was a slight problem, though: it was hard to see where else the band could go after the vast expanse of CTTE.

Anderson had already been toying with the idea of basing an album on a footnote in Paramahansa Yogananda's "Autobiography of a Yogi" when a snarky music critic suggested Yes follow CTTE by putting the Bible to music. Anderson took this as a challenge, and devised a concept in which each side of the new album would relate to one of the four categories of Shastric scriptures.

And thus, Tales was born. Two LPs. Four songs averaging 20 minutes each. God, Indian mysticism and Univeralism. Have fun, kiddies.

The first thing you notice when you put on side one, "The Revealing Science of God: The Dance of the Dawn," is how mellow everything sounds. Whereas "Edge" started with a rush of manic energy and aggression, "Revealing" starts with ... pastoral chanting. Yes, it's quite bizarre -- a one-note, lyric-packed melody that gradually builds in intensity before settling down to a nice, laid-back groove. It's very pretty -- even beautiful -- and chock full of inventive guitar work, but there's something oddly folky and definitely stoned about this Topographic business, and the murky production just ups the weird ante even further.

By this point it becomes clear the group's approach to the epic-length song has changed, probably due to the fact that they had to come up with four of them. "Close to the Edge" was lengthy, but it had a very coherent structure. Tales' epics are more random, gliding from one section to another, introducing many different passages and riffs in a manner that comes off as rather linear until they reprise a previous section at a key moment. This would be aggravating if the band didn't do it so well -- careful attention clearly went into writing and arranging every passage, and the transitions never sound too out-of-place.

Side two consists of "The Remembering: High the Memory," an even more mellow track with a beautifully dreamy melody and some nice baroque refrains. The track is even more abstract than the first -- there is a section featuring washes of atmospheric sound and sonorous synthesizer leads that recurs throughout to great effect. The liner notes say this is a musical representation of the "Topographic Ocean," and I must say the band's attempt is impressively evocative.

"The Ancient: The Giants Under the Sun" kicks off side three with a quirky percussion-driven section (borrowed from Rick Wakeman's Six Wives of Henry VIII) before introducing an appropriately mastodonic musical portrayal of the song's subject matter. Twelve minutes in, the track takes a detour into a gorgeous classical guitar/vocal duet before crashing back down on the main "Giants" theme. It is interesting indeed to hear Yes working in such experimental parameters -- it ain't King Crimson, but it'll flip your weird-wig just fine.

The closing "Ritual (Nous Sommes du Soleil)," has a more traditional Yes-epic song structure. This is the one where it all comes together -- the band finally gives us some old-fashioned, up-tempo, major-key Yessism, replete with those busy Squire basslines the album seemed to be missing up to this point. The core "song" is a beautiful, classic Jon melody that erupts into a kick-ass jam halfway through, complete with heart-pumping bass and guitar solos and a weird, jarring percussion-driven section meant to portray "the ritual of life." The song closes with a gorgeously sensitive vocal part from Jon -- perhaps his best moment on the album -- and an incredibly menacing and climactic guitar solo by Howe.

So, overall, very good, if not perfect. You do have to kind of let down your defenses to get the full cathartic effect of this stuff, especially when the cringy religious lyrics start in the latter third of "Revealing" ("Glory to sons of all righteous paths" -- yikes). But it is impressive indeed that the band could keep up the originality over nearly 80 minutes of music, much less conjure some moments of true resonance that stand alongside the best of the band's output. You have to be in the right mood, for sure, but when it strikes you, Tales hits the spot perfectly.

Postscript: The 2003 Rhino remaster tacks a couple of extra minutes onto the beginning of "The Revealing Science of God" that were excised just before the album's release due to length concerns (IMO, this an improvement -- I always thought the start on that one was too abrupt anyway). This release also has studio run-throughs of "Revealing" and "The Ancient" that are worth a listen for fans of the album.

Artist Rundown: Yes (Part 6)

Artist Rundown is a periodic feature in which I briefly share my thoughts, memories and opinions of an artist or group's entire recorded work in chronological order. First up is one of the bands which helped developed my love of and taste in music: progressive rock legends Yes.

Yes - Yessongs (1973)

Oh boy. How could an album like this not reach classic status among the Yes faithful? Spanning an unheard-of-at-the-time three LPs, Yessongs culls together every song played on the Fragile and Close to the Edge tours, most of which mop the floor with their studio counterparts in terms of sheer energy. The record also features several extended or alternate arrangements of well-known favorites and supremely entertaining solo spots from Howe, Squire and Wakeman.

So why have I never felt the same special connection with Yessongs as I do the other Yes records of the era? Well, the production. It is truly atrocious. The material from the CttE tour in particular sounds distorted, muddy and over-reverbed. It would almost be tolerable if it weren't for the mix -- whisper quiet bass, screamingly loud guitar, almost inaudible keyboards that lurch forward for certain sections ... and that's just the first song.

Anyway, a little historical context: After the release of Close to the Edge, Bill Bruford shocked everyone by leaving the now very successful Yes for the decidedly un-commercial King Crimson. It proved to be the right move, allowing the band to bring in a drummer who was perhaps more in line with the music that was to come. In-demand London session player Alan White, whose references included names such as John Lennon, George Harrison and Ginger Baker, had three days to learn the group's epic setlist before the start of the tour promoting Close to the Edge.

The bulk of the recordings on this album come from this time, and it is impressive how quickly White adapted to the band's notoriously tricky arrangements. Being a more straight-ahead rock drummer, he tended to "slug it out" where Bruford would dexterously dance around the beat. While some aspects of this can be irritating -- particularly White's tendency to constantly bang on a ride cymbal or open hi-hat -- there's no denying he pushed the group to be more aggressive and "ballsier" than ever, with Steve Howe in particular cranking the distortion on his guitar even higher than before.

The three tracks from the Fragile tour, with Bruford on drums, boast some of the interesting deviations from the studio versions found on the record. While the double-riff section of "Perpetual Change" is executed more or less as on the LP, the band unexpectedly follows it with a guitar-led jam section and drum solo. "Long Distance Runaround" proceeds as on the album before launching into an epic, multipart version of "The Fish" that more than triples the length of the LP version -- it could be the most musically fascinating section of Yessongs.

That's not to say the band doesn't stretch out on the White recordings. Yours Is No Disgrace is a true extravaganza: Just where Howe's mid-song fuzz solo is supposed to end, the guitarist lets forth nearly two minutes of almost unaccompanied, fleet-fingered guitar leads. The band then launches into a massive, heretofore unheard ensemble riff that carries Howe all the way back to Anderson's plaintive vocal. Hot damn. The group would use this arrangement on stage for another 40 years.

As you can probably tell by my above review, my feelings regarding the album have warmed considerably over the years. Yes, the recording quality is abysmal. Yes, the group wouldn't reach its full live potential (in my opinion) until the Relayer era. But this is the sound of a band in the midst of its most fertile and creative period, performing its best-loved work while it was still relatively fresh. There will probably never be anything like Yessongs again, and to this day there's nothing quite like sitting down with the original triple-LP set for two full hours of mind-blowing musicianship and epic songcraft.

Stick around, Yessongs, warts and all.

Random Record Review: Soft Mountain - Soft Mountain (2007)

Soft Mountain - Soft Mountain (2007; recorded 2003)

In 2003, former members of British jazz-rock legends Soft Machine came together under the name Soft Works for a one-off album and tour. That August, while touring Japan, bassist Hugh Hopper and saxophonist Elton Dean took a day to jam with two of Japan's most creative musical personalities, composer/keyboardist Hoppy Kamiyama and drummer Yoshida Tatsuya. These completely improvised sesssions were finally released in 2007 under the name Soft Mountain.

Consisting of two lengthy, exploratory "suites" -- one clocking in at 30 minutes, the other at 27 -- Soft Mountain is an intelligent, challenging journey that never fails to stimulate. This music is Free with a capital "F," with zero composed reference points and a lineup that has never played together before learning how to push each other's buttons in real-time.

The first thing one notices as the disc begins is Tatsuya's immacuately produced drumming. Wreathed in a roomy, ambient acoustic environment, his kit sounds absolutely massive, and his insistent, constantly-changing whirlwind of fills and rhythms comes off as more force of nature than human musician. This encourages the rest of the quartet to push the envelope, taking a decidedly "heavy," rock-influenced approach as they move through the record's various grooves, moods and directions.

Like most free jazz, the emphasis here is not on individual solos but the ability of the band to spontaneously create something interesting in a group context. While there is plenty of free jazz-like dissonance on display, the group always manages to slink into a solid, riff- or groove-based idea -- usually based on one of Hopper's monster basslines -- before going completely off the rails.

There are also some surprisingly sensitive moments. Less than 20 minutes into Part II, the rhythm section slowly retreats, leaving Kamiyama and Dean to a gorgeous sax-piano duet in which Kamiyama seems to channel mid-'70s Keith Jarrett. This serves as a transition to the furious climax of Soft Mountain, a major-key fusion romp that is perhaps the record's most accessible moment.

Of course, music like this isn't for everybody. But for fans of early-'70s Soft Machine's free-jazz/rock stylings, this should be a no-brainer, and anyone looking for the missing link between rock music and free jazz will have their minds suitably blown. The fact that half of the musicians were well into maturity at the time of recording makes the record's aggression and energy even more incredible. A solid, worthwhile effort.

Artist Rundown: Yes (Part 5)

Artist Rundown is a periodic feature in which I briefly share my thoughts, memories and opinions of an artist or group's entire recorded work in chronological order. First up is one of the bands which helped developed my love of and taste in music: progressive rock legends Yes.

Yes - Close to the Edge (1972)

After the one-two punch of The Yes Album and Fragile, it seemed like Yes could do no wrong. The band was quickly reaching its critical and commercial apex, and expectations were high for a fifth album.

Yes proved to be up to the challenge, constructing what many fans to be its creative peak: Close to the Edge.

The album consists of only three songs: one 18-minute title track backed by two 10-minute "mini epics." Songs as long as 20 minutes were not unheard of at the time, but where groups like Emerson, Lake and Palmer composed "suites" of individual-but-interconnected song fragments, Yes wanted to write a Song with a capital "S" -- logical development, melodic continuity and coherent structure were not going to be sacrificed in the name of length.

Yes, "Close to the Edge" is truly a masterwork. The opening alone was enough to hook me: The sound of birds and a bubbling brook suddenly give way to an ominously ascending ensemble riff before transforming into a dense, head-spinning melee of notes and rhythms. Then, without warning, all the instruments stop, and a single chord of harmony vocals bursts through. Just as quickly, the dense jamming returns, even more ferocious than before. And that's just the first two minutes.

As mind-blowing as "CttE" is, the crowning achievement of the album is side B's opener, "And You And I," often a candidate among fans for the best Yes song ever. Everything about it, from the beautifully sad 12-string guitar in the intro to the various tension-release sections, oozes personality and emotion. The first mid-song climax bellows with power, with soaring orchestral mellotron and synth sounds providing the basis for Anderson's beatific vocal. Just when you think it's over, the 12-string intro returns to transition us into something a bit more rock-based but no less trivial before the cataclysmic finale.

That leaves the closing "Siberian Khatru," a slightly more straight-ahead rock tune and guitar showcase that would become a staple curtain-raiser at Yesshows for decades to come. The herky-jerky riff sounds great with the spacious vocal harmonies on top, and the contrasting moods of the shifting vocal refrain sound like they shouldn't work but somehow do. My favorite part of the song is the berserk harpsichord solo, which can only be described as "hilarious" -- and I mean that as a compliment!

Of course, the record was a smash success, reaching Number 3 in the US and Number 4 in the UK (imagine an album with an 18-minute symphonic rock song doing that today). After the album was released, Bill Bruford left the band to join King Crimson, a move shocked everyone considering KC's decidedly "un-commercial" disposition and Yes' success at the time. Of course, this did nothing to quash the ever-expanding ambitions of Anderson and Co. ....