Yes — Discography
Prog Rock · England · 1968–1980
Yes [1969]
After what I wrote in the introduction, you probably decided that the very first Yes album — like In The Court Of The Crimson King — was a landmark event in the world of prog rock? If so, you were wrong. Yes, you can already hear echoes of the style that would make the band famous three years later, but nothing yet hints at something as grand as Close To The Edge. Moreover, it's hard to even call this progressive rock at all. Can you imagine a Yes album with not a single track longer than seven minutes?!
In other words, Yes is a fairly simple album (by prog rock standards). That simplicity, however, is not the kind that's worse than theft, because almost every song on this album is genuinely very good. The opener Beyond And Before, with its unusual intro and heavy bass riffs from Chris Squire, grabs the listener from the very first seconds. It's followed by I See You — a cover of the Byrds song, performed in an unusual but enchanting jazz style (largely thanks to guitarist Peter Banks). The album also features a reinterpretation of Every Little Thing from Beatles For Sale. In the original it was a simple but charming pop tune; Yes transformed it into something utterly fantastic, genuinely progressive, with jazzy improvisational passages and brilliant drumming from Bill Bruford. Another demonstration of Jon Anderson's reverence for the Liverpool four is the beautiful ballad Yesterday And Today. Damn, it sounds as if McCartney himself wrote it! Sweetness — another charming love song — simply fills the listener to the brim.
The album closes with a loooong composition called Survival, which in general resembles Yes's later work but is less technically refined, less interesting and varied. I don't love this song, just as I don't love the pseudo-medieval ballad Harold Land — both Genesis and Gentle Giant were far more successful at evoking a medieval atmosphere.
To sum up: a brilliant debut, and — as with Jethro Tull — completely unlike the band's later work (with the possible exception of Time And A Word).
Time And A Word [1970]
The second Yes album was released in 1970 and stands apart from all the band's other records for two reasons: first, it was the last "normal" Yes album — normal in the sense that it consists of regular-length songs, none of which crosses the seven-minute mark; and second, it is their first and last album to feature a real orchestra.
One of the two main criticisms of Time And A Word is precisely that the lush arrangements with their abundance of strings are completely out of place. They don't feel like an organic part of the compositions — they sound as if, at the last moment, the producer decided that Yes's music lacked pomp and invited the nearest available orchestra to fix this regrettable oversight.
Even with these ridiculous orchestral arrangements the album would have sounded decent, were it not for the fact that the songs themselves — their structure, melodies, vocal harmonies — are for the most part significantly weaker than on the debut. This is especially noticeable on the long track The Prophet, with its organ intro that painfully recalls The Knife from Trespass, and a completely unmemorable main section.
The remaining songs, however, are still quite good. This applies above all to the title track — a genuine anthem of joy and good spirits. Its chorus is simply wonderful, and the melody is so charming that even a not-very-good arrangement can't kill it.
Like the first album, Time And A Word contains two covers. No Opportunity Necessary, No Experience Needed is a reworking of a Richie Havens song. Yes turned it into a genuine prog rock celebration. If anyone thinks Yes is primarily Jon Anderson's vocals and Rick Wakeman's keys, that person is gravely mistaken — Yes is first and foremost Chris Squire's phenomenal bass guitar!
Despite the low rating, I wholeheartedly recommend buying this album. In just a couple of years Yes would be playing completely different music… and they would never again release an album so naive, so bright, and so joyful.
Fragile [1971]
Rick Wakeman, known as the best session keyboardist in England, joined the band after The Yes Album, and immediately changed Yes's sound for the better. Not only is he a significantly more gifted performer than Tony Kaye, but he also knows how to handle a greater variety of "toys" — mellotron, harpsichord, and so on — which greatly diversified the band's sound.
Honestly, after hearing Fragile for the first time (in 1996) I simply hated the record, but over the following nine years it grew enormously in my estimation and is now one of my all-time favourite albums. This trait is generally characteristic of much great progressive music: it's hard to get into, but once you do, it's the beginning of a truly great love.
In addition to three "big" compositions, the album contains one short track (3:29) and five very short ones — each written by a different band member as a showcase of their artistry. Setting aside Bill Bruford, whose contribution resembles mostly noise, the Yes members handled the task with flying colours. Wakeman played a charming snippet of Brahms (Cans and Brahms); Steve Howe wrote a beautiful acoustic piece (Mood For A Day); Jon Anderson contributed the richly harmonised We Have Heaven; and Chris Squire offered The Fish (Schindleria Praematurus), which I personally consider the best track on the album.
The album opener Roundabout is notable for being simultaneously simple enough for a wide audience, heavy enough (thanks to Squire's bass) and unusual enough for prog rock fans. South Side Of The Sky features an absolutely gorgeous solo piano passage from Wakeman. And Heart Of The Sunrise — phenomenal bass lines, Howe's stunning guitar, Bruford's flawless drumming, and Jon Anderson shouting the words with passion — what more could one ask for?
An excellent record, one of Yes's best. I recommend it even if you don't like art rock and prog rock, but appreciate outstanding drumming and bass playing — at that point Yes had the best drummer and the best bassist in the world. I'm serious.
Close To The Edge [1972]
After Fragile, Yes were recognised as one of the leading prog rock bands. Unfortunately, by that point they still hadn't done what every self-respecting "progressive" group was expected to do — write a composition that would fill an entire side of a record. By 1972 ELP already had Tarkus, Genesis had Supper's Ready, King Crimson had Lizard, not to mention Jethro Tull with Thick As A Brick. Now do you understand why Yes simply had to do something?
And they did. Close To The Edge consists of just three tracks, one of which — the title piece — fills the entire first side of the record. This composition differs substantially from all the "long" songs written by other bands. Thick As A Brick, Tarkus, Supper's Ready — all consist of individual songs linked by instrumental transitions that create an illusion of wholeness. Yes chose to go in a completely different direction: they took the standard pop/rock structure, stretched it to 19 minutes, and using techniques borrowed from the classical world, developed the themes to the maximum.
In compositions like Close To The Edge, the highest quality of musical ideas is a sine qua non: who would listen to an uninteresting melody for ten to fifteen minutes? To Yes's credit, they handled the task brilliantly. Close To The Edge is, in my view, the pinnacle of their mastery as an ensemble. None of the Yes members dominates the others; the sounds of the instruments weave organically into a single musical tapestry.
Close To The Edge greets us with the sounds of nature: birds chirping, a river babbling nearby. The sounds of nature grow louder until Steve Howe enters with his guitar. After the intro comes the main theme — built on an ascending series of guitar riffs, supported by a structurally complex bass line. The vocal melody is devilishly unusual yet remarkably attractive.
Relayer [1974]
Tales From Topographic Oceans was a serious let-down compared to Close To The Edge. Everyone hated this album: critics, listeners, and even one band member — Rick Wakeman, who left Yes immediately after the 1973 world tour. Fortunately, Yes did some serious work on their mistakes and released Relayer — an album at least as good as Close To The Edge.
For Relayer, the well-known jazz-rock keyboardist Patrick Moraz was brought in to replace Rick Wakeman, and he had an immediate and very noticeable effect on the band's sound. Structurally, Relayer mirrors Close To The Edge: one large composition on the first side and two shorter ones on the second. If CTTE held the listener's attention through skilful development of musical themes, Relayer achieves its effect through a quasi-chaotic pile-up of sounds — probably the most "tumultuous" record in the history of rock music.
The Gates of Delirium is devoted to a massive battle, so the turbulence is more than justified. The main body divides into three sections — before the battle, the battle itself, and its aftermath. This is where Yes's ability to create large-scale sonic landscapes manifested itself in full glory. Here Yes employed for the first time an unusual device where one instrument picks up a musical phrase begun by another. It is magnificent!
So, what rating could I give an album of which the greater part is utterly flawless? Only 10 out of 10! If you haven't heard Relayer, you simply don't know what Yes were capable of in the seventies.
Going For The One [1977]
In the three years since Relayer, the musical world had changed, so Yes had to change too. I've always wondered: how did hardcore Yes fans react to Going For The One? Not being a Yes devotee myself, I nonetheless felt genuine bewilderment the first time I put on this record: from the speakers came… BOOGIE-WOOGIE! After a rousing intro, a real wall of sound descends on the listener: Chris Squire plays bass phenomenally, Alan White bashes the drums with gusto, Steve Howe interjects impeccable guitar solos, and Rick Wakeman — returning after a four-year absence — cranks up the heat with his synthesizers. The title track is utterly incredible.
Parallels is notable above all for featuring a church organ as the lead instrument. Rick Wakeman plays it in a completely inimitable rollicking style, and Howe's "metallic" guitar against this backdrop makes a lasting impression.
The ballads are also quite fine. Turn Of The Century might seem drawn out, but no one could deny its stately beauty. Wonderous Stories undoubtedly ranks among the band's best "pop" songs: a tender ballad with a bright melody and magnificent vocals.
The album closes with the fifteen-minute Awaken — my feelings are ambivalent: some passages are very, very good (the piano introduction, the majestic coda), while others leave me indifferent or irritated. On the whole decent, but it falls far short of Close To The Edge or The Gates of Delirium.
In summary, Going For The One is the last "classic" Yes album. It held the number one chart position for two weeks — and thoroughly deservedly. A solid 9.
Tormato [1978]
I'll be honest: I expected a great deal from Tormato, because Going For The One was the only Yes album that won me over on first listen. The Yes musicians, encouraged by the success of GFTE, decided to push the "commercialisation" and "simplification" of their music further. One of the main signs of this simplification is the number of compositions on the record (a full eight) and their running times (mostly 5–6 minutes each, with one song — Madrigal — lasting under three minutes).
(The cover depicts among other things a squashed tomato; the title is a hybrid of torment and tomato. Very symbolic, don't you think?)
What do we love Yes for? For their incomparable ability to create genuine musical landscapes. There is nothing remotely like that on Tormato. Rick Wakeman has clearly updated his arsenal, but these newfangled "tools" sound plastic and lifeless. Where is the mind-blowing energy that packs Fragile, Close To The Edge, Relayer and Going For The One to the brim? It has vanished without a trace!
To be fair, two songs I can call good or very good: the lovely acoustic ballad Madrigal, in which Rick Wakeman makes full use of the harpsichord, and Onward — Jon Anderson simply outdid himself.
Nevertheless, Tormato is still far, far better than Wind And Wuthering — released that same year — and certainly better than A. Trust me.
Drama [1980]
Shortly after Tormato came out, Rick Wakeman decided to leave the band again — this time accompanied by… Jon Anderson himself! I doubt that at that point anyone — except Chris Squire, Steve Howe and Alan White — could have imagined Yes without Jon Anderson. Any other band would have called it quits at that point, but not Yes.
In 1979 Geoff Downs and Trevor Horn filled the vacant keyboard and vocalist positions — and the fun began! Downs and Horn had previously been the band Buggles, which played New Wave.
That influence becomes obvious from the very first chords of Drama. Never before had Yes come so close to the line separating "high art" from "chewing gum for the masses." Sonically Drama resembles a typical late-seventies pop record. Yet the songs themselves are far more interestingly constructed and fulfil their primary function — entertaining the listener — far better than on Tormato!
The album opens with Machine Messiah, followed by White Car — the shortest and simultaneously the best (!) track on the album. The next three songs sound like adapted versions of The Police hits… except that Trevor Horn's vocals resemble not Sting but Jon Anderson. Progressive dance music — how do you like that? And finally, Tempus Fugit is a classic, one hundred percent "Yes-like" composition.
In summary: a decent album, though unlike anything the band had done before. The cover artwork is also very beautiful. 8 out of 10.