Review: Caravan - If I could do it all over again, I'd do it all over you

If I could do it all over again, I'd do it all over you
(Decca 1970)

1. If I could do it all over again, I'd do it all over you
2. And I wish I were stoned - Don't worry
3. As I feel I die
4. With an ear to the ground you can make it / Martinian / Only cox / Reprise
5. Hello Hello
6. Asforteri 25
7. Can't be long now / Françoise / For Richard / Warlock
8. Limits

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Now we're talking! Full frontal prog, with song lengths setting a standard that in 1970 was still to be assimilated by the prog community. Of course, song length is not a value in itself and if you can't justify it with good melodies and/or intriguing instrumental passages then it's just grating. Thankfully, Caravan at least partly succeeded in this respect from the very beginning although I feel that the closing suite consists too much of uninspired jamming and little actual songwriting, but up until then we're sorted.

The overall atmosphere is somewhat lighter than on the debut, despite the even more bombastic approach with all the multi-part suites because basically every song on here is built upon melodies lighter than a feather. Kinda reflective of the forest grove on the cover with all the 'foresty' organs and flutes abound. This atmosphere is especially present on "And I wish I were stoned", "As I feel I die" and "With an ear to the ground you can make it". Well, there's half the album already! However, it all begins with Caravan's already established brand of quirky pop in "If I could do it all over again, I'd make the title even longer", but I honestly don't think that it's very good. The looping melody with interweaving harmonies is inventive for sure, but I don't really care for the actual song.

But then we're going places, supposedly into that aforementioned forest. "And I wish I were stoned" is one of my favourite tracks on here, essentially just two oh-so-obvious pop ditties merged together with some tasteful organ-led passages and what is actually the first real guitar solo from Hastings. Then, still in the forest, we have "As I feel I die" beginning as a slow, almost unbearably quiet melody (that nonetheless rule) building up tension, only to suddenly shift gears and tipping its hat to their jazz-tinged legacy. Can't you imagine the elves skipping around in the morning sun finding its way down through the green foilage? Or yourself, for that matter.

But then we are ever so slightly running into trouble. The, once again, multi-part "With an ear to the ground" begins on a similarily quiet note, then gradually picks up steam but its first part (reprised at the end) doesn't really cut it. It gets better in the mid-section though, and as it slows down we are greeted with lush harmonies and a lovely flute solo so all in all it qualifies. "Hello hello" continues the line of the title track, although in a minor key this time and noticeably better. But then we have that closing suite which just seems to go nowhere. There are a few moments which approaches 'decent', like the reocurring organ theme that concludes the measures in the second part about four minutes in and onward, as well as after the sax/flute solos. I also like the part which follows, with that four-chord organ swirl adding at least some power to an otherwise lame exercise in pointless noodling. Why couldn't they make a proper song out of these neat little ideas instead of trying to one-up the... oh wait! This piece is actually breaking some new ground. Like I said, the side-long prog suites were still to be taken up by contemporaries like Genesis, King Crimson, Jethro Tull and Yes (who at the time hadn't even released "The Yes album" which even there didn't boast anything longer than ten minutes. "For Richard" is over fourteen).

So that somewhat ruins the experience since it takes up way too much of the overall running length. Too bad, since some of the other tracks manages to surpass the quality of the debut. Their best work was yet to come.

Review: Oasis - Definitely maybe

Definitely maybe
(Creation 1994)

1. Rock 'n' Roll Star
2. Shakermaker
3. Live Forever
4. Up in the Sky
5. Columbia
6. Supersonic
7. Bring It on Down
8. Cigarettes & Alcohol
9. Digsy's Dinner
10. Slide Away
11. Married with Children

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First of all, let's consider the times which were numbered '1994' and it's easy to see that it didn't take much to make a serious artistic statement. Grunge had all but eliminated the concept of fun (even if the sleaze previously had all but eliminated the concept of good taste) so basically the main musical paradigm was in ruins and it took britpop to revive some of the good old values. And 'revive' is the word here, mind you, because the one thing that Noel Gallagher brought to rock history was the humble concept of merely writing a good song and get together a decent band to perform it to the masses, and I'd say in that respect that was enough to make this album a relative winner (with a little help from his cocky little brother, of course).

It all starts off in a very apt way with "Rock'n roll star" in which Liam belts out his (or Noel's) dream of making it big, which is exactly what they did and in that very light you simply cannot put it down. An upbeat rocker which sounds as fresh as ever. The following "Shakermaker" however, seems to strive for old blues values and within the context as well as through the Gallagher treatment (i.e. loud and messy guitars) that only makes it tedious, and I'd say that "Cigarettes & alcohol" suffers for the exact same reasons, only this time they try to emulate blues-rock as differed from just blues. Stay clear, boys! Another waste of space is the Blur-ripoff "Columbia" whose only trace of distinctiveness lies in the three chords that keep repeating over the trip-hoppy beat throughout the whole song. What made them think that would be a good idea? "Tomorrow never knows" it is not, I tell you! Yet another stinker is the punkish "Bring it on down" (are they trying to rip off Zeppelin as well?) which doesn't even have a melody and the guitars are just a big undistinguishable mess without a single hint of actual power to them.

Okay, there goes the crap (apart from the opening track then) so let's aim the spotlight on the numbers that makes the album worth our while, shall we? The appropriately titled "Up in the sky" continues the line of "Rock'n roll star" in its cheerfulness, and it's maybe even better if only for Liam's outstanding performance. I just love that line where he glides into falsetto at the end of each verse line and even the guitars gets a chance to breathe in the relatively airy atmosphere of the song. Swell! Same goes for the Kinks-like "Digsy's dinner" in which even the lyrics seem to draw upon the everyday imagery of Ray Davies, even if the prolonged dinner invitation ends up more parodic rather than honoring, and once again they could have toned down the distortion to make it even more crisp, but hey, it's short and direct so I'm not really complaining. Nice touch of relative variety with the piano too. The closing acoustic "Married with children", nice at it is, seems oddly out of place in the otherwise guitar-rich context and it would possibly have worked out better somewhere in the middle as a nice breather in between all the onslaught.

But the real chef d'oeuvres are the three tracks scattered in the midst of it all. "Live forever" is an instant classic and possibly one of the best songs to ever have come out from Noel's pen. And it was a hit too, imagine that! The verse lines in all their simplicity are just marvellous and together with the crashing chorus they provide us with some prime example of how to write a simple yet classic pop song. Nothing groundbreaking whatsoever, just a killer melody, that's all! The somewhat more bombastic "Supersonic", also a hit single, is no worse; borrowing the chords from The Who's "I can see for miles" and the rythm from Hendrix's "Purple haze" and leading into the magnificent chorus as self-evident as anything, it's another deserved classic. Even more bombastic is "Slide away" which may as well be the absolute highlight on the album as well as a could-have-been-great way to end it all, had it not been for that acoustic ditty afterwards. It milks the "Supersonic" vibe even further, although in a much more melancholic mode and Liam really gives it all with a desperate intonation that almost makes you feel that he for once knows what he's singing about, and sincerely at that.

So with the formula firmly in place from the getgo, this probably remains their best piece of work ever and with such a limited scope of talent within the band it couldn't help but going downward from here, even if the successor sure had its share of winners too. And like I already mentioned, the overall soundscape is next to unbearable if you're not able to oversee the monotonous guitar assault and lack of arrangement, although this is as good as they would ever get in that department, at least until the more recent releases when they finally began to grasp the subtle art of studio trickery. But until then, a little songwriting and youthful enthusiasm will do.

Tonight I'm a rock'n roll star: Oasis reviewed

Whatever...

Introduction

...or the band that saved rock'n roll in the doldrums of the grungefied 90's. Oh no, let's not get carried away here! Rock'n roll wasn't saved, if only for the fact that it didn't want to get saved, and as innovators they were simply good for nothing. But then again it's my firm belief that nothing essential has happened in music at all during the last 20 years, and I doubt that it ever will. The thing is though, like it or not, that Oasis was indeed a quintessential band, both as a timestamp for the britpop era and as a personal initiation to contemporary music, being the first up-to-date band I cut my teeth on as an musically aspiring teenager (well past the initiation to Beatles). Thus, I can't help but having an almost uniquely ambivalent stance on them; On one hand I definitely acknowledge all of their shortcomings as a band, not least the Gallagher brothers' perpetual-but-failed ambition to one-up the Beatles, but on the other hand they did teach me to play guitar (figuratively speaking, of course) as well as the importance of being a fanboy (ironically speaking, of course).

This however, has led to a heavy tilt toward the first half of their catalogue in terms of impression, since I all but totally lost interest in them toward the turn of the century, only to ever so slightly re-acquaint their works in recent years. That means that however objectively I try to dissect their first three albums, I cannot escape the soft spot I still retain for all of them since they were integral parts of my teenhood. It also means that however much I try to integrate the latter part of their discography into my all-encompassing knowledge about them, these later albums will all the while remain relatively distant in my mind. Not that it should matter that much though, since their commercial peak indeed lasted during the second half of the 90's and to this day whenever anyone is asked about his/her knowledge about them, I bet you ten to one that the answer will be "Wonderwall".

That's not to say that their latter records should be dismissed or anything. On the contrary, at least one of them is at least as worthy as their holy duality from the mid-90's, and their two latest albums are definitely way above their relative artistic blunder "Be here now". I will tell you this though: Oasis are but the sum of exactly two components, i.e. the raspy voice of Liam and the derivative but ultimately successful songwriting of Noel, and I dare say that everything else about the band, including Noel's guitar playing, is more or less completely dispensable. Therefore I claim that all of their output should be judged by these things and these things alone, although I'm not gonna hold that against them or anything; there are a lot worse examples of successful bands during the last 20 years that cannot even boast that. And even Noel himself apparently didn't think that much of his bandmates, virtually single-handedly taking it upon himself to provide the band with freshly written material (or even more accurately; providing himself with a backing band in order to perform his freshly written material).

Now, with the virtue of hindsight, I still reckon him a worthy songwriter as well as Liam being the quintessence of a snotty-nosed indiepop-gone-huge singer (along with Damon Albarn, although the latter sounded more adequate in his sarcastic tone). The problem with him and Oasis as a whole, is that they didn't know shit about arrangements, and neither did their producer or anyone even remotely involved with the production process. I suppose some of you know the infamous story of how "(What's the story) Morning glory" heralded the way of the so-called 'loudness war', with a brickwall production where the sound peaked at every possible point it should and shouldn't peak, leaving no room for dynamics and aural rest. Maybe it's a product of the times, but fact is that most of their albums are horribly produced and it's clearer than ever now that if not for the actual songwriting and the profilic vocal delivery, they would remain close to unlistenable. That, along with their aforementioned inability to arrange the songs in an intriguing manner, can make even the best of their albums a tiresome listen. Most of the songs are stitched together in the simplest possible way, starting with a predictable verse-chorus-verse-chorus pattern and ending with an endless rehashing of the core stanza, something which was taken to its abominable peak on "Be here now" on which every next song is twice as long as it should be.

So with all this in mind, everything Oasis is all about is suspended in the songs themselves and the main judgement of them, positive or negative, are therefore based on the quality of the melodies. As luck would have it, there are a lot of them and curiously enough, Noel was quite a productive songwriter, yielding a lot of tracks that didn't even end up on the regular albums but rather on B-sides, some of which surfaced on the "Masterplan" collection. And some of the 'lesser' album tracks themselves are well worth your attention, all contributing to the album as a unit rather than just being filler padding out the spaces between the hit songs, something which in turn separates the novelty acts from the big names in the business. And say what you will, Oasis is one of them.

Review: Emerson, Lake & Palmer - s/t

Emerson, Lake & Palmer
(Island, Manticore 1970)


1. The Barbarian
2. Take A Pebble
3. Knife-Edge
4. The Three Fates
- Clotho (Royal Festival Hall Organ)
- Lachesis (Piano Solo)
- Atropos (Piano Trio)
5. Tank
6. Lucky Man

---

If you're aspiring to get into these guys, I would strongly advice you to do so from the very beginning with the recording of their 1970 performance on the Isle of Wight Festival (released in 1997) in order to truly acknowledge just how big, bold, brash and professional they were from the very start. Now, since I've made it a personal rule not to review any live albums, I won't include it here but I may as well give away that it consists of half their debut, a full performance of "Pictures at an exhibition" and a killer version of "Rondo", inherited from The Nice. And it is important to take this performance in account because apart from a warmup gig somewhere, it's their first concert ever (or as the announcer puts it: "their very first debut performance", just as not to understate the fact) which speaks volumes about their braveness. Of course, they were already seasoned musicians but as a unity to throw themselves out in the air with no safety net and into their already fully charged set with such stamina as they did, and at a legendary music festival at that, is something whose equivalence I am yet to see in the music business. I'd go as far as saying that if anything, that very performance effectively landmarked the 70's and you-will-have-to-get-that-album-at-all-costs in order to grasp what these guys were all about! (The cannons have to be seen to be fully appreciated though).

Now, let's talk about this here album. As I said, half of it is to be found on the Isle of Wight setlist, more precisely the first half. It greets you with a swooping fuzzed-out-of-hell bassline and a dissonant organ swirling all around in "The barbarian", heralding the way of something that instantly lets you know that this is gonna be otherworldly. Essentially it's a reworked piece originally penned by Béla Bartók but I don't have much to say about that since I haven't heard the original. This here workout rules though and it was used as a concert opener during the beginning of their career. Past the gruelling intro it transforms into a jolly piano piece that vaguely resembles the aforementioned "Rondo", before finally crashing down where it once begun. Swell! Another hard-hitting track is "Knife edge", once again partly based upon some works of Bach and Leoš Janácek but it's the surprisingly heavy verse parts that makes this one a tour de force, with a dead simple, almost Uriah Heep-ish in nature, descending riff upon which Lake weaves his powerful voice. Of course, classical purists will probably wrinkle their nose at this supposed slaughter of classical stuff, but what business do those people have in rock music anyway? I mean, apart from telling you that Beatles aren't as profound as Tchaikovsky?

"The three fates" continues the classical excursion of Emerson, although this time he thought it up himself with the first part being all church organ, the second part being all piano and the third part a jazzy bolero-like shuffle on several pianos. It only goes to show just how skilled this dude is but as listenable music pieces it's not that much to write home about. The same goes for "Tank" in which Palmer at least proves himself worthy of a drum solo spot in contrast to John Bonham (or even worse, Bill Ward) and the surrounding parts ain't half-bad either as Emerson spices things up with a clavinet on ultra-speed. And of course we have the all-time favourite "Lucky man" (no, not that Verve crap, you trendy nit-wit!) that Lake allegedly penned when he was only 12 years old. That's as may be, but it's a nice acoustic breather after all the instrumental onslaught which it winds up.

However, the real highlight is his other contribution "Take a pebble" which is only a mellotron away from being a bona-fide King Crimson track, only Crimson would ruin it with oceans of unlistenable drivel and name it "Moonchild". On here though, it's treated with multiple instrumental passages in between the grand and gorgeous verses on courtesy of Lake continuing the equally grand tradition of "Epitaph". Apart from that, they manage to squeeze in a fast and dexterious jazz-style interpretation of the verse melody on piano, a light-hearted acoustic country-ish shuffle to lighten things up and a fugue-like piano passage on which the whole band joins in to conclude it all before the final verse kicks in as if to remind you where we were. I tell ya, this track alone makes the album an essential listen and it remained a concert favourite for years to come.

All in all, an essential listen albeit slightly raw and it can't help but leave you with a feeling of underarrangement as a unity. That's not too surprising since it's A) their first and B) mainly built upon their live setting where instrumental show-offs were more essential than actual songcraft. The lengthy piano passages may scare away many an aspiring fan, and to be frank, I myself am not that keen on those parts either. The collective efforts on the other hand, make it well worth the money, especially on the first half of the record. You just have to look past the song-by-song presumption and digest it as a unity consisting of parts rather than actual songs. Or skip it for the time being and proceed to "Tarkus" or "Trilogy".

Led Zeppelin III
(Atlantic 1970)

1. Immigrant Song
2. Friends
3. Celebration Day
4. Since I've Been Loving You
5. Out on the Tiles
6. Gallows Pole
7. Tangerine
8. That's the Way
9. Bron-Y-Aur Stomp
10. Hats Off to (Roy) Harper

---

So, what do you want me to say about this album? That it's the first unplugged metal album, heralding the way for Nirvana some 20 years before the word 'unplugged' even was invented and that it let the beer-drinking crowd down in its lack of electric onslaught at the time of release? Blah blah blah, you know the drill; the Zepsters took off to the countryside and wrote an album's worth of acoustic folk ditties in order to express their artistic independence and came out with something that over time has been regarded as quite a controversial move. Well, as is the case with tenacious rock myths, that's only partly true; first of all, it wasn't very controversial at all, because they had always had that folk heritage in them, as present on songs like "Black mountain side", "Babe, I'm gonna leave you" and "Ramble on" so it was only natural to expand on that formula. Besides, this album has its share of crunching heavy rock as well, some of it among the heaviest they ever did, so screw the generalizations!

When I think of it, "III" actually contains what I consider to be their highest percentage of good songs yet, interspersed with only a handful of relative letdowns, and the acoustic approach manages to bring forth some of the prettiest melodies ever to have passed through any mixer table under Page's supervision. "That's the way" and "Tangerine", the two mellow ballads, are simply gorgeous and especially the former manages to conjure up images of laid back summer evenings in a setting of lush foilage. That resort to the Bron-Y-Aur cottage wasn't such a bad idea, after all. The song it gave name to, "Bron-Y-Aur stomp", is just a lot of fun, once again perfectly matching the cheerful lyrics about such earthbound subjects as countryside walks. The arrangement of "Gallows pole" is in the same vein, featuring celtic overtones and some rednecky banjos toward the end, and then there's the mantraic "Friends" with drones of violins drawing upon arabic influences, making it sound very plaintive. All of these tracks set a certain 'foresty' mood which I can't help but digging, especially on a summer's day when rain hangs in the air, and as far as acoustic folk shuffles go, they would never surpass this batch of songs ever again. Oh, and to get it over with, "Hats off to (Roy) Harper" is just a piece of tuneless, ear-piercing crap and I don't care if it's supposed to sound like 'authentic delta blues'; this ain't no Mississippi delta in the 1920's, it's countryside Britain 1970 damnit! But it's tacked right onto the end, so it doesn't really spoil the picture.

But even with all this, there's still the metallic side left, and it doesn't disappoint. "Immigrant song" slaps you right in the face with chasmic wailings from Plant over an instantly recognizable rythmic octave riff, fully compatible with the norse imagery it displays during its mere two minutes. The somewhat similar "Celebration day" and "Out on the tiles" work just fine as album tracks, both sporting surprisingly uplifting choruses, but the real treat comes with their finest take on the classic blues ever; "Since I've been loving you". That one is simply breathtaking on every count, and they obviously took good care of the chord structure as well as the stunning build-up of tension throughout. The guitar solos are top-notch, Plant is fully adequate in his roaring and the organ adds that final touch that makes it one of their absolute masterpieces. This is heavy blues-rock taken to its absolute height, I tell ya!

Now that I've seen it written before me, I can honestly say that apart from that Roy Harper disgrace, this album contains no low point at all even if the overall atmosphere is quite laid-back (despite outbursts like "Immigration song" and "Since I've been loving you") and most of the tracks ranging from mediocre to just good. But like I already mentioned, it's the overall mood that really captures me this time, and that reminds me what really attracted me about Led Zep once upon a time, and still attracts me for that matter: The songwriting may be so-so, but as mood setters they simply can't be beat.

Aaaa-aaa-aaah, aaa-aaa-aaah, AAA-AAA-AAAH!!!

Introduction

If there ever was a band that embodied the word 'inconsistency', then it has to be Deep Purple. Over their career, spanning over 40 years to date, they are responsible for both some of the greatest and worst yields in the metal field, as well as probably the biggest resumé of involved members. Now, I'm not gonna pretend that I'm above the common notion that it is the mark II lineup that came together at first in 1969 (and lasted a whole 4 years) that is the most revered and arguably the best, but that doesn't mean that they weren't worthy at any other point in their career even if taken together, they have sucked more than they have not over the years. I mean, Ritchie Blackmore may have been a total asshole but he was a guitar genius, although his judgement of musical partners has been questionable. Yes, he did cooperate with Ian Gillan and Ronnie James Dio (in Rainbow though), but he also took morons like David Coverdale, Glenn Hughes and Joe Lynn Turner under his wings which has severely affected his own total to his disadvantage, and don't get me started on that medieval crap he's been indulged in for the last 15 years. Oh well, he's a man of integrity and I guess we'll have to respect him for that. And by all means, he is right about Gillan not being able to sing anymore.

But Purple isn't just Blackmore; when at their absolute peak they were an unstoppable machine of five prime units and I dare say that onstage they blew all competition away, including Who and Zeppelin, because if anything, they cared for professionalism. Up until the breakup of mkII in 1973, they all were virtuosos on their respective instrument, especially Blackmore, Jon Lord and Ian Paice, and they put it to good use in their special brand of early heavy metal-with-an-organ-in-it. The organ meant that they had two lead instruments on full frontal display when needed and Lord, classically trained as he was, added that extra touch of baroque modality in his ultra-fast runs that their contemporaries simply lacked. (And no, Uriah Heep could never hope to reach up to their level despite the organ, not that they ever tried though). And for one other thing, they also provided speed; they could play faster than just about anyone, which they did, albeit never in absurdum (and thusly, they invented speed and power metal which is a minus, but as always, great bands are often bad influences). Look no further than "Speed king" (indeed!), "Fireball" and "Flight of the rat" for proof, not to mention the lengthy live rendition of "Space truckin'". Where Jimmy Page would occasionally jam his fingers during fast runs, Blackmore would fire off his arpeggios as fluently as ever. And on top of that (or under, whichever you prefer) Ian Paice would relentlessly drive the whole thing forward with an ingenious accuracy and a feel for swing rarely matched in the heavy rock scene ever since. An yeah, Gillan and Roger Glover did their thing as well.

But good things rarely last long; further into the 70's disaster struck as the mkII lineup split up and the mkIII took over, thusly bringing David Coverdale and Glenn Hughes onto the scene. Purple turned into a bland funk outfit releasing some of the most obnoxious music they ever made, and I've got all the reason to believe that noone is to blame for that but that fake buffoon Hughes, trying to pass himself on as Stevie Wonder's half-brother or something. I hate him and that's that. Coverdale may be but a vain son-of-a-whore, but back then he was mainly an insecure and easily affectable rascal trying to fit in, and I dare say that some of the early Whitesnake stuff is quite decent as well (at least compared to the mid-70's Purple). After recruiting Blackmore's replacement Tommy Bolin, realizing he couldn't play worth a damn and firing him wherupon he overdosed and died, Purple called it a day in 1976. In 1984 the mkII members decided it was time for reuniting for a couple of records before breaking down again, whereupon they hired the fruitcakeish Joe Lynn Turner, broke up, reunited mkII-point-three, fought backstage, got rid of Blackmore (or vice versa), not realising Gillan had lost his voice, hired the redneckish Steve Morse, got rid of Lord (or vice versa), still not realising Gillan had lost his voice, hired Rainbow graduate Don Airey and what they're doing right now I haven't got the slightest clue. Well, whatever keeps them off the streets, I guess. At least, Paice has got an excuse for touring music shops around the world with his drum clinics.

So as you can see, there has been a whole lot going on in the Purple camp over the years, and for most of the time nothing good has come out of it. But most of the stuff they did up until 1972 more than weighs up for whatever they did thereafter, and I do mean some of the mkI output as well, especially their eponymous third album. And whatever may be, "Deep Purple in rock" is and will always be one of my top metal albums of all time, and that alone really accounts for something.

Seasons will pass you by: Yes reviewed

Call it morning driving through the sound and in and out the valley

Introduction

Yes, oh yes! I suppose you all know the band that had a hit with "Owner of a lonely fart" and thus helped write the 80's into the history books as the most obnoxious period in modern history. I also suppose that you know that before all that, they epitomized the infamous progressive rock movement with ridiculously sprawling and overblown epics, lasting for eternities and thus could make even the most good-natured pop-loving (or headbangning) soul throw beer bottles at whoever had the nerve of queuing snorefests like "Close to the edge" at the party. Now, I'm not gonna play the fool and pretend that they're not among my all-time favourite bands, up there with Beatles, Who and Zeppelin, because they are, and I'm not apologizing for it one bit! That in turn, however, doesn't mean that I don't spot their flaws, potential as well as actual. First of all, they ruined the 80's (or the 80's ruined them, but most accurately it was Trevor Rabin that ruined them both) with the aforementioned piece of crap that to this day seem to be one of the few artefacts that remain in people's conciousness. But that's not really surprising since, as any good prog band of the 70's, they fell victim of the times and just had to reset their course in order to survive the acid test of punk and new wave, so they cannot really be held responsible for that. The asshole guitarist Trevor Rabin can though, since the relative success of Asia, in which their former axeman Steve Howe resided at the time, cannot be explained lest one takes a little time to scorn that Rabin dude for capitalizing on the musical values of the 80's.

Enough about the 80's though, it's for the glory days of topographic oceans Yes should be remembered, and through the course of 1971-77 they released some of the finest prog rock ever created by five disorganized hippies that hardly could even remember what they had been playing an hour ago. They may have been formulaic in that they constantly strived for making even longer, even more complicated songs, awash in rapid-fire guitar lines on courtesy of Steve Howe, soaring mellotrons and intergalactic synthesizers on courtesy of Rick Wakeman, otherworldly bass riffs on courtesy of Chris Squire, incomprehensible but angelic vocals of Jon Anderson and swirling vocal harmonies on courtesy of them all. Oh, and Bill Bruford and Alan White on drums, they're alright too. See, their lineup changed almost constantly, sort of stabilizing itself around the quartet of Anderson, Howe, Squire and Wakeman and a shift between the two mentioned drummers around 1973. But they took that formula as far as it could possibly go (before thousands of crappy neo-prog acts started to abuse it to death from the 90's onward) while still fresh and exciting. The one thing I believe is their main schtick that made them unique is their ability to drag you through various musical landscapes, partly accompanied by the marvellous cover artworks of Roger Dean (who also designed their famous logotype) as well as the imaginative lyrics, and end the whole journey in a sheer climax absolutely overflowing with emotion. When they were at the top of their game, this is what they did best.

Now, I can easily understand why people don't like them, even disregarding the fact that they made looooong songs, which is an argument I simply don't buy as the same people don't seem to have any problems with live Zeppelin (in whose extented songs there is but a tenth as much going on as in any given Yes epic), Pink Floyd (in which there is but a tenth as much going on in even some of the normal-length songs, not least overrated crap like "Comfortably numb") or even your average modern-day stoner behemoth (in which there isn't anything going on at all). No, the problem may as well be that Yes were indeed dead serious about what they were doing. Just about any of the other major prog acts of the era, be it Genesis, ELP or Jethro Tull, all had that humorous side to them which shined through on their albums musically and/or lyrically. Yes meant business and you just have to dig in to their dedicated face-value sincerity or you won't have a chance of 'getting' them. Furthermore, they took good care of fucking up their often very pretty melodies with sudden shifts in tempo, harmony, arrangement, structure, whatever, and thus rendering them quite inaccessible for the average listener. Once again you'll have to dig in to the general approach of prog rock in which you're supposed to tweak the traditional values, and either you 'get' that very approach and enjoy the fact that they pulled all the stops to expand the horizons of what could be done with a seemingly simple melodic stanza given enough imagination, or you don't get it in which case you might as well stick to your "Dark side of the moon" and continue to play the part of the artful stoner.

Well, as for the seriousness, I'd say: The Who cares? If I want a laugh I'll go and listen to Ween (or "Harold the Barrel"), and I don't see how it could ever be held against them that they actually mean what they play (even if the stream-of-conciousness lyrics of Jon Anderson may be seen as ridiculous, but I don't have to share his vision to the bone in order to appreciate it). And the fucking-up-of-the-melodies is just their thing, and I for one think that it's nice to have something to chew on that can grow upon you over time instead of having an onslaught of hookey hooks that wear off upon the tenth listen. In fact, the 'inaccessible' passages help to balance out the more direct ones, and often make the latter even more emotional and climactic in their beauty (case in point: The "Soon" part of "Gates of delirium") where more simple-minded art bands like Pink Floyd just threshed on in the same pentatonic key throughout their epics. What I'm trying to say is that Yes takes some time to get used to, but in the end, if the stars are aligned, you will eventually be rewarded with some of the most fantastiwastic art rock ever magnetized on tape. Sort of a high-stake stock share.

Like I said, they were as bad in the 80's as they were good in the 70's, but I wouldn't really blow my horn for their most recent 20 years either even if one has to give them props for not only reuniting but actually continuing making new music which thusly affirms their place in the same league as Rolling Stones and the Genesis-less Peter Gabriel. On the other hand it's not that exciting, since what they're actually doing is more or less the same thing that all those neo-prog bands are doing, albeit somewhat more justified since Yes were among the originators after all. Their most recent move is questionable though, as Jon Anderson has decided to indulge in some kind of solo performance venture and the other guys hired a dude they found on YouTube to stand in for him. Well, at least it means that they're still alive and kickin' and might as well stop by a town near you for an aural treat, even if it means that you'll have to endure the sight of an ageing Steve Howe, looking as hideous today as he looked cool in the 70's.