God Speed Chris Squire

Recently, Yes fans learned that Chris Squire, co-founder of the most influential progressive rock band ever, has a rare form of leukemia.  This is sobering news indeed and a reminder that brilliant, timeless and heavenly music is created by fragile and mortal creatures.

For about forty-seven years, Chris has been the only constant in the band’s ever changing line-up.  If Jon Anderson is the voice of Yes, then surely Squire has been its torch bearer.

It’s a shame that group’s two founding members find themselves estranged.  Both have endured serious health issues, but undoubtedly past business matters and personal friction have created a rift that extends into the fan base as well.  Yet, both Chris’s version of Yes and Jon’s solo career have created positive, upbeat and rewarding music.

What made Yes’ best music work was a peculiar mix of incongruous elements.  Squire’s down-to-earth personality and pop-sensibility complemented Anderson’s ethereal and cryptic tendencies.  Jon could soar so high, both vocally and in terms of musical ambitions, in no small measure because Chris anchored everything with his rock-solid but innately melodic bass.

It’s hard to contemplate Yes without Chris Squire.  I appreciate his friend, Billy Sherwood, stepping in Chris’s large boots to keep the flame alight.  God speed Chris, we are all hoping for a full recovery and the day when your thunderous bass will roar again. 

Yes -- "Heaven & Earth" Reviewed. "Is it the end of Yes?

Yes, like the London Symphony Orchestra, is an institution with a revolving line-up.  Nevertheless, some members, notably Jon Anderson, have made such an indelible impression that is hard to think of Yes as existing without him.   No matter the strengths of “Fly From Here,” or “Drama” for that matter, the absence of Anderson hovers over any project involving the remaining elements of Yes.  Put simply, his voice, lyrical approach, and artistic vision elevated Yes’ best music to a level no other configuration of the band has come close to matching.

“Heaven & Earth” is the second album in row from the band going by the name of “Yes,” which doesn’t feature the inimitable Anderson.   Squire & company’s decision to head in a decidedly popish direction isn’t likely to endear the album with a certain segment of die-hard fans, who understandably long for something grand, ambitious, and genuinely aesthetic.  Nevertheless, “Heaven & Earth” is an album suffused with the signature Yes sound, many inspiring moments, and some outstanding instrumental passages.  True, some of the tunes have a simplistic sing-song quality, but I find the music consistently veers off in interesting directions.  “In a World of Our Own” is Beatleseque, Howe’s upbeat “It Was All We Know” seems reminiscent of the band America, and the intro to “Subway Walls” has a faux-classical sound one might expect from ELO.  This is music that feels familiar, not challenging, but the music often defies expectations too.

“Subway Walls” is probably the most progressive track on the album.  The tune features a slowly-smoldering keyboard solo from Geoff, which leads into a haunting guitar passage from Howe.   The pace seems deliberately low-key, compared to previous Yes outbursts.  But it is effective nevertheless.  The same can be said for the album as a whole.  “Heaven & Earth” is pop sprinkled with progressive touches.  Yes-light, perhaps, but “Heaven & Earth” is hardly the end of the world – or Yes, for that matter – that some musical prophets have proclaimed.

Yes - "Believe Again" Reviewed

Yes is like the mythological ship of Theseus, which is replaced plank by plank, but seemingly remains the same vessel.  Today, Yes fans are divided over the question whether Yes remains Yes without the visionary lyricist and vocalist, the inimitable Jon Anderson.

If an Platonic realm exists, then surely Jon Anderson, Chris Squire, Rick Wakeman, Steve Howe, and Bill Bruford, the quintet that created the band’s two most seminal works -- “Fragile” and “Close to the Edge”  --  constitute the eternal essence of Yesness.  But wait, doesn’t that leave out drummer Alan White, who has been a fixture in the band for more than forty years?  After all, White belongs in elite company too (and his contribution to “Relayer,” “Going for the One,” and “Tales from Topographic Oceans” is arguably just as important to Yes’ legacy as his predecessor Bill Bruford’s was).
 

The ship of Theseus remains an unsettled paradox.  And so the situation remains with Yes.  None of Anderson’s replacements have met – yet alone exceeded – the artistic standards he set.  Nevertheless, the “Drama” album is musically cohesive and rewarding and Trevor Horn does a decent job on vocals.  Likewise, “Fly From Here” lacks the gravitas of Yes’ best work, but the band sounds fresh, inspired, and full of life.  Moreover, and the album has a thematic unity not seen since Yes’ heyday in the 70’s.  Oh yeah, the much maligned Benoit David does a fine job singing on a record that happens to be one of Yes’ best efforts in decades.

Jon Davison is the latest plank in the Yes ship.  He has deservedly earned kudos for faithfully, capably, and reliably recreating Yes’ best works live on stage.  Now, Yes is set to release its first new album with Davison at the vocal helm.  “Believe Again” is the first taste of the new music and direction the band is charting.  It is a pleasant, uplifting, and accessible song with occasional flashes of inspiration.  There’s a beautiful intro, a nifty musical interlude, and some nice textural keyboard work from Geoff Downes, who sounds like he’s channeling Rick Wakeman.   Davison makes a strong vocal entry and sounds great paired up with Chris Squire.  But the structure, vision, and edge Anderson provided Yes’ best music is missing.  As a result, “Believe Again” meanders and Yes end up sounding like a more accomplished version of REO Speedwagon.  Still, I find the song growing on me and I find it more productive to enjoy the song than engage in futile debates about which line-up is the “real” Yes.  Yes, Jon Anderson was the best vocalist Yes ever had and probably ever will have.  But Yes is like a snake that sheds its skin so as to renew itself. 

Free e-book: Yes and Philosophy -- Available Aug 3rd 2013

To help celebrate Yestival on August 3rd 2013 I will be offering all Yes fans a free copy of my e-book "Yes and Philosophy."  To get your free copy you can visit the Amazon website and download the book at no charge on Sat Aug 3rd.  I would ask anyone who enjoys the book to please consider writing a review for the Amazon site.   Thank you, and I hope you enjoy the book.

To see a sample essay please scroll below to "Roundabout: Metaphysics Set to Music."

Link to  book at Amazon (US): Yes and Philosophy

P.S:  Heck, while I'm at it I'm going to make my e-book Socrates in Cyberspace available for free August 3rd.  If you are interested in philosophy of mind then you may want to check it out.  Again, if you enjoy the book I hope you'll consider writing a review for Amazon. 

Roundabout: Metaphysics Set to Music

Forty years ago, the song Roundabout, hit the radio airwaves like a hurricane.  Most rock fans had never heard anything like it before.  Guitarist Steve Howe’s melancholic guitar intro sounded like something Segovia might play, but the classical style prologue was just the beginning of music that seemed space-age and baroque all at the same time. 

Roundabout, however, really blasted off with the introduction of Chris Squire’s phase-delayed bass, a mesmerizing riff that seemed to double back upon itself, like a snake eating its own tail.  Squire played the bass, a traditional back-up instrument, as if it was a lead instrument.  But this was hardly the only element that made the music in Roundabout stand out.  Drummer Bill Bruford’s exotic style owed more to jazz than rock and his percussion was multi-layered by engineer extraordinaire Eddie Offord to hypnotic effect.  And then there was the classically-trained Rick Wakeman contributing florid keyboard runs on a newfangled instrument known as the synthesizer.  Topping everything off was vocalist Jon Anderson, an alto-tenor who often sounded more like a choirboy than a traditional rock singer.  Anderson’s cryptic lyrics and otherworldly vocals imbued Roundabout with a mystic dimension.  Roundabout was the first taste most listeners had of the British progressive rock group known as Yes.

Roundabout raised the bar in rock music.  The musicians that composed Yes were regarded by fans and critics as virtuosos, the highest quality instrumentalists the rock genre had produced at the time.  Roundabout was infused with classical elements, but the song really rocked.  Yes it seemed, were pioneers of a new movement known as progressive rock.  With albums like Fragile, Close to the Edge, and Tales from Topographic Oceans, Yes were among the earliest and most successful groups to use rock instruments to create works of an orchestral length and style.

The visionary head of Atlantic records, the late Amhet Ertegun, once described Yes as a group that painted pictures with sounds.  This is a wonderfully paradoxical notion, but one that captures the mysterious ability of music to conjure up imagery and tap into the imagination.   Classical composers have long harnessed the power of music to represent natural phenomenon and emotional states, but until Yes few rock groups had a rich enough instrumental palette to conjure up such vivid and complex soundscapes.
 

Yes music is pitched to the auditory and visual imagination, but it is also capable of tapping into the abstract and/or philosophical imagination.  Schopenhauer once wrote that “Music is an unconscious exercise in metaphysics, in which the mind does not know it is philosophizing.”  This is a rather astounding thought.  Schopenhauer believed that music was the most authentic and immediate manifestation of the Will, the primal life-force that underlies our phenomenal reality.   In other words, Schopenhauer believed that it is through music that the conscious subject can encounter the mysterious and fundamental energies that underlie all existence.  No wonder Schopenhauer’s spiritual student, Nietzsche, claimed that life would be a mistake without music.

Roundabout is music that has the potential to plug listeners into a cosmic and philosophical state of mind.  It is music rich and enigmatic enough to reward repeated listening and serious analysis.  What exactly is a roundabout?  Anderson claims the lyrics were inspired by a traffic roundabout he encountered on the way to the recording studio, but a literal interpretation of such an evocative and imagistic song need not steer us in such a pedestrian direction, if you’ll forgive the pun.

The novelist Umberto Eco once identified what he called the “poetic effect,” which refers to a quality in texts and works of art that allow them to continue “to generate different readings, without ever being completely consumed.”  The lyrics and music of Roundabout exemplify the poetic effect.

In my view, there is a lot going on in the song to suggest that the term “roundabout” refers to a cosmic process symbolized by the mythical Uroboros, the snake that consumes its own tail.  The Uroboros, of course, is one of the most potent images in the mythic imagination.  Artwork and jewelry depicting the Uroboros date to earliest antiquity.  Descriptions of the Uroboros appear in the Egyptian Book of the Dead, Plato’s philosophy, and in the Hindu Upanishads.  The Uroboros was a frequently used motif in alchemy; the Swiss psychologist Carl Jung believed the Uroboros symbolically represented the psyche; and the chemist Kekule dreamt of a snake eating its own tail shortly before discovering that the structure of the benzene molecule resembled the Uroboros!  In short, the Uroboros is one of the most fundamental and far-reaching image/ideas in the history of humankind.

Yes fans, of course, are familiar with the Uroboros motif.  To begin with, artist Roger Dean’s famous Yes logo implicitly feeds into itself just as the mythical Uroboros does.  You can see this most explicitly with Dean’s Yes logo on the inner booklet of their latest album, Fly From Here, where the Yes logo is depicted as a snake twisting back upon itself.  But the motif actually crops up a lot in Yes’ work.  For instance, as philosopher Bill Martin notes in his  “Music of Yes: Structure and Vision in Progressive Rock,” Chris Squire’s phase-delayed bass in Roundabout seems to double back on itself, like a snake eating it own tail.  Furthermore, Roundabout is a song that explicitly comes full circle: the ending recapitulates the same acoustic guitar motif that song began with.

What is the philosophical significance of the Uroboros motif?  To begin with, The Uroboros motif seems to represent a central truth about the cosmos:  namely, that life feeds off itself.  The Uroboros devours itself, but in doing so it nourishes itself.  The Uroboros slays itself, but it is reborn in the process.  All mortal beings perish, but their lives feed the process of life.  The wheel of life spins eternally.  Yes actually explored this theme in an early song called Survival, but motif is developed with much greater poetic sophistication in Roundabout.

There is an even deeper way of looking at the Uroboros motif.  Scientists tell us that our Universe began with the Big Bang.  Prior to the Big Bang, time and space presumably did not yet exist.  There was only nothingness.  How can something (the universe) come out of nothingness?  The ancient Greeks believed nothing could come out of nothing.  The idea that the universe arose out of nothingness sounds like a paradox, if not a contradiction, but perhaps we can resolve this paradox by thinking in terms of no-thing-ness (i.e., no things).  At the Big Bang, all that existed was what scientists have called a quantum singularity.  Out of this uniform and entirely undifferentiated state (no-thing-ness) the entire cosmos was born.

Following the Big Bang, matter was formed.  As the universe cooled, sub-atomic particles began to form molecules.  Later, molecules arranged themselves into inorganic compounds.  Still later, simple self-replicating organisms such as bacteria emerged.  After this, single-celled organisms came onto the scene.  Soon, multi-cellular organism evolved.  Today, a highly complex multi-celled organism known as homo sapiens is able to trace the evolutionary path of a universe that has given birth to self-aware creatures capable of investigating their own evolutionary path and origins.  In other words, the path from the Big Bang to consciousness investigating the Big Bang is very much like the snake that twists back to bite its own tail.  As Anderson sings: 

I’ll be the Roundabout

The words will make you out and out.

The Princeton physicist John Wheeler would have appreciated this point of view.  Wheeler advocated something called the Anthropic Principle.  In its strongest from, the Anthropic Principle holds that sentient creatures are necessary for the universe to fully exist.  After all, as Wheeler puts it, “what good would the universe be if no one existed to observer it?  Wheeler’s outlook is shaped by the strange implications of quantum mechanics; particularly the notion that subatomic “particles” can exist in an indefinite state, until they are observed.  In other words, consciousness may be necessary to collapse the wave function of quantum level particles.  That is, Wheeler believed that the relationship between the quantum realm and consciousness was, in his own words, like “a smoky dragon biting its tail.” 

The Anthropic Principle is hard for many scientists to digest because it puts consciousness back at the center of creation.  If the Anthropic Principle is correct, then the emergence of sentient creatures is not just some fluke in an entirely random process of evolution.  Instead, the potential for sentience has been woven into the fabric of the universe all along; that is, sentience is something the universe aims at, even if the route it takes to get there is undetermined and even random.

The Uroboros and the Anthropic Principle would appear to imply a teleological view of nature.  That is, the Universe aims at something; most plausibly self-understanding.  That is, the Universe has evolved creatures capable of representing to cosmos to itself.  As Schelling put it, “we are the eyes and ears of the universe.”  If this view is correct, then consciousness is not a fluke, but an inextricable thread woven into the fabric of the universe.  Anderson echoes this view; in his solo DVD, A Tour of the Universe, Anderson insists that the purpose of life is to seek out the source of our creation.  This is a mystical outlook, no doubt, but it is a view that is in accord with many mystically inclined philosophers such as Pythagoras, Plato, and Schelling, to name a few.

The song Roundabout is a musical journey that travels full circle.  In the end, Roundabout revisits and recapitulates the acoustic guitar motif the song began with.   Musically, the song seems capture the same theme expressed in T.S. Eliot’s famous lines: 

We shall not cease from our exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time

Roundabout is music that takes listeners on a journey.  The song raised the bar in rock music by demonstrating that rock musicians could aspire to create serious music with an orchestral impact.  In particular, Yes’ exceptional ability to paint pictures with sound and create a rich sonic landscape listeners can explore and ponder is on full display here.  But Roundabout is not just a musical tour de force; it is also song that kindles the philosophical imagination.  This is not to say that Yes deliberately set out to express philosophical ideas.  Rather, as Schopenhauer noted, music can be an unconscious exercise in metaphysics.  Roundabout is not jut symphonic rock, it metaphysics set to music.

Scott O’Reilly is a freelance writer.  He is the author of Yes and Philosophy: The Spiritual and Philosophical Dimensions of Yes Music.  To learn more about Yes and Philosophy and my other books you can visit my author page at:  http://www.amazon.com/Scott-OReilly/e/B007C7POK0/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1  Contact:( neuroscott@aol.com)

Review: Yes at the Capitol Theatre in Port Chester NY July 28th 2013

Yes is a band that has had more ups and downs than an elevator operator.  Albums such as “Close to the Edge,” “The Yes Album,” and “Going for the One” represent the heights of progressive rock, but the group has also had its share of low points too (as bargain bin albums like “Open Your Eyes,” Big Generator,” and “Tormato” demonstrate).  On their 2013 tour, however, Yes is very much a band very much on the upswing.

Yes is celebrating their 45^th anniversary as a group this year.  To mark the occasion the band is performing three of its most popular and critically acclaimed albums (“Close to the Edge,” “The Yes Album,” and “Going for the One”) in their entirety and original running order on tour.  This approach has proven a hit with fans as Yes is playing to capacity crowds and rave reviews.  The acclamation is well-deserved.  Put simply, right now Yes is playing like a well-oiled machine firing on all cylinders.  Epics like “Awaken” and “Close to the Edge” are executed with musical precision, but there is also a freshness, vitality, and soul in the performances.

Newcomer Jon Davison is especially impressive and an exceptionally good fit for the band.  His voice may lack the uniqueness of the inimitable Jon Anderson, but he has a very attractive timbre, an innate musicality, an ease with his upper-register.  Time and again, Davison embellished familiar musical codas with novel inflections in ways that were surprising and inspired.  You’d have to be deaf (or a music critic at Rolling Stone) not appreciate the grace and beauty he added to Yes’ classics.

This is the first time I’ve been at a Yes concert where the crowd was on its feet following each and every song.  However, the band created many spine-tingling moments and the spontaneous applause and standing ovations were more than merited.  As is customary, Guitarist Steve Howe was in superb form.  If there is a more tasteful, imaginative, and dexterous six-stringer out there, then I haven’t heard him.  Geoff Downes may not be the kind of keyboardist to don a cape, but he was excellent throughout.  Indeed, his jazzy improvisation on the overlooked gem, “A Venture,” was a highlight.  The Squire/White rhythm section was crisp, powerful, and dynamic as well.        

Yes as long been ridiculed by critics at Rolling Stone and snubbed by the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, but as the 2013 tour progresses it is clear that Yes will let the music speak for itself.  Right now, as a live act Yes is on Everest.

40th Anniversary of Roundabout

The year is 1972. An ominous backward piano chord emanates from the FM radio airwaves. Suddenly, an eerie mood is punctuated by a melancholic classical guitar. A sense of anticipation quickly begins to build. A baroque-sounding guitar fill is leading somewhere . . . A slight pause, then, a hypnotically serpentine bass line kicks the music into high gear. “I’ll be the Roundabout . . . the words will make you out and out.”

Catchy, cryptic, and instantly classic, Roundabout leapt out of the airwaves like panther pouncing on its prey. The instrumentation and arrangement seemed partly classical, but the music really rocked. Natural harmonics, a counterpart chorus coda, newfangled synthesizers, exotic multilayered percussion, and a rock singer who sounded like he belonged in a choir, these were just some of the striking elements that swept listeners off their feet some 40 true summers ago.

“I will remember you. Your silhouette will charge the view of distant atmosphere.” Roundabout dazzled lyrically as well as musically. But most of all, this was music that seemed to paint pictures with sound. Yes – composed from Chris Squire’s volcanic bass, Steve Howe’s angular fretwork, Bill Bruford’s deft percussion, Rick Wakeman’s incredibly florid keyboards, and Jon Anderson’s ethereal vocals -- marked a new development in rock. Yes was a rock band that aimed to have the same aesthetic impact as classical composers and symphony orchestras.

Roundabout conjured up imagery with sound. The tempestuous middle section (“Along the drifting cloud the eagle searching down on the land”) is as intense and imagistic as anything in rock. Chris Squire’s thunderous bass, Rick Wakeman’s lightning fast keyboards, Bill Bruford’s mesmerizing percussion, and Steve Howe’s tightly-coiled guitar work are woven together to create an atmospheric tapestry of sound, which listeners can embroider with their own imaginations.

Roundabout seems tailor-made for imaginative interpretations. Bassist Chris Squire has always been reluctant to discuss the meaning of Roundabout because he believes listeners should approach the song with their own perspectives. To paraphrase the novelist Umberto Eco, art should be inexhaustible. That is, good art, poetry, and music will always yield fresh new interpretations and sources of meaning.

In a recent interview, Anderson and Wakeman relate how they wanted to create music that would be of interest and relevance decades hence. Well, it has been forty years since Roundabout hit the airwaves, but in many ways the song still seems timeless. In fact, the Times of London once wagered that Yes was the one rock band that people would be listening to centuries from now. It’s an astonishing thought, but then phase that began with Roundabout, and which includes Close to the Edge, The Gates of Delirium, and Tales from Topographic Oceans constitutes some pretty astonishing music.

Roundabout and the Uroboros Motif

Yes is a musical supernova. For more than forty years the British progressive rock stars that constitute Yes have brightened the musical horizons with their eclectic compositions. Yes music can be explosive, heavenly, really far-out, but Yes music is also like the North Star which guides wayward travelers home.

Why rhapsodize about Yes music? Compositions like Close to the Edge, Ritual, Machine Messiah, The Gates of Delirium, Fly From Here, and Roundabout are ambitious pieces of music which exhibit “structure and vision” in the words of the philosopher Bill Martin.

Martin was the first philosopher to grapple with Yes music in a serious way. He recognized what many fans intuited; namely, that Yes music deals with some weighty issues, often in a profound way.

Yes’ lyrics are renowned for being cryptic and mystical, which has led many critics to dismiss the band’s work as pretentious and rationally unintelligible. What exactly is a Roundabout, after all?

Anderson has claimed that lyrics to the band’s signature track were inspired by a traffic roundabout he encountered on the way the recording studio. But Jon is too much of a poet for this rather pedestrian interpretation to suffice. As it happens, there is a lot going on in the song to suggest that the term “roundabout” refers to a cosmic process symbolized by the mythical Uroboros, the snake that consumes its own tail.

The Uroboros is one of the most potent images in the mythic imagination. Artwork and jewelry depicting the Uroboros date to earliest antiquity. Descriptions of the Uroboros appear in the Egyptian Book of the Dead, Plato’s philosophy, and in the Hindu Upanishads. The Uroboros was a frequently used motif in alchemy; the Swiss psychologist Carl Jung believed the Uroboros symbolically represented the psyche; and the chemist Kekule dreamt of a Uroboros shortly before discovering that the structure of the benzene molecule resembled a snake eating its own tail!

Yes fans, of course, are familiar with the Uroboros motif; Roger Dean’s Yes logo endlessly feeds into itself just as the mythical Uroboros does. You can see this most explicitly with Dean’s Yes logo on the inner booklet on the Fly From Here album, where the Yes logo is depicted as a snake consuming itself. But the motif actually crops up a lot in Yes’ work. For instance, Chris Squire’s phase-delayed bass in Roundabout seems to double back on itself, like a snake eating it own tail. And Roundabout is a song that explicitly comes full circle: the ending recapitulates with the same acoustic guitar motif that began the song.

What is the significance of the Uroboros motif and the song Roundabout? To learn more check out my e-book “Yes and Philosophy: the Spiritual and Philosophical Dimensions of Yes Music.”

Yes - Fly from Here Review

Yes is a band known for transporting listeners into uncharted musical spheres. Close the Edge ventured into cosmic states of consciousness, Gates of Delirium into the madness of war, and Tales from Topographic Oceans delved into mankind’s collective unconscious. Yes’ latest foray, Fly from Here is a comparatively down to earth affair (it merely entails a voyage into the nostalgic realm of vintage air travel circa the 1940s).

The subject of time travel is entirely appropriate given the origins of Yes’ latest epic, which first surfaced as an unreleased demo from the sessions of the Drama album recorded some thirty years ago. That album was the first and only album to feature The Buggles, the pop duo of Trevor Horn and Geoff Downes, who replaced the irreplaceable Jon Anderson and Rick Wakeman. Drama, however, turned out to be a solid, cohesive, and musically rewarding effort, but the newly configured Yes disbanded shortly thereafter.

Trevor Horn became a successful producer. Geoff Downes went on to form Asia. And Yes has continued its musical rollercoaster journey while shuffling its membership like musical chairs. Jon Anderson and Rick Wakeman have returned to and left Yes so many times that I’m convinced that the song Roundabout refers to the revolving door members pass through on their way in and out of the band.

Recent health problems have sidelined Jon and Rick from the band. In a seeming act of desperation, Yes enlisted the vocal services of a young Canadian singer named Benoit David after discovering him on YouTube. Shortly thereafter, Yes announced they were returning to the studio to record their first album in a decade. Before long, the band leaked word that the Buggles were back on board Yes too; Trevor Horn would produce the album and Geoff Downes would take over keyboards from Oliver Wakeman, Rick’s son, who had donned his father’s old cape, so to speak.

By now, it seemed that the Yes saga had more plot twists and personnel changes than a daytime soap opera. All the indicators suggested that Fly from Here was destined to be a musical letdown. Against all odds, Fly from Here is the closest Yes has come to a musical masterpiece in more than thirty years.

The choice of Beniot David has proven to be inspiration rather than desperation. Following Jon Anderson is no easy feat, but Benoit has a strikingly beautiful voice, particularly in the lower and middle registers. Like Anderson, Benoit also has the ability to soar vocally, but on the new album he wisely avoids trying to duplicate Anderson. Instead, Benoit puts his own stamp on the new material. In a band of world-class musicians, Benoit manages to sound both astonishingly accomplished and remarkably relaxed for a newcomer. His vocals are effortlessly invigorating and a great fit for the band and the new music.

Trevor Horn and Geoff Downes deserve enormous credit for reinvigorating Yes. They are responsible for writing much of the new material, including the overture to the 24 minute title track, Yes’ longest epic ever. Yes is a band that knows how to make a musical entrance, and opening of Fly from Here is Yes at its breathtaking best. The piece begins with a simple but haunting refrain from Geoff Downes’ keyboards. New musical lines are added in fugue like fashion. By the time Chris Squire’s thunderous bass enters you’ll know it’s time to fasten your safety belt. When Steve Howe’s guitar enters the mix you’ll know you’re heading for a destination that isn’t on any map.

The title track consists of six song-suites which segue into one another. Like classical music, Yes introduce a musical motif and then develop that theme in interesting and complex ways. Yes has used this technique before, but not since Close to the Edge and Tales from Topographic Oceans has Yes used it so effectively.
What matters in music, of course, is emotion, the ability to stir listeners, imbue them with a sense of wonder, and tap deep feelings.

There are several passages in Fly from Here that are as intense as anything Yes has ever done. That is to say, there are some soul-stirring moments in this work. Sad Night at the Airfield, in my view, is simply magnificent. Here, the tasteful elegance of Steve Howe’s acoustic guitar is perfectly matched by Beniot David’s exquisite vocals. The song begins wonderfully, but things really take off near the end with a heavenly chorus and Steve Howe’s sublime steel pedal guitar work. Suffice it to say, Sad Night at the Airfield is one of Yes’ finest moments ever.

Mad Man at the Screens contains the kind of music Yes fans live for. When Yes are clicking on all cylinders their music has a focus, power, and intensity that is hard to match. This is certainly the case with the mesmerizing coda to this track, where keyboardist Geoff Downes provides the musical sparks that ignite the band, essentially taking some terrific music up to a whole new level.

What I love about this album is its freshness and vitality. The music is consistently good, but on several occasions it soars clear out of sight. There is not a single unnecessary or throwaway song on the album. The Man You Always Wanted Me to Be showcases Chris Squire’s exceptional vocal talents. His innate musicality and sense of counterpoint harmony contribute to many thrilling moments throughout the album.

Steve Howe is a guitarist in a class by himself. His solo acoustic piece, Solitaire, is everything Yes fans and guitar aficionados have come to expect from him. It is a gentle, warm, and tasteful piece that brings out the natural beauty and magic of the guitar.

I’d be amiss if I overlooked Alan White’s contribution. White is to percussion what George Harrison was to the guitar. In other words, White is not the flashiest guy around, but he always plays great and he always provides just exactly what the music needs. The tandem of Squire and White provide Yes with a peerless rhythm section gives the music on Fly from Here a sense of forward momentum.

Fly from Here concludes with Into the Storm, a song that combines Yes’ cosmic approach with some self-deprecating humor. The song exhibits all the ingredients that make Fly from Here such a winning album: wonderful melodies, a pervasive sense that the band members are having fun, and musical passages that consistently take off in unexpected but exciting directions.

Fly from Here is the freshest, most exciting, and confident music Yes has made in decades. Newcomer Benoit David earns his Yes wings by doing such an unexpectedly fantastic job with the lead vocals. Ditto Trevor Horn and Geoff Downes, who have returned to the Yes fold after a 30 year hiatus. Fly from Here, like the best of Yes’ music, is a grand musical adventure that includes many spectacular soundscapes and thrilling musical vistas. Bravo, gentlemen