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.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
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.”
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.”
Monday, January 9, 2012
The Art of Roger Dean
Roger Dean’s visionary artwork kindles the human spirit. Through his brushstrokes, boulders levitate, dwellings sprout from the earth, and pathways beckon into landscapes where the physical and the spiritual become one.
Roger’s art has a paradoxical affect; it transports us into an imaginative realm but it can also make us feel at home in the physical world we inhabit. Like many Yes fans, I became enchanted by Roger’s work as a teen growing up in the 1970’s. Roger’s fantastical landscapes were the perfect complement to the ethereal soundscapes Yes were creating in their heyday.
Yes is a band that paints pictures with sound, but their music is undoubtedly enhanced by Roger’s often sublimely serendipitous artwork. The music on albums like Fragile, Close to the Edge, Relayer, and Tales from Topographic Oceans can stand alone, but there is no doubt that Roger’s cover art for these albums fuses with the music to create a more total and encompassing aesthetic experience.
There is a timeless quality to Roger’s art, but in many ways his art seems way ahead of our times. The world of Pandora depicted in James Cameron’s sci-fi blockbuster, Avatar, seems like it was lifted directly from Roger’s imagination. The characters on Pandora tame winged dragons, which fly amidst gravity-defying island boulders sprouting trees. Images like these are familiar to Dean’s fans.
The inhabitants of Pandora exhibit a theme which permeates Roger’s artwork: namely, they are a people that live in close harmony with their natural environment. This motif has always made Roger’s artwork very attractive to me. The idea that homes and buildings could be an extension of the environment and blend in with it has always seemed to me an ideal worth realizing. Today, many architects are pursuing something along the lines of Dean’s visionary approach to architecture. For instance, the Metropol Parasol in Seville (Spain) and the Mediatheque Library in Tokyo (Japan) both utilizes tree like patterns to create environments that are as habitable psychologically as they are physically.
Much of modern architecture and our suburban and urban landscapes are alienating. Architects who utilize patterns and motifs from natural phenomenon like trees may be onto something, in so far as they create buildings that remind us of and reconnect us with the natural world. Roger has long voiced his belief that “journeying through a physical landscape can be a spiritual experience.” In a way, I believe that is the goal of art; to fuse the physical and the spiritual.
Roger’s artwork points in the direction of mankind living in harmony with the natural environment. His landscapes invite our imaginations to participate in worlds that are ideal, something more than real, but not quite impossible. Roger’s work is timeless because it can transport us into a future where art and reality become one.
Roger’s art has a paradoxical affect; it transports us into an imaginative realm but it can also make us feel at home in the physical world we inhabit. Like many Yes fans, I became enchanted by Roger’s work as a teen growing up in the 1970’s. Roger’s fantastical landscapes were the perfect complement to the ethereal soundscapes Yes were creating in their heyday.
Yes is a band that paints pictures with sound, but their music is undoubtedly enhanced by Roger’s often sublimely serendipitous artwork. The music on albums like Fragile, Close to the Edge, Relayer, and Tales from Topographic Oceans can stand alone, but there is no doubt that Roger’s cover art for these albums fuses with the music to create a more total and encompassing aesthetic experience.
There is a timeless quality to Roger’s art, but in many ways his art seems way ahead of our times. The world of Pandora depicted in James Cameron’s sci-fi blockbuster, Avatar, seems like it was lifted directly from Roger’s imagination. The characters on Pandora tame winged dragons, which fly amidst gravity-defying island boulders sprouting trees. Images like these are familiar to Dean’s fans.
The inhabitants of Pandora exhibit a theme which permeates Roger’s artwork: namely, they are a people that live in close harmony with their natural environment. This motif has always made Roger’s artwork very attractive to me. The idea that homes and buildings could be an extension of the environment and blend in with it has always seemed to me an ideal worth realizing. Today, many architects are pursuing something along the lines of Dean’s visionary approach to architecture. For instance, the Metropol Parasol in Seville (Spain) and the Mediatheque Library in Tokyo (Japan) both utilizes tree like patterns to create environments that are as habitable psychologically as they are physically.
Much of modern architecture and our suburban and urban landscapes are alienating. Architects who utilize patterns and motifs from natural phenomenon like trees may be onto something, in so far as they create buildings that remind us of and reconnect us with the natural world. Roger has long voiced his belief that “journeying through a physical landscape can be a spiritual experience.” In a way, I believe that is the goal of art; to fuse the physical and the spiritual.
Roger’s artwork points in the direction of mankind living in harmony with the natural environment. His landscapes invite our imaginations to participate in worlds that are ideal, something more than real, but not quite impossible. Roger’s work is timeless because it can transport us into a future where art and reality become one.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Yes -- In The Present Live from Lyons Review
2008 began as a promising year for Yes. The classic-lineup was planning a world tour to celebrate the band’s 40th anniversary and hopes were high that new studio material might be forthcoming. Instead, lead singer Jon Anderson faced a series of life-threatening illnesses and keyboardist Rick Wakeman (facing health restrictions of his own) bowed out of the tour. Suddenly, Anderson and Wakeman, two signature elements in the Yes sound, were unavailable.
Jon and Rick really are irreplaceable, but the remaining core of Yes made the controversial decision to soldier on with two new members. Benoit David, a Canadian singer in a Yes tribute band was asked to step into Jon’s shoes and Oliver Wakeman, Rick’s son, was handed his father’s old cape so to speak. For old guard fans, the newest configuration of Yes had morphed into a tribute band.
It is hardly surprising that the Benoit configuration of Yes has taken its share of hits from many long-term fans of Yes. What is surprising is that the Benoit era is proving to be something of a scrappy success. Since 2008, Yes has released, Fly from Here, the group’s best studio album in ages, and In the Present: Live from Lyon, which features a well-chosen set list, great sound, and feisty performances.
Benoit is a singer who can sound enough like Anderson to make you temporarily forget that you are not hearing the real thing. Benoit has a good voice, probably better suited to Broadway than rock, but his voice lacks the magic ease Jon has with high notes. On In the Present, Benoit does occasionally show signs of strain in his higher register, but he does a respectable job, and then some, performing Yes classics like Heart of the Sunrise, And You and I and Starship Trooper. Sonically and artistically, the version of Roundabout on the In the Present is one of the best I’ve heard live.
Newcomers Benoit and Oliver are at their best, however, in Machine Messiah, a track from the vastly underrated Drama album. The original version featuring Trevor Horn who had replaced Jon Anderson on vocals, had not been performed live since 1980. The live performance here is something of a revelation as the instrumental interplay between the band members and the strength of Benoit’s vocals exceed the high levels of the studio version.
Southside of the Sky works well too, though the musical chemistry between Oliver and Steve in the climatic instrumental battle does not quite match the musical rapport Steve has displayed with Rick in the past. Nevertheless, In the Present provides a snapshot of cohesive band that can still generate musical sparks. True, the tempos of these songs are slower than in yesteryear, but the music sounds spacious and mostly fresh. Steve Howe is particularly inventive throughout. For instance, I especially like his referencing a lick from Pacific Haze in the rarely performed Astral Traveler, a song which demonstrates some of the blistering energy of old and a concise and musically engaging drum solo by Alan White. Steve’s acoustic solo, Corkscrew, is a tasteful gem.
Finally, the bonus DVD of In the Present Live contains a worthwhile 52 minute documentary on the band, which includes full video performances of Roundabout and Machine Messiah. Sonically and visually these tracks show Yes in fine form.
Jon and Rick really are irreplaceable, but the remaining core of Yes made the controversial decision to soldier on with two new members. Benoit David, a Canadian singer in a Yes tribute band was asked to step into Jon’s shoes and Oliver Wakeman, Rick’s son, was handed his father’s old cape so to speak. For old guard fans, the newest configuration of Yes had morphed into a tribute band.
It is hardly surprising that the Benoit configuration of Yes has taken its share of hits from many long-term fans of Yes. What is surprising is that the Benoit era is proving to be something of a scrappy success. Since 2008, Yes has released, Fly from Here, the group’s best studio album in ages, and In the Present: Live from Lyon, which features a well-chosen set list, great sound, and feisty performances.
Benoit is a singer who can sound enough like Anderson to make you temporarily forget that you are not hearing the real thing. Benoit has a good voice, probably better suited to Broadway than rock, but his voice lacks the magic ease Jon has with high notes. On In the Present, Benoit does occasionally show signs of strain in his higher register, but he does a respectable job, and then some, performing Yes classics like Heart of the Sunrise, And You and I and Starship Trooper. Sonically and artistically, the version of Roundabout on the In the Present is one of the best I’ve heard live.
Newcomers Benoit and Oliver are at their best, however, in Machine Messiah, a track from the vastly underrated Drama album. The original version featuring Trevor Horn who had replaced Jon Anderson on vocals, had not been performed live since 1980. The live performance here is something of a revelation as the instrumental interplay between the band members and the strength of Benoit’s vocals exceed the high levels of the studio version.
Southside of the Sky works well too, though the musical chemistry between Oliver and Steve in the climatic instrumental battle does not quite match the musical rapport Steve has displayed with Rick in the past. Nevertheless, In the Present provides a snapshot of cohesive band that can still generate musical sparks. True, the tempos of these songs are slower than in yesteryear, but the music sounds spacious and mostly fresh. Steve Howe is particularly inventive throughout. For instance, I especially like his referencing a lick from Pacific Haze in the rarely performed Astral Traveler, a song which demonstrates some of the blistering energy of old and a concise and musically engaging drum solo by Alan White. Steve’s acoustic solo, Corkscrew, is a tasteful gem.
Finally, the bonus DVD of In the Present Live contains a worthwhile 52 minute documentary on the band, which includes full video performances of Roundabout and Machine Messiah. Sonically and visually these tracks show Yes in fine form.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Jon Anderson - Cage of Freedom
The1980s were a very creative and successful time for Jon Anderson. Yes’ 90125 was a blockbuster hit, Jon & Vangelis were garnering commercial and critical acclaim, and Jon’s solo career was in full swing with popular albums like Animation, 3 Ships and In the City of Angels.
In 1984, Jon found time to contribute the song Cage of Freedom to the soundtrack for Georgio Morodor’s Metropololis Redux. The film is a restoration version of the 1926 silent sci-fi classic directed by the legendary Fritz Lang, but with music provided by popular performers from the 1980s, including Freddy Mercury, Adam Ant, and Bonnie Tyler.
Metropolis remains one of the most visually impressive, influential, and thought provoking films in cinematic history. Its central theme, egregious social and economic inequality, is as pertinent today as ever. As the philosopher Plato noted, there is nothing more tragic than a city divided against itself, where one half of the population live in luxury, but where the other half are plunged into grief.
Metropolis tells the story of carefree elite which populate the skyscrapers of a futuristic city. These fortunate sons and daughters fritter their time and energy away on idle pursuits and trivial pleasures, much as we moderns anesthetize ourselves with “reality TV,” computer games, and the like. However, beneath the great city a vast underclass toils incessantly to provide the energy that powers the great Metropolis. The lives of these underground dwellers are so bleak that they plan a revolt, which ultimately threatens to destroy the all of Metropolis. In the end, disaster is averted, but only because masses that built Metropolis and the elites that planned it are forced to work together.
Today, the gap between the haves and the have-nots has widened to alarming proportions. The lessons of Metropolis (and history) suggest that such economic imbalances are inherently unstable. Put simply, economic injustice inevitably entails forms of oppression. Jon Anderson’s song, Cage of Freedom, zeroes in on a subtle form of oppression, namely the totalitarian potential of technology.
In Metropolis, the elites use video surveillance to track and subvert to workers. Director Fritz Lang was a visionary, but not even he could have imagined all the computer gizmos and gadgets that can be used today to track our every move. The lyrics of Cage of Freedom hone in how we are so often complicit in Orwellian forms and structures that govern our lives. Anderson sings, for example:
To make it safer we double the guard
Cage of freedom
There’s no escaping
We fabricated this world on our own.
There's no exit, there's no entrance
Remember how we swallowed the key?
Cage of freedom, that's our prison
We fabricated this world on our own.
Smart phones, I-Pads, and computers supposedly liberate us, but they can also be used to track our every move and devour our privacy. We love our personal data assistants and it can be hard to imagine life without them, but it also true that they ensnare us in many ways too. In fact, we hardly notice the subtle ways these devices can contribute to an Orwellian environment.
The final lines in Cage of Freedom highlight how constant and pervasive surveillance, designed to keep us safe, has the potential to turn the public square into a prison:
Big brother
Is there a bigger one watching you
Or is there one smaller
Who I should be watching too
Infinite circles of
Snakes eating their own tails
For every one chasing
Another is on the trail
Is that a friend
Can you tell, is he on your side?
'Cause I spy with my little eye
Yet another spy...
Metropolis and Jon Anderson’s Cage of Freedom examine the potentially sinister and dystopian aspects of technology. Cage of Freedom does not appear on any of Jon’s solo albums, so it is often overlooked, but I believe fans of Jon’s work will want to check it out. Both the song and the film are as pertinent as ever. For those who are interested, I explore this theme in greater length in my book “Yes and Philosophy” available in Amazon’s Kindle store.
In 1984, Jon found time to contribute the song Cage of Freedom to the soundtrack for Georgio Morodor’s Metropololis Redux. The film is a restoration version of the 1926 silent sci-fi classic directed by the legendary Fritz Lang, but with music provided by popular performers from the 1980s, including Freddy Mercury, Adam Ant, and Bonnie Tyler.
Metropolis remains one of the most visually impressive, influential, and thought provoking films in cinematic history. Its central theme, egregious social and economic inequality, is as pertinent today as ever. As the philosopher Plato noted, there is nothing more tragic than a city divided against itself, where one half of the population live in luxury, but where the other half are plunged into grief.
Metropolis tells the story of carefree elite which populate the skyscrapers of a futuristic city. These fortunate sons and daughters fritter their time and energy away on idle pursuits and trivial pleasures, much as we moderns anesthetize ourselves with “reality TV,” computer games, and the like. However, beneath the great city a vast underclass toils incessantly to provide the energy that powers the great Metropolis. The lives of these underground dwellers are so bleak that they plan a revolt, which ultimately threatens to destroy the all of Metropolis. In the end, disaster is averted, but only because masses that built Metropolis and the elites that planned it are forced to work together.
Today, the gap between the haves and the have-nots has widened to alarming proportions. The lessons of Metropolis (and history) suggest that such economic imbalances are inherently unstable. Put simply, economic injustice inevitably entails forms of oppression. Jon Anderson’s song, Cage of Freedom, zeroes in on a subtle form of oppression, namely the totalitarian potential of technology.
In Metropolis, the elites use video surveillance to track and subvert to workers. Director Fritz Lang was a visionary, but not even he could have imagined all the computer gizmos and gadgets that can be used today to track our every move. The lyrics of Cage of Freedom hone in how we are so often complicit in Orwellian forms and structures that govern our lives. Anderson sings, for example:
To make it safer we double the guard
Cage of freedom
There’s no escaping
We fabricated this world on our own.
There's no exit, there's no entrance
Remember how we swallowed the key?
Cage of freedom, that's our prison
We fabricated this world on our own.
Smart phones, I-Pads, and computers supposedly liberate us, but they can also be used to track our every move and devour our privacy. We love our personal data assistants and it can be hard to imagine life without them, but it also true that they ensnare us in many ways too. In fact, we hardly notice the subtle ways these devices can contribute to an Orwellian environment.
The final lines in Cage of Freedom highlight how constant and pervasive surveillance, designed to keep us safe, has the potential to turn the public square into a prison:
Big brother
Is there a bigger one watching you
Or is there one smaller
Who I should be watching too
Infinite circles of
Snakes eating their own tails
For every one chasing
Another is on the trail
Is that a friend
Can you tell, is he on your side?
'Cause I spy with my little eye
Yet another spy...
Metropolis and Jon Anderson’s Cage of Freedom examine the potentially sinister and dystopian aspects of technology. Cage of Freedom does not appear on any of Jon’s solo albums, so it is often overlooked, but I believe fans of Jon’s work will want to check it out. Both the song and the film are as pertinent as ever. For those who are interested, I explore this theme in greater length in my book “Yes and Philosophy” available in Amazon’s Kindle store.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Yes and the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame
This year, The Beastie Boys were inducted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame. The Beastie Boys have probably sold a zillion records, but you probably need to have Van Gogh’s ear for music to appreciate their “artistry.” Personally, I think their “music” is the sonic equivalent of a root canal procedure. However, there is no denying that The Beastie Boys are proof positive that you don’t necessarily need musical talent to succeed in the music business.
Musical talent, of course, is not always a hindrance when it comes to success in the music business. Groups like Yes, The Moody Blues, and Jethro Tull have each sold in the neighborhood of 40 - 60 million records while carving out successful careers that have endured for five decades and counting. All three of these progressive dinosaurs are still touring. Indeed, Yes is not only still touring, but they also recently released a studio effort, Fly From Here, which is their most successful and rewarding album in decades.
Yes, Tull, and The Moody Blues share a number of things in common. They are bands with a fine sense of melody, they are renowned for their instrumental excellence, each group has a dedicated fan base, and each group has produced ground-breaking classic albums. Put simply, The Moody Blues’ Day of Future Passed, Tull’s Aqualung, and Yes’ Close to the Edge are highly regarded and highly influential milestones in rock music.
Yes, Tull, and The Moody Blues share another feature in common; they have been repeatedly snubbed by The Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame. The Hall of Fame’s criteria seems objective: “We shall consider factors such as an artist's musical influence on other artists, length and depth of career and the body of work, innovation and superiority in style and technique, but musical excellence shall be the essential qualification of induction.”
Can anyone doubt that Yes’ monster hit Roundabout raised the bar to a whole new level for rock musicians? Similarly, The Moody Blues’ The Nights in White Satin, was a pioneering effort in fusing a rock band with an orchestra. Indeed, Days of Future Passed is arguable the first true concept album in rock, at least in so far as the Beatles Sgt. Peppers was always something of a faux concept. Additionally, Ian Anderson was not only the first flutist in rock he was also one of first true virtuoso musicians in rock.
By any standard – sales, influence, innovation, body of work, musical excellence – Yes, Tull, and The Moody Blues deserve recognition as the epitome of excellence in rock music. These are groups that pushed the envelope in so many ways. Yes, Tull, and The Moody Blues included classical-caliber musicians like Steve Howe, Ian Anderson, and Patrick Moraz. When you talk about “superiority in style and technique” you are talking about musicians like these.
Yes, Tull, and The Moody Blues have demonstrated their musical excellence over five decades. Each of these groups as produced several albums that can be classified as iconic or classic. If future generations are listening to and studying popular music from the late 20th century it will likely include music from To Our Children’s Children, Tales from Topographic Oceans, and Thick as a Brick. Each of these albums is bold, experimental, and aesthetically rewarding.
The judges who have snubbed Yes, Tull, and The Moody Blues may think these groups are pretentious. In truth, it is the judges who are pompous and hypocritical in so far as they’d establish criteria for musical excellence and then induct groups like The Beastie Boys over Yes, Tull, and the Moody Blues. Of course, getting into the hall of fame would be a career boost to Yes, Tull, and The Moody Blues. But having the Hall’s selection committee judge Yes, Tull and The Moody Blues makes about as much sense as asking the “chefs” at McDonald’s to judge a five star restaurant in Paris, or a panel of colorblind individuals to weigh in the works of Monet, Matisse, and Van Gogh.
Musical talent, of course, is not always a hindrance when it comes to success in the music business. Groups like Yes, The Moody Blues, and Jethro Tull have each sold in the neighborhood of 40 - 60 million records while carving out successful careers that have endured for five decades and counting. All three of these progressive dinosaurs are still touring. Indeed, Yes is not only still touring, but they also recently released a studio effort, Fly From Here, which is their most successful and rewarding album in decades.
Yes, Tull, and The Moody Blues share a number of things in common. They are bands with a fine sense of melody, they are renowned for their instrumental excellence, each group has a dedicated fan base, and each group has produced ground-breaking classic albums. Put simply, The Moody Blues’ Day of Future Passed, Tull’s Aqualung, and Yes’ Close to the Edge are highly regarded and highly influential milestones in rock music.
Yes, Tull, and The Moody Blues share another feature in common; they have been repeatedly snubbed by The Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame. The Hall of Fame’s criteria seems objective: “We shall consider factors such as an artist's musical influence on other artists, length and depth of career and the body of work, innovation and superiority in style and technique, but musical excellence shall be the essential qualification of induction.”
Can anyone doubt that Yes’ monster hit Roundabout raised the bar to a whole new level for rock musicians? Similarly, The Moody Blues’ The Nights in White Satin, was a pioneering effort in fusing a rock band with an orchestra. Indeed, Days of Future Passed is arguable the first true concept album in rock, at least in so far as the Beatles Sgt. Peppers was always something of a faux concept. Additionally, Ian Anderson was not only the first flutist in rock he was also one of first true virtuoso musicians in rock.
By any standard – sales, influence, innovation, body of work, musical excellence – Yes, Tull, and The Moody Blues deserve recognition as the epitome of excellence in rock music. These are groups that pushed the envelope in so many ways. Yes, Tull, and The Moody Blues included classical-caliber musicians like Steve Howe, Ian Anderson, and Patrick Moraz. When you talk about “superiority in style and technique” you are talking about musicians like these.
Yes, Tull, and The Moody Blues have demonstrated their musical excellence over five decades. Each of these groups as produced several albums that can be classified as iconic or classic. If future generations are listening to and studying popular music from the late 20th century it will likely include music from To Our Children’s Children, Tales from Topographic Oceans, and Thick as a Brick. Each of these albums is bold, experimental, and aesthetically rewarding.
The judges who have snubbed Yes, Tull, and The Moody Blues may think these groups are pretentious. In truth, it is the judges who are pompous and hypocritical in so far as they’d establish criteria for musical excellence and then induct groups like The Beastie Boys over Yes, Tull, and the Moody Blues. Of course, getting into the hall of fame would be a career boost to Yes, Tull, and The Moody Blues. But having the Hall’s selection committee judge Yes, Tull and The Moody Blues makes about as much sense as asking the “chefs” at McDonald’s to judge a five star restaurant in Paris, or a panel of colorblind individuals to weigh in the works of Monet, Matisse, and Van Gogh.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Jon Anderson -- Survival and Other Stories - Review
Jon Anderson’s voice has been a beacon of light for more than 40 years. As the mystical singer of Yes, Jon helped define progressive rock in 1970s, creating some of the most ambitious and timeless musical works of his generation. In the 1980s, Anderson paired up with the Greek keyboard wizard Vangelis, a collaboration that resulted in hauntingly beautiful extended works like The Friends of Mr. Cairo and Horizons. And in the 1990s, Jon teamed up with the New-Age composer Kitaro to create the exquisite and inspiring music found on the album Dreams.
In the new millennium Anderson continued to work with Yes until life-threatening health issues led to his involuntary departure from the group he put his heart and soul into. The circumstances surrounding Jon’s rift with the band are unfortunate. However, true to form Jon has responded to the challenges life thrust upon him with personal and musical dignity. I saw Jon Anderson in concert in Ridgefield CT in 2010 and can personally attest that his unique musical gifts (and sense of humor) are well intact. Jon is still in very good voice and his music and stage presence are as enchanting as ever.
Jon is best experienced in small venues, which allow for an intimate setting and a real rapport with the audience. Recording technology is amazing, but no CD or recording can truly capture the magic of hearing Jon live. Nevertheless, his new album, Survival and Other Stories does what good music should do; namely, it creates a bond with its listeners.
Jon’s music on Survival and Other Stories is both highly personal and deeply felt. Unbroken Spirit touches on Jon’s health crisis and his struggle to maintain his spirit in the face of bodily decline. This is not the kind of fare you’d expect from a rock singer, but this gentle, almost whimsical song is suffused with a melodic grace that is touching and inspiring.
Jon is in remarkably good voice throughout this record, which is a wonder considering his health issues. Nevertheless, one can’t help but notice a certain frailty and vulnerability in his sound. If anything, I think this works to the music’s advantage because I believe age has extended the emotional range in Jon’s voice. Paradoxically, Jon may sound more emotionally exposed, but he is also more inspiring than ever.
There is a wealth of great melodies on this album. Love and Understanding, for example, is as uplifting and melodically exuberant as anything Jon Anderson has ever done. The music here is just full of an irrepressible soul-nourishing joy. Just One Man, on the other hand, is an achingly beautiful song that expresses Jon’s belief that hope can triumph over mankind’s tragic condition.
If I were to use just one word to describe the music on the album it would be “organic.” The songs here are wholesome, refreshing, and soul-nourishing. Jon’s spirit is shining as brightly as ever on his new album. This is music that will warm your heart and touch your soul.
In the new millennium Anderson continued to work with Yes until life-threatening health issues led to his involuntary departure from the group he put his heart and soul into. The circumstances surrounding Jon’s rift with the band are unfortunate. However, true to form Jon has responded to the challenges life thrust upon him with personal and musical dignity. I saw Jon Anderson in concert in Ridgefield CT in 2010 and can personally attest that his unique musical gifts (and sense of humor) are well intact. Jon is still in very good voice and his music and stage presence are as enchanting as ever.
Jon is best experienced in small venues, which allow for an intimate setting and a real rapport with the audience. Recording technology is amazing, but no CD or recording can truly capture the magic of hearing Jon live. Nevertheless, his new album, Survival and Other Stories does what good music should do; namely, it creates a bond with its listeners.
Jon’s music on Survival and Other Stories is both highly personal and deeply felt. Unbroken Spirit touches on Jon’s health crisis and his struggle to maintain his spirit in the face of bodily decline. This is not the kind of fare you’d expect from a rock singer, but this gentle, almost whimsical song is suffused with a melodic grace that is touching and inspiring.
Jon is in remarkably good voice throughout this record, which is a wonder considering his health issues. Nevertheless, one can’t help but notice a certain frailty and vulnerability in his sound. If anything, I think this works to the music’s advantage because I believe age has extended the emotional range in Jon’s voice. Paradoxically, Jon may sound more emotionally exposed, but he is also more inspiring than ever.
There is a wealth of great melodies on this album. Love and Understanding, for example, is as uplifting and melodically exuberant as anything Jon Anderson has ever done. The music here is just full of an irrepressible soul-nourishing joy. Just One Man, on the other hand, is an achingly beautiful song that expresses Jon’s belief that hope can triumph over mankind’s tragic condition.
If I were to use just one word to describe the music on the album it would be “organic.” The songs here are wholesome, refreshing, and soul-nourishing. Jon’s spirit is shining as brightly as ever on his new album. This is music that will warm your heart and touch your soul.
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