| The
Review |
WALKING THE WALK…
My initial attempt at this review involved recounting
the complex history of Yes up to this point in their career,
but let's put all that aside in favor of the most important
thing you need to know: THIS IS THE BEST YES ALBUM OF THEM
ALL. After 25+ years together in various incarnations, this
pioneering band's stars finally aligned to create surely the
most consistent and powerful recording of their career, and
to my ears at least, a defining moment in the still-unfolding
history of progressive rock.
Surely intended as the CD's (first) hit single, "The
Calling" gets things rolling immediately with an unusually
simple F-C-G guitar chord sequence before the massed Yes vocal
chorus enters: "Feel the calling of a miracle, in the presence
of the word…" Alan White's characteristically muscular drums
kick in, and we're off to a lively workout parading much of
what "Talk" has to offer: high gloss production, brainy songwriting,
the confidence of veteran musicians comfortable with each
others' talents, and a GREAT deal of passion, particularly
on the part of guitarist Trevor Rabin, who surely saw this
as his crowning accomplishment with Yes (as indeed, it turned
out to be).
My guess is that "The Calling"
at its surface level, lyrically celebrates the ascendancy
of an awakened third world, a notion clearly more optimistic
than reality supports. Still, it's a sentiment few would deliberately
take issue with, and at least one very memorable lyrical couplet
is spun: "in the beginning is the future, and the future is
at hand." Set to the propulsive beat of White's powerhouse
drumming, the song arrives at a choppy instrumental mid-section
with an escalating riff ratcheting up to an organ/guitar power-chord
plateau, serving as launch pad for a mind-bending twisty electronically-processed
guitar solo that then yields to a sunny little organ solo
by the much-underrated Tony Kaye, followed by Rabin & Kaye
swapping riffs to lead us back to the beginning, a repeat
of the refrain, advancing to the track's full-circle return
to the introductory chords as a solo voice (Anderson?) closes
out the track, "in the beginning is the future…"
Interpreting Yes lyrics is always tricky, but it's also
unnecessary; by the time "Talk" came out, I'd long concluded
that when it came to Jon Anderson's twittery Yes lyrics, the
juice basically wasn't worth the squeeze to try to wring some
sense out of them. Much of the "point" of most (not all) Yes
songs, I've come to believe, is just in the unusual ways some
phrases mesh with the musical arrangements and compositional
ideas being presented. For example, "Heart of the Sunrise"
from "Fragile;" what the hell is the line "SHARP-DISTANCE-How
can the wind with its arms all around me" supposed to mean?
Or for that matter, what does the peculiar scrabble board
of the entire song mean? Of course we all know it and love
it as the brain-exploding centerpiece of "Fragile," and that
its musical impact reduces such considerations to afterthoughts.
And while I've occasionally wondered how much better Yes might
have been with a more conventional lyricist, well, it wouldn't
have really been Yes then, would it?
Which leads me back to "The Calling:"
while it can be superficially read as a little one-world hymn,
coupled with the brawny instrumental showcase it offers, it's
REALLY a declarative statement by the band that "we're back,
and we're serious." Or as the track itself declares, "there's
a fire burning in my heart again." And, to my surprise, "Talk"
ultimately does deliver considerable lyrical depth, as we
shall explore shortly.
With but one minor exception, the same determined fury
burns throughout "Talk." Allow me to share a few personal
highlights:
"I Am Waiting:" I had never
been aware of Rabin's skill as a slide guitar player before
this CD, but boy, he can sure make that guitar scream. The
main instrumental theme climbs one pinnacle, then goes even
higher in pitch. As the original liner notes read, "caution-extreme
digital dynamic range," and at this point you begin to REALLY
experience the loud/soft peaks/valleys.
"Walls:" a tantalizing glimmer
of "what if" here, in this track written by Trevor and Supertramp's
Roger Hodgson, I believe this was a leftover from a stillborn
collaboration between them before Trevor joined Yes and after
Roger left Supertramp. Here is a quintessential "power ballad,"
and I certainly do not mean that in any derogatory sense.
I always felt that Hodgson and Jon Anderson were kindred spirits
in many ways, both in their temperament as well as their unbelievably
high-pitched singing. I've long marveled at the unusual harmony
voices doing the lead on "Walls;" what sort of harmonic interval
IS that between the two lead singers (sounds like Trevor double
tracking himself)? The words are an unusually straightforward
plea for "love & protection," and while some shriveled souls
might cringe at such bleeding-heart emoting, in this instance
& from this source, I swallow it hook, line & sinker. This
unofficially became my personal theme song of 1995 (not that
I deliberately anoint one song annually in this way; "Walls"
just made a BIG impression on me). After hearing this and
"The Calling," I shake my head with amazement, "what in the
world do these guys have to do to get a hit anymore? Why can't
songs this good get any radio airplay?"
"Where Will You Be:" Jon
takes the reins for this one selection, and contributes the
weakest effort on the entire CD. Singing over a bubbling synthesizer
sequence, we ponder the mystery of the possibility of life
after this one along with Anderson. Compared to everything
that has preceded this track, this is almost ridiculously
superficial, though I hasten to add that it's NOT bad or unpleasant
to listen to. In fact, Rabin contributes some extremely nimble
acoustic lead guitar that certainly commands your attention
even if Jon's musings inspire little reaction. Given that
this track precedes the incredibly heavy "Endless Dream" I
suspect a comparatively lightweight song was deliberately
placed here.
All of which leads us to "Talk's"
grand finale, "Endless Dream,"
Trevor Rabin's lone contribution to the Yes repertoire
of cyclopean 10-20 minute plus prog-rock concept tracks. Really,
this is Trevor's personal "Close to the Edge," and to my ears,
in most respects, he tops "Close to the Edge" by a considerable
margin.
The thing that really drew me to progressive rock initially
was its ambition and willingness to "throw in everything including
the kitchen sink." Yeah, over time, some of that approach
has probably hardened into a new set of conventions that we
just don't recognize as such. Even so, I still think "Endless
Dream" is a brilliantly daring bit of out-there progressive
rock. In many ways it makes its own rules and certainly to
me, even at first hearing, everything made perfect sense and
it really does resonate with a revelatory aura. I think it's
not too much of a stretch to consider "Endless Dream" as a
bigger bucket drawn from the same well that "A Day in the
Life" was pulled from 37 years earlier.
"Endless Dream" leads with a shimmering synthesizer riff,
punctuated abruptly with explosive bass/guitar chords triggering
a furious riff attack by Rabin, White & Squire. Again, the
confidence and swagger of the musicians as they storm through
some quite complex musical figures is quite inspiring, even
if the listener doesn't feel obliged to count out the tricky
time signatures blazing past their ears. Concluding abruptly,
really in a musical "flash of light," the first section gives
way to Rabin at the electric piano, playing a probing, descending
theme suggesting reflective introspection as the lyrics to
follow confirm that musical impression: "temptation may come,
hope your conscience doesn't hide, the longest trip you'll
take is inside…
" Trevor then "tags out" to Jon as lead vocalist, and
the remainder of this piece proves to be one of Anderson's
most emotionally powerful performances ever. Unlike the usual
"word salad" Jon usually proffers, this time he sounds like
there's some true resignation and depth to the words he's
singing in his usual pristine clarity: "it's the last chance,
telling myself that I believe-your forever is mine, and all
I need.
" Jon finishes his soliloquy and the band muscles in again;
a power-chord transition leading to the real "meat" of this
piece, which gets underway with the trademark Yes chorus overlaying
a wild collage of electronic samples strobe-lighting between
speakers. Depending on your set-up, this is especially effective
with headphones, and those of us with Pro Logic II or some
other surround matrix capability on our receivers can REALLY
begin to "ventilate" with the extreme dynamic range and high-gloss
production Rabin provided throughout this project. This section
takes me back to "Yours is No Disgrace" from "The Yes Album"
which I heard first as a young teenager. "Disgrace," (with
its rapid panning between L-R speakers during Steve Howe's
guitar breaks) was my first "now I get it" awakening to what
stereo was for and what it could do. In the decades since
I've wholeheartedly supported all succeeding multi-channel
formats, up to and including SACD & DVD Audio; especially
for us prog-rock fans, why would we not get behind the significant
additional dimension to the sonic palette that multi-channel
sound allows? Unfortunately each succeeding multi-channel
format seems to never quite achieve commercial viability,
and those of us who jump in with both feet are left to agonize
over whether we're willing to swallow hard and buy a f*ck*ng
Steely Dan remix just to have some surround sound to listen
to (not me). I understand that 5.1 mixes of "The Lamb Lies
Down" and "Foxtrot" have been completed, but may never be
released because the record labels don't think they can recoup
their costs.
But I digress; as "Endless Dream" continues, we get oceans
of electronic sound (the opening synthesizer sample) punctuated
by sharp bass/drum intrusions, with Anderson's processed voice
announcing "coming through." The intention here, I think,
is to musically represent the continuity of human life; the
shimmering synthesizer is the thread of eternity, the bass/drum
blasts are birth. My interpretation is of course totally personal,
but it's consistent with the theme of the piece, and with
one concept I took away from my liberal arts classes in college:
"art rewards examination." The act of contemplation reveals
greater depth than the surface reveals; the truth lies not
in just experiencing with the senses but in absorbing with
the mind.
This section resolves into another thunderous full band
re-entry with crashing bass/drums setting up a portentious
slide guitar/keyboard riff, concluding with a frantic full-band
ramp up to the grand finale, with Anderson vocalizing over
the chorus, "Talk-Talk-Listening-Like a first sound-you start
to sing." Here the entire band pulls out all the stops, with
every musician pulling hard to create a plaintive edifice
for Jon's never-before-or-since emoting, "bring me back, bring
me back again…" and the killer line, "I've waited so long."
Simply printing the words here can hardly do justice to the
explosive impact this has in the context of this piece. In
a career with many triumphs, Anderson (or indeed the band)
has never shaken me as hard as they did here.
"Talk" was not a commercial success, and I must confess
that despite my own stunned admiration for this release I
opted to see Pink Floyd in summer '95 instead of Yes when
they toured with this album. I'll ALWAYS regret that. After
the tour ended, Trevor Rabin was out of the band, and Yes
hasn't come anywhere near to this level of excellence since
then, although I dutifully buy and listen to each succeeding
release. I hate to say it, but it appears to be all over for
them since "Talk," but I personally will always be grateful
that they peaked with such an incandescent flash of supernova
brilliance. I read somewhere that Jon Anderson feels they're
still capable of another "Close to the Edge" or "Fragile;"
like Jon, I don't want to believe that's not possible. But
I have to say that for me, those are the wrong targets to
shoot for, and the pinnacle of the band's career came in '94
when they put aside their rock star egos to follow the muse
of Rabin who had a better idea than they did of what the band
was artistically capable of.
GRADE: A
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