Review 41, Fragile, Yes, 1971




Usually I try to avoid the line of
thinking that a band has a magnum opus period and everything before
that is building up to it. However, I can't help it here.
Cape-wearing keyboardist Rick Wakeman appears to have been the
missing piece in the Yes puzzle. Not only are his distinctive,
intelligently used and manifold keyboards perfect for the
Squire-Howe-Bruford-Anderson sound in a way that Kaye's organ simply
wasn't, but he also provides the compositional/arrangement edge that
Yes desperately needed, adding flawless bridges and banishing any
temptations to step down from a song's overall flow with a bit of TYA
bombast. Now, onto the album, the group pieces are exceptional,
intelligent, well-timed and absolutely wonderful. The solo pieces are
a more mixed bag. This is more than essential, but not consistent
enough for a masterpiece.
I'm going to start this review with
South Side Of The Sky, because it is, in my humble opinion, the best
thing that Yes have ever done, and one of the greatest ever
progressive pieces. A biting, suicidal energy, a bleak, tragic
beauty, incredible playing and atmosphere, fantastic lyrics from Jon
Anderson and a sense of deeper connection that I have had with only a
very few other pieces.
During a walk earlier this year, I was
walking on Kinder Downfall or some other such 600M+
near-mini-mountain in the lovely Peak or Lake District (my memory is
vague). There were substantial windspeeds (50-60 mph, could well have
been less, if I remember), I was poorly waterproofed, rain soaked me
to the skin, jumper, three shirts, coat, hat, coat hood, gloves all
drenched. Even changes of gloves, hat and jumper weren't a big help.
Hail and sleet followed the rain as I got progressively more tired,
and eventually we were on the exposed part of the rocky
near-mountain, with a sheer slope on one side. Every bone in my body
was freezing, I felt a need to carry on, manically, and place one
foot in front of the other, interspersed with moments of resignation.
It is easily the most uncomfortable I have ever been in my life
(sheltered though it's been). An unforgettable experience.
What
Yes have done in South Side Of The Sky is unwittingly convert that
experience into music. Every note of that song conveys something to
me, as does every lyrical line and repeat. For music as a form of
pure expression and imagery, it does not get better for me, and I'm
certain that the experience of discomfort in the, at that time,
less-than-entirely-delightful British countryside of February or
March 2008 is something to do with that.
Whirling winds open the song, and
Bruford explodes in with a percussion solo. Howe appears similarly
out of nowhere as Wakeman's synth oscillates. An organ comes in,
accompanied by Squire's throbbing bass, and Howe gives the song a
number of edges that reflect the adrenaline as well as the
desperation. Bruford continues to crash intelligently throughout the
piece, providing metallic clashes and a number of drum choices.
Wakeman leaps around keyboards throughout the piece, providing
several atmospheric touches as well as his more conventional organ.
Throughout, Anderson gives us brilliant, descriptive and narrative
lyrics, telling the story of doomed polar expedition. His vocals do
not disappoint, only concentrate the atmosphere that everyone else
has been building.
We get one of my all-time favourite
piano solos (I have a lot of them) from Wakeman, who gives us a
haunting edge, a feeling of the real cold of the place and the
descent into death as well as a contrast to the density of the rest
of the piece. He is gradually joined by Bruford and Squire as well as
multiple clever individual vocals. It returns to the piano solo, and
a humming synth meets it. Bruford bursts in with monstrous timing,
Howe provides several guitar parts with the feel of death and loss of
control very much in there and Anderson's sustained vocals are simply
perfect. Another wuthering synth ends the piece. The piece is
perfect. The rest of the album is not South Side Of The Sky,
unfortunately.
Roundabout was initially a bit of an
enigma for me. I can appreciate all the components and the
arrangement is superbly done. A haunting synth and Steve Howe's
gorgeous, dark classical guitar give way to Squire's lightning-fast
leading bass. Bruford thuds on behind with a rock beat contrasted
with some clever variation, and Howe moves between the background and
the foreground flawlessly. Wakeman provides excellent organ, and the
Anderson-Squire-Howe harmony vocals come into their own. Bruford
provides some hollower and unusual percussion in a darker, more
packed section with a clever Howe-Wakeman duet. We get a superb organ
solo from the Caped One, and Howe also gives us a couple of brief
ideas. The band are able to repeat the same basic ideas with a
completely altered feel, creating a masterful song, as well as
providing us with a superb range of ideas in the eight minute or so
period of time. An incredible song, but one that didn't originally
grab me on an emotional level. I've since revised this opinion.
The cheerful Long Distance Run-Around,
with its bouncy feel, basic-riff-reliance and multiple clever parts,
is very much the successor of A Venture. It is, however, miles better
than its predecessor, with Wakeman's spinning Moog providing some
variety, and the opportunities for the band to burst out a little
much welcomed. Squire is a standout throughout, with his bass
suddenly providing a texture or a brief spray of notes.
Heart Of The Sunrise, as a contrast to
the preceding Mood For A Day, begins with a surprisingly savage burst
of energy from Bruford, Wakeman and Howe. Squire and Bruford work
around each other masterfully in a darker, slower, more haunting
piece, with a lead bass part, amazing drumming and a haunting
mellotron from The Caped One. Howe again brings the piece into its
frenzied, heavy section with Moog and later organ additions used
brilliantly, and then back down into a gentle echo of the earlier
haunting section and a soft electric with Anderson's vocals. After
these three minutes of absolutely brilliant sonic battery, Anderson's
voice with its beauty, but yet rather careful edge and lyrical hooks
and ideas, is even better placed. Squire provides some lead bass,
Bruford plays around with his drumkit, and Wakeman's set of Moog and
piano provide a lot of different ideas. Howe is able to return to the
mix effortlessly, and leave it with just as little fuss. Wakeman,
Squire and Howe exchange ideas in a cooler, less manic variation on
the opening chaos and a careful piano leads us down into another
jumpy vocal with a bass humming along behind. The majestic
conclusion, with a mock-triumphant, yet lost vocal from Anderson
leads up to a squirreling Howe disappearing. Up 'til now, a perfect
piece, with ideas oozing from every corner, versatility, clever
essential repeats. The door creaks open and suddenly we get a repeat
of ****ing We Have Heaven. The song was perfect. Why did they have to
go and butcher it with that ending?
I doubt that Yes would have been create
any one of these pieces without Rick Wakeman. Much as more than a few
people worship the jazzy overtones of Moraz (who is, I admit an
excellent player) or the blocky organ of Tony Kaye (which is
basically the same on half of The Yes Album), but I cannot see either
of them ever creating these amazing pieces. The Caped One deserves
all the fawning worship-threads he gets, in my opinion.
Onto the solo pieces:
Rick Wakeman's Cans And Brahms is
essentially playing Brahms ' on all sorts of keyboardy instruments.
The sleeve notes say exactly which. I don't particularly care either
way about it. It's good enough, not particularly annoying in the
contest, and has a good whimsical feel.
We Have Heaven is not so neutral. It
features multiple Anderson vocals over a consistent guitar riff and
some other additions from various features. It's amazing how annoying
the merge of Anderson-related noises gets after a minute or so. The
lyrics are pretty mindless. The door shutting followed by running is
a precursor to the end of Heart Of The Sunrise.
5% for Nothing is a forgettable piece of nonsense from Bruford. Don't really object to it, but it says something that I didn't remember to include this when I wrote the review...
Squire's Schindleria Praematurus
(The Fish) is a little more substantial than the previous solo
pieces, with a number of bizarre bass parts merging into each other
very well and Bruford trundling along behind with tappings on various
things. A harmony accompanies the piece as it fades. I'm not mad
about this one, since I feel the individual parts are rather too
repeated. It feels more like overdubbed bass parts than an actual
arranged and clever multiple-bass piece. The other thing is, as a
bass performance, it's seriously over-rated. The idea is innovative
and does spotlight the bass, but the playing and thought behind the
piece isn't even in the same league as Heart Of The Sunrise, America
or Roundabout, in my opinion.
Mood For A Day is the reason the solo
pieces were worth including. Howe provides a gorgeous, emotional
classicaly-inspired solo guitar, with a combination of lead melodies,
backing notes throughout and some intelligently-used strumming.
Uplifting and beautiful, as well as being wonderfully titled.
Onto the bonus material:
The
longer Yes version of Simon And Garfunkel's America was a great
choice with Squire's throbbing bass, Wakeman's multiplicity of
keyboards and Bruford's innovations and general crashing showing off
themselves nicely. Anderson provides his own feel for the lyrics. The
combination of softer and louder sections works very neatly, and it
gives Howe the opportunities to chord out a lot as well as handle
some brief and extended soloing with great relish. A great cover. I
didn't really need the extra version of Roundabout, but it's a nice
conclusion for the album as a whole, so I can live with it. Jon
Anderson forgets some of the lyrics, it seems (or decides not to add
them in), which is quite funny, and Bruford provides a more rocking
performance, which is interesting. In brief, not a terrible pick as a
bonus track.
This album, even if I could have done
without some parts of it and don't really care for the conclusion to
Heart Of The Sunrise myself, is absolutely essential to any fan of
progressive rock. This is an incredible step forwards from The Yes
Album, and at its high points a match for Close To The Edge. It is a
shame that a few choices in the solo ideas, and that damnable end to
Heart Of The Sunrise make the album less fun to listen to as a whole.
Rating: Four Stars. The group ideas are
brilliant, the solo ideas don't convince me.
Favourite Track: South Side Of The Sky
---
Avant-garde arrangement, AND you get a personal anecdote at no extra cost (and I attacked Schindleria Praematurus). There's a first time for everything, right. Naturally, opinions welcome, and I'm interested in anyone else's contrary thoughts.
General Yes discussion now (general guidelines, any discussion beats no discussion):
Does anyone believe that Yes with Kaye had anywhere near such a potent future or could have done some form of those longer pieces (and why)? When do Yes take off for you? What effect did Capeman's leaving/arrival have on the band? Are there any reviews of specific Yes albums that you think are *just* perfect? etc. Anything goes. I'm going to be continuing the series up until Relayer, I think, though I might try to make some sense of GFTO as well.
--
New listen: If I Could Do It All Over Again was very good. No idea what I'd rate it at, or really about specific tracks other than thingummy with the name in it.
Edit: Argh. Extra star syndrome.

Forgot 5% for nothing. heh. Fixed.
Edited by TGM: Orb - May 23 2008 at 13:52