FISH OUT OF WATER

Much has been said in earlier reviews of the origins of this album -- basically, everyone in the former and current Yes lineup took time to record solo albums of their own. What's unusual is that almost all of the albums recorded by the various musicians stand up well on their own, and are, if not all necessities, are well worth owning by prog fans in general and Yes fans in particular. Jon Anderson's "Olias of Sunhillow" is a magnificent prog album in its own right, and a rare showcase of Anderson's instrumental capabilities (who knew he could play such lovely keyboards?). Former drummer Bill Bruford, after a famous stint in King Crimson, stretched his jazz sensibilities in 78's "Feels Good to Me" as a prelude to an entire career of jazz-prog music, both solo and with various bands and sidemen. Current drummer Alan White showed a range of musical preferences in "Ramshackled," and stellar guitarist Steve Howe turned in an interesting, if patchy, album, "Beginnings," featuring some nice classical guitar and a couple of badly sung, stiffy performed rock tracks. Former keyboardist Rick Wakeman cut the epic "Six Wives of Henry VIII," and then-current keyboardist Patrick Moraz gave us the fascinatingly eclectic "Story of I," with progressive, jazz, Latin/Caribbean, and soulful influences. To my mind, Anderson's and Wakeman's albums are the ones that bear up best on repeated listenings, along with Squire's "Fish Out of Water" and to a lesser extent Moraz's album.

"Fish" is, like the albums from Anderson and Wakeman, sometimes referred to as "the lost Yes album." Not true. Squire's album is far more personal and subdued than the two Yes albums that preceded "Fish," "Tales from Topographic Oceans" and "Relayer." Squire eschews extended solos from any band member and steers clear of the sometimes-magnificient, sometimes-bombastic sound of his band to give us a quieter, thoughtful, often lovely album. The first track, "Hold Out Your Hand," is possibly an attempt at getting radio play (I've seen a truly embarrassing "music video" of the song, probably from Kirschner's show, with a berobed Squire hopping about alone on a near-bare stage with the other musicians tucked away almost off-camera), but is very listenable, catchy without being boring or annoying. "You By My Side" starts off rather badly, with an unengaging rock beginning and unconvincing rockish vocals from Squire (whose voice bears an uncomfortable resemblance to Ozzy Osbourne's for a stretch), but slides into an easy mellow-rock groove. The third track is the first of the album's two epics, "Silently Falling," a piano- and orchestral-based piece beautifully arranged by pianist and orchestra master Andrew Pryce Jackman. The midtempo "Lucky Seven" features some lovely, late-night jazzy saxophone by the renowned King Crimson and studio stalwart Mel Collins. The last track, "Safe (Canon Song)" is a beautifully stately prog epic that again features lovely keyboards and orchestration. Squire's vocals, while not the equal of bandmate Anderson's, generally work well in the songs; Squire rarely tries for something he's not capable of, and rides well atop the music without going over the edge. Bill Bruford's drumming, like all the instrumentation on the album, is perfect in its virtuosity and restraint. Jackman, a classically trained pianist, handles his keyboards with ease, and the often-flamboyant Patrick Moraz keeps himself in check, adding lovely but never intrusive organ and synths (Barry Rose contributes some elegant pipe organ). Squire plays what little guitar is on the album himself, relying on his muscular, melodic bass and the various keyboards, horns, and orchestration to carry the music. Squire's lyrics are always more down-to-earth than the impressionist, mystical musings of Anderson, mostly love songs and rather simplistic philosophical meanderings. But few fans listen to either this album or the Yes catalog for their lyrics.

We can forgive instrumental virtuosos like Squire when they record solo albums that throw their virtuosity in your face, the "look at me, I can play the living hell out of this instrument" album that places solo expertise above the quality of the songs themselves. Squire, to his immense credit, never does this. He understands the role of his bass guitar as essentially a backing instrument, and though he displays plenty of chops, his bass never outstrips the rest of the musicians. He is the frontman, both vocally and with his bass, but he is always careful to stay within the bounds of the songs, never abandoning the song structure for pointless soloing. You never get the feeling that Squire wanted to make this album because he wanted to show Yes fans that he could do more than the band would allow. Instead, you get an album of five beautifully performed, organically constructed songs that wouldn't fit in the normal Yes oeuvre. I admire this album as much for what Squire doesn't do as for what he does give us. (If you listen closely, you will be absolutely floored by the technical prowess of Squire on that famous Ricky. But you have to listen -- he doesn't slap you around with it.)

Bruford once said of Squire, "He represents pretty much everything I don't represent in music. He's a difficult guy. He's slow, pedantic, very politically-orientated, he doesn't generate that much music and he certainly doesn't generate it easily. It's all a long, drawn-out, slow process. So, he's not my favorite musician to work with. ...Not my bass player of choice." I admire Bruford unrestrainedly, but while Squire may not make music the way Bruford would like, this album shows just what Squire can do when he's allowed to do what he likes. (To Bruford's credit, he said later he was having "a bad day" during that interview. Maybe his view of Squire isn't quite so harsh...?) Critics may see this album as slow and pedantic. Me, I'd describe it as balanced, restrained, and beautiful. It wears well. Enough said -- just go buy it, if you can find it.