Frequent exposure to Close To The Edge while I was in the
Sixth Form at Forest Lodge School converted me into a prog rock fan[1],
yet prior to this week I had seen Yes play live only once. That was in October
1978 when they played in the round, on a revolving stage, at Wembley during
their Tormatour. That night there was a distinct smell in the arena, the sort
of aroma that only comes from the sort of cigarette not stocked by your corner
tobacconist. This week at the Royal Albert Hall the drugs of choice for the
audience - many of whom, like me, had probably been at Wembley 38 years ago - was
more likely statins or anti-inflammatory's.
Inexplicably I didn't try for tickets when Yes toured a
couple of years back playing Close To The Edge (which has been a constant
favourite of mine since I learned to love it in 1976) however when I learned
that they were touring again, playing both Fragile and Drama in their entirety,
I bought a ticket. That was last June, and less than a fortnight later Yes bass
guitarist and founder member Chris Squire sadly died. There are now no longer any
founder members of Yes in the current line up; Steve Howe, who joined the band
in 1970, two years after Squire and Jon Anderson had formed the group, remains
the longest serving member.
This begs the question, are they still Yes? The ship of
Theseus, also known as Theseus' paradox, is a thought experiment that asks if
an object has had all of its components replaced, does it remain the same
object? The original question was, does a ship which has been restored by
replacing each and every one of its wooden parts remain the same ship? Latterly,
the paradox cropped up in an episode of Only Fools and Horses in which Trigger
wins an award for having owned the same broom for 20 years, but which he says
has had 17 new heads and 14 new handles during that time. So, if all the
original members of a band have been replaced, are they still the same band? Given
that Yes have evolved, that the line up has altered fluidly over the last 48
years rather than changing explosively in a much shorter space of time, I think
we can say, yes, they are the same band.
Tuesday's show opened with a lone bass guitar standing in
the spotlight on stage as a recording of Onward was played to an accompaniment
of images of Chris Squire on the screen behind before the band took to the
stage and launched into Machine Messiah, the opening track from their 1980
album, Drama -which they proceeded to play in full. My memory of the release of
Drama was that is was a somewhat controversial album, as following the
departure of keyboard virtuoso Rick Wakeman and vocalist Jon Anderson, the
remaining members were joined by Trevor Horn and Geoff Downes formerly of The
Buggles. Some Yes fans were, I am sure, horrified that the partnership that
recorded Video Killed The Radio Star had joined the band - think Harry Styles
and Niall Horan from One Direction replacing Mick Jagger and Keith Richards in
the Rolling Stones - but Drama was a better album than some had expected, and
having heard it live on Tuesday, I can say that it has clearly stood the test
of time. And being played live brought out the album's aggression and drive
that was especially showcased by Squire's bass playing on record and which
Billy Sherwood captured perfectly on stage.
 |
| Chris Squire. Photo: yesworld.com |
In fact, Sherwood was probably star of the show. Despite
having big shoes to fill in place of Squire, he was superb - but then he isn't
a Yes novice, he first played with the band in 1994 and has filled several
different roles in the years since. The bass on Starship Trooper, the song from
The Yes Album that was performed as the encore, reverberated round the Royal
Albert Hall. The depth of sound, and that auditorium has probably the best
acoustics of any venue I have visited, was such that it had a very real
physical presence.
Trevor Horn's guest appearance to sing on Tempus Fugit (the
worst kept secret of the year) concluded the first portion of the show, and
then it was on to Fragile (via a few "greatest hits"). Of the
so-called greatest hits only Owner of A Lonely Heart can really be called a
"hit" in the hit single sense, but the song I enjoyed the most from
this part of the set was Siberian Khatru, making me rue even more my decision
not to get tickets when Yes played Close To The Edge.
Fragile, although considered more of a classic Yes album
than Drama, has always seemed a bit of a Curate's egg to me. Roundabout, South
Side Of The Sky, Mood For A Day and Heart of The Sunrise stand comparison with
anything Yes have ever produced, but I have always thought that I could live
without We Have Heaven and The Fish (Schindleria Praematurus), while Five Per
Cent For Nothing is frankly a waste of space - fortunately it is a short waste
of space as it lasts only 35 seconds. However, The Fish was Chris Squire's solo
contribution to the album, and that makes it worthy of reconsideration. Having
played Fragile again recently, I realise that my previous disregard for The
Fish was unworthy, and yet again on stage Billy Sherwood more than did justice
to Squire's memory. Live -and on record - the high spots from Fragile eclipse those
from Drama, but remarkably the latter album proved that when played live it is
no lightweight. It seemed as much pop as prog, a sort of Yes Lite, when first
released, but this performance of it was quite superb.
The idea of bands playing the whole of classic albums in one
show has become increasingly popular in recent years; cynics might call it milking
the last drop of revenue out of old material because bands are unable to come
up with anything new. On the other hand, there's obviously plenty of demand for
these shows and the chance to see classic albums performed in their entirety
usually means seeing some tracks played live for the first time. Mind you, I
understand that Tales from Topographic Oceans may be the next Yes album to get
the live treatment and that one is going to divide opinion (I'll be giving it a
miss).
Coming away from the Royal Albert Hall, which one would be
hard pressed to better as a venue for live music (although I still think that
the Hammersmith Odeon, or whatever it calls itself these days, remains my
favourite), something occurred to me. Apart from the obvious, that audiences at
concerts by bands of such longevity as Yes tend to be comprised mainly of
people of what can only be called late middle age (assuming we all live to be
110), it is a rare prog rock show that does not feature an extended drum solo.
And then I realised that the date was exactly three years
since I saw Steve Hackett's Genesis Revisited show at the Hammersmith Odeon - 10th
May is patently prog rock day - I wonder who's live in London on that day next
year?
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