Yes - Close to the Edge

As a teenager I knew more about Yes from their Roger Dean album covers than I did about their music. When I eventually upgraded my old Sound in the Round record player to a stereo that could go loud in the late '70s, the receiver also had a built-in 8-track player.

While never a fan of the fade-out and click in the middle of a song, I did have a couple of cartridges I'd picked up, and I actually had a copy of Fragile, that I have no recollection of getting. I played it a few times and remember not getting it at all - although "Roundabout" was as awesome as it was perplexing. Then the tape got eaten and that was that, and I didn't really think about Yes until the fall of 1983, when the radio station across the line played this weirdly cool song called "Owner of a Lonely Heart" by ... Yes.

Well, I remember thinking, "That was cool."

However, the classic Howe lineup wasn't my jam. I liked the Trevor Rabin era, and am still partial to his work with the band. Besides, I have the first two Asia albums if I want to listen to Steve Howe. Still, over the years I gained a better understanding of Yes, and while I cannot be considered a connoisseur of progressive rock, I've heard enough bits and pieces by the band that when I found a copy of Close to the Edge in the dollar bin, I didn't hesitate. I picked it up to make sure it wasn't a complete waste of time and brought it home. It's too bad that the original liner notes with the lyrics were missing. I suppose I'd need to spend more than a buck if I want everything.

This was the band's fifth studio album and would be the last one to feature Bill Bruford on percussion. The rest of the classic lineup was present: vocalist Jon Anderson, Steve Howe on guitar, the amazing Chris Squire on bass and the ever-theatrical Rick Wakeman on keyboards.

The '70s were a great time for music. I mean, this was a hit record, going platinum in Canada, the UK and the States. Seriously, this album had three tracks, and one of them took up an entire side, and it was still a hit. Granted, the songs were broken into movements, but goodness gracious, man, this was music that was intended to be listened to, and listened to with intent - or on a good pair of headphones. I opted for loud when no one else was home.

Fifty years on, I'm spinning this for the first time (by the time you read this, and I finish writing, I'll have played this a few times), and the first thing I need to address is my dismissive and snarky opinion of Steve Howe's playing. I think much of my general ambivalence came from the guitar solo from Asia's 1982 song "Heat of the Moment," a song I have a love-hate relationship with. It contains one of the worst fingers-stuck-in-the-strings guitar solos that puts anything ever played by Mick Jones from Foreigner to shame, and Mick could really get his fingers stuck under the strings. In fairness, I love Mick's guitar work and how it sounds like it was painful to play.

Needless to say, I just figured Steve Howe was overrated.

Having just listened to the first side, Steve Howe was a different player altogether. The stuff he'd come up with and the way he'd structure his parts is nothing short of, well - genius. I think because his playing would sometimes sound heavy-handed and not always smooth and fluid, I mistook that for a lack of musicality.

I was wrong, and I am sorry.

If you're looking for an album with sing-along songs and catchy hooks then, like Obi-Wan said to the Storm Troopers, "These aren't the songs you're looking for." Yes didn't fart around writing jingles, they composed.

Getting back to the task at hand. The first side is the title track, "Close to the Edge," and over the next twenty minutes navigates through the four parts of the song. The first part, "The Solid Time of Change," starts with a long instrumental introduction before Jon sings. This is going to be a lot to take in.

"Total Mass Retain" is the second part, but things really get going with "I Get Up I Get Down" when Rick Wakeman's organ interlude kicks in, and it's jaw-dropping. Then the music goes a little goofy, at least to me, and then re-centres itself and works up a smokin' groove as the song enters the final movement, "Seasons of Man." By the time Jon joins the band and starts to bring everything back together with callbacks to previous lyrical passages, the song reaches a marvellous crescendo and then crossfades the birdsong to the foreground and the piece ends.

That went by much faster than I thought.

That was awesome, aside from that one cheesy bit after that killer organ interlude, but it was done before it got irritating.

Okay let's flip this over and see what the other two songs have in store.

Side two starts off with "And You and I," where Steve Howe starts off with a solo acoustic guitar and a series of harmonics before being joined by Jon and Chris. The first section, titled "Cord of Life," is a nice piece. Sadly, this is where the damage to my vinyl was pretty evident, and there are a few seconds where the distortion and rash make it hard to listen to. Oddly, for all the dollar records I've found, I've rarely had one like this. Dang.

The second movement, "Eclipse," felt like a continuation of the first, mainly as it was instrumental, but with "The Preacher The Teacher," the band blends the acoustic and the spacey, and this is really cool. The song concludes with the short coda "Apocalypse," closing out the first ten minutes.

The album closes out with probably my favourite piece on the album, "Siberian Khatru," that just screams classic Yes. Big soaring vocals, a wicked locked-in groove with Chris Squire and Bill Bruford just driving the song and setting the tone for the rest to follow. Steve Howe shows off his dexterity and ability to play with atonal passages and tie them together into a melody that plays alongside the song, not to mention the main riff to the song is wonderful. Then, of course, Rick Wakeman provides all kinds of textures from harpsichord to organ-like strings.

The song is just under nine minutes, but it could have been stretched out if the band had wanted to milk it. This is about as straight-on a rock song as you'll get here.

For my dollar, I got more than my money's worth. The first side cleaned up much better than I expected, and when I put the needle down there were no clicks and pops and crackles prior to the birds chirping. There were one or two pops, but nothing too distracting. Sadly, on the second side, that looked iffy even before I tried to clean it up, there was enough rash to make the second verse and part of the chorus on "Cord of Life" kind of rough to listen to, which sucked. Thankfully, the rest of the side was good.

All in all, a great surprise and a lot of fun. I have had to reevaluate some old prejudices. Of course, if you think progressive rock is just needless wanking and a lot of unnecessary dissonance disguised as artistic expression, I'm going to go out on a limb and suggest this isn't your cup of tea.

To end on a pedantic note, I wonder if Roger meant to omit the dash between Bill Bruford and Percussion.