Yes
Yessongs

Of course, the album has already been reviewed once, but the thing is, I can't always listen to just avant-garde, electronic, free jazz, and ECM (I see you didn't quite like ‘Chartres’, and I somewhat understand you). So it happened that a few days ago, I came into possession for a few bucks of a mint copy of the original Yessongs vinyl, cover in excellent condition and discs intact. I won't tell you the joy, because you are enthusiasts like me and you know it. Now I have it on the turntable often and gladly, also to compare its sound with the digital version, and you can well understand why one would feel like reviewing such a thing.

In 1973, Yes was the progressive sensation of the moment, having placed three albums (the first two didn’t count) at the top of the genre for the expanse of musical vision, stunning technique, and a beautiful futuristic and ecological imagery created for them by the graphic genius of Roger Dean. Assembling the best prog lineup of all time (each musician was indisputably at the top for their instrument), the band quickly makes waves for symphonic suggestions, instrumental evolutions, celestial choirs, and above all for a rock energy that other progressive groups had only sporadically (Genesis, Van Der Graaf, Gentle Giant), this depending especially on the boldness of Steve Howe and Chris Squire.

The guitarist is indeed, with the obvious exception of Robert Fripp, the only one in this musical genre who hasn’t been confined behind keyboards, elsewhere absolute protagonists (and besides, keeping up with Wakeman is no small feat, let’s admit it). Listening to Steve Hackett's first three albums reveals how many great ideas have been subtracted from Genesis’ albums, and it's not Tony Banks' fault, who for a prog keyboardist is also quite shy, but due to the romantic genre that the five favored and which always greatly limited the guitar parts. Steve Howe instead works a lot on the electric guitar with his famous rhythmic-lead style, and just listen attentively to ‘Life Seeker’ (the first part of ‘Starship Trooper’) and tell me if you've ever heard a guitarist execute those arpeggio solos and chords with such fluidity (Steve is practically always soloing, but he also plays all the chords). Add good improvisation skills, and a growing ease with the folk genre and fingerpicking, and you have the absolute champion in the progressive field. As for Squire, endowed with an absolutely lavish technique for rock, his instrument is so ‘out there’ – each stunning bass line clearly audible even in the band’s ‘fortissimo’ – that it can be compared to John Bonham's famous sonic presence, all while Chris also provides the main vocal counterpoints to Anderson's angelic and high voice, another defining element of Yes' sound. It's not even worth talking about Wakeman, being notoriously the only contender for the keyboard throne alongside Emerson, except to mention the very elfin look he chooses to assume on stage in those years: sleek, very long blonde hair, a Gandalf-like tunic, a hieratic appearance. Stuff from the Seventies, indeed.

‘Yessongs’ sees the light right in the midst of a drummer changeover, and it could have been really a difficult moment for Yes, but they didn’t suffer at all, and we'll see how and why. Bill Bruford is universally known for being a monster of skill and famous for the dry style of his playing, tapping with the tip of the stick (in this he is the exact opposite of the aforementioned Bonzo) and is particularly suited for jazz rock style, even though in '77 he will excellently lend a hand on stage to Genesis of Phil Collins. In 1973 Bill has a different perception of his musical future and accepts the summons from the Crimson King himself, leaving Yes in trouble, but rock history will prove him right (Larks’ Tongues In Aspic is a masterpiece also for the particular work of the drums). In the midst of the ‘Close To The Edge’ tour, Yes have to find a substitute for the American concerts, and not just any substitute, because the drum parts are complex and the band certainly hasn’t accustomed their fans to slip-ups on stage. Alan White, who is also a good pianist, had at the time gained experience with Ginger Baker's Air Force, with John Lennon, and with George Harrison, and was on tour with Joe Cocker when he was contacted by Yes just before leaving for the States. Legend and chronology have it that Alan was able to perfectly learn the drum parts of the three studio albums in just three days, thus convincing them that the concert commitments could be splendidly honored. The result is all in this wonderful triple live: Alan is taken on probation for three months, but he now boasts forty-two years of uninterrupted service with Yes.

The album is released at the end of the tour, practically by popular demand because word had widely spread of the wonders on stage, and the band decides to pay tribute to Bruford’s contribution by including two performances from the ‘Fragile’ tour (‘Long Distance Runaround/The Fish’ and ‘Perpetual Change’, the latter featuring one of Bill’s rare drum solos). With the exception of a few scraps and solo sketches and ‘South Side Of The Sky’, which was also performed (I have the bootlegs) and must have been left out for space reasons, the setlist includes all the tracks from ‘Yes Album’, ‘Fragile’ and ‘Close To The Edge’ and adds the famous Intro taken from Stravinsky's Firebird (Jon Anderson is a fan of the Russian composer: hear what he sings before introducing Rick Wakeman), in addition to all the instrumental improvisations that a live from the Seventies cannot but include, especially if it is as mammoth as this.

There is still debate today whether the overall performance surpasses or falls short of the studio versions. On the side of the superiority of the live versions is the warm and compelling sound of the stage performances, compared to some slightly cooler tracks on the studio albums (this is particularly evident in the initial ‘Siberian Khatru’), while for other tracks - ‘Perpetual Change’, ‘Yours Is No Disgrace’ and ‘The Fish’ - the greater amount of music provided on stage (five/six minutes of excellent improvisations in addition to the famous, very long bass solo) decidedly tilts the comparison. Yes play wonderfully and are truly exciting, managing not just to optimally render the complex overdubs and effects of the studio tracks on stage but to provide them with the typical excitement of rock performances, despite being faced with true progressive symphonies. Steve Howe and Rick Wakeman stand out for the solo parts, one providing a beautiful acoustic guitar execution of ‘Mood For A Day’, the other condensing in six minutes some virtuosic highlights from the famous ‘Six Wives Of Henry VIII’, freshly printed and about to become an undisputed classic of the genre. Jon Anderson confirms on stage the mastery of a truly otherworldly voice, angelic and prodigious in timbre and octaves, which has the characteristic of seeming very thin in some passages and then soaring secure and very high (‘Sharp… Distance’) in a continuous search for the best contrast of styles, the power of rock, and the evanescence of a fairy tale, making a different way of singing Yes music practically impossible (I listen to the excellent ‘Drama’ and it makes me laugh, they openly try to repeat Anderson on an album that nevertheless changes quite a few coordinates in the Yessound).

And Alan White? The newcomer skillfully navigates the complex parts, time changes, and ‘suspended’ breaks typical of Yes, and is (incredibly) virtually indistinguishable from the noble predecessor save for a greater rock presence – a style more suited to concerts – which will be very handy in the long tours to come. What instead penalizes the final product is the quality of the live recordings, not exactly top-notch, but at the time the standard of ‘mobile recordings’ was more or less what it was. The attempt to capture both the musicians on stage and the concert atmosphere from the audience’s side evidently did not benefit from the best miking, concert mixers were far less sophisticated and often the sound leaked from all sides, making it very difficult to balance and equalize the final sound without resorting to drastically cutting the more invasive frequencies. Apart from ‘Pictures At An Exhibition’, ‘The Song Remains The Same’ and a few other fortunate outcomes (the Japanese live shows of Miles Davis), almost all historical live recordings from the Seventies suffer from inferior sound quality compared to studio, managing only occasionally to restore the spaciousness of live sound (compare them with Pat Metheny’s ‘Travels’, for example. A world of difference).

As customary in that period and according to the currents of taste, the audience doesn’t boo all the Yes sound magniloquence and interlocutory parts, the conclusion of Wakeman’s solo with sirens or the ‘ambient’ intro and bird chirping of Close To The Edge, for example: anyone else would have started ‘Solid Time Of Change’ with a double count in three-quarters and the guitar part, even ELP live cut the initial crescendo of Tarkus. Not them. The only ‘And You And I’ is modified in such a way that makes it, in my opinion, better than the original version, cutting the introduction of harmonics and arpeggio (which is nonetheless resumed later) and starting with the famous theme of ‘Eclipse’. The folk section is also rendered excellently, considering that the electric guitar effects at the time didn’t allow easy quick sound changes for acoustics, and compare Steve Howe with Paul Stanley, who in ‘Alive II’ doesn’t even try to avoid starting ‘I Want You’ with the overlapping electric sound. Steve does that and much more, my friends.

Given the high value of the Yes compositions captured in concert here as known and given, the last essential component of this fascinating triple vinyl is the complex cover created by Roger Dean, helped by the physical structure of the package which – having to hold three records – offers quite a significant gatefold surface to fill and decorate according to the typical Yes-design. It cannot be described in detail, you have to look it up online, knowing that the graphic themes partially continue those of ‘Fragile‘ and foreshadow the complexity of the cover of ‘Tales From The Topographic Oceans’. The suspended clods and daring spatial walkways would still represent a trademark for Yes from then on.

The conclusion is that ‘Yessongs’ is a stunning live album and a real manifesto of the period, among the best live albums of all time. Perfectly balanced between progressive intellectualism and rock enthusiasm, it offers great and engaging performances (the improvisations of ‘Yours Is No Disgrace’, the emotional finale of ‘Starship Trooper’), marvelous compositions, and an ecstatic display of competence and instrumental virtuosity, and a precious and refined packaging that makes it one of the most beautiful albums in the history of rock. I’ve listened to the vinyl several times now and I can say that the original sound was even better than the various digital transfers, which often have the flaw of enriched frequencies in an unnatural way and not at all interwoven with the overall sound’s richness, resulting often in a mere re-equalization of the tracks, and if you listen to the 180 gr. pressings they are even superior to the digital frequencies (‘Trans Europe Express’, for example).