Sure Bryan Adams sings about how great summer of ‘69 was, but it really wasn’t that great at all, hence the stereotype that Canadians cannot be trusted. See, in the summer of ‘69 the great genre we know as progressive had still not fully evolved into the beautiful beast it was in the 70s. Genesis were Bee Gees wannabes, Pink Floyd were busy playing quirky post-psychedelic songs, and King Crimson were the only band with enough balls to make a real prog record. And the most pretentious, over the top, mystical and cheesy band we know as Yes had not yet started making 20 minutes epics.
Yes shows the band in its embryonic stage, virtuoso guitarist Steve Howe or keyboardist Rick Wakeman still hadn’t joined.
The result of Howe’s and Wakeman’s absence is a considerably less powerful band. Most of the focus, mainly due to the amateur production, is on Bill Bruford’s drums. Not a bad thing, any drummer who’s played in King Crimson obviously has some chops, but the crunching, raw sound of Bill’s drum doesn’t go well with the soft sound of the other instruments. The other well known super-human player in Yes is bassist Chris Squire, who did play on this album. Instead of playing his bass like a lead instrument with a crisp sound like in later Yes albums, he’s kept low in the mix throughout the album, the bass not very prominent or interesting. All the musicians are clearly inexperienced, but still create some great instrumentals.
The songs range from short poppy songs, to less typically structured songs leading to swirling, fast-paced jams. The jams are pretty simple, keeping to their principle of playing simple blues-based music intertwined with melodic psychedelic pop.
I See You however, breaks into a manic jazz jam lead by Peter Banks’ guitar while Bruford really shows his talents at drums, showing the band’s capabilities. Unfortunately the song’s jam is the only interesting part of it, the rest of I See You being a slow song with Jon Anderson’s annoyingly overdubbed vocals driving the musically and melodically dead song.
Harold Land is the only song to show any of that signature lively, crunchy bass playing from Chris Squire. It continues shows more of what we could expect from Yes in the future; beginning with an upbeat organ and bass driven intro that slowly becomes more and more textural before the song turns into a melancholic sounding, piano driven, slow section, still maintaining it’s texture. But the art of tempo shifts and Progishness on
Yes climaxes at the most adventurous Beatles cover ever,
Every Little Thing. Every member flexes their chops in the songs, the song unusually heavy and hectic for the album. One would never guess it’s a Beatles cover (let’s see that little bi
tch Ringo drum like this!) until Banks sneaks in the
Day Tripper riff in the song. The start-stop tempo and quick music transitions are classic symptoms of Yesitus, the disease of rocking out uncontrollably in progressive fashion (other symptoms may include impotence and dry mouth.)
Despite a few shining moments that hint to prog rock’s future, the album is pretty laid back. The song’s are mostly stylings of Simon & Garfunkel married with fast paced Blues influenced 60s rock, a bit like early Jethro Tull. The album falls flat on some moments, melodies aren’t interesting enough to back up the earnest instrumentation. It’s an overall uninteresting listen for those of us who like the monstrous, complex songs of
Close to the Egde and
Relayer, teetering way to much between early progressive/early hard rock and melodic 60s pop rock. Yes covered way too many musical bases for their debut, but
Yes is a good start for the boys nonetheless.
I in advance do not apologize for any mental/emotional anguish caused to Ringo Starr and/or his management.
