There are very few times that I take pleasure in savaging a long time favorite band in print. But the plethora of stellar reviews for the dreadful Heaven and Earth album from 2014 (unfortunately Chris Squire’s final legacy) boggled the mind. So this review was written more in response to the addled would be Amazon reviewers than for any inherent axe to grind with Yes. That axe had unfortunately been dulled heavily in the last two decades. Anyway, this is written for those who thought this is “a fine album”.
Here is one question for the (at this point) one hundred different five star reviewers of this album: How many stars would Fragile get? Seventeen? How many for Close to the Edge? Thirty two? Folks who throw five star reviews around willy-nilly need to take a breath, and realize they are not really reviewers, but cheerleaders. And hey, that’s ok. I love Yes. Seen them every tour since 1977. But if this is a good Yes album, I am apparently stone deaf. I saw Jon Davison twice on this past tour, and he is a very nice replacement for Jon Anderson-gauzy shirts, ethereal voice, cosmic references. But as long as Jon Anderson is on earth and breathing, it is hard to take this band seriously. The last tours were full versions of Close to the Edge, The Yes Album and Going For the One. Davison acquitted himself respectfully, more Jon Anderson than Benoit David’s take on Drama was. Yet the previous vocalist managed to get some life out of these guys, where on this record, the band literally sleep walks through a mind numbing embarrassment of stuporific elevator music.
The list of the guilty is large. First up-Roy Thomas Baker, of Queen fame at the production helm. Those Yes fans who are hard core will remember him as the producer of the failed follow up to Tormato in 1979, an album that wasted months of time, thousands of dollars, and miles of recording tape better left untouched. Some of that ended up as a blueprint for a wispy Jon Anderson solo album, but the main result of this collaboration was a hugely acrimonious break up of one of the most legendary prog bands of the seventies, and no album.
The production here is demo level and sounds hurried and murky-drums in the background, Squire’s bass varying from inaudible to middling, but always on cruise control. Howe is hard to gauge, more a background coloring than the forceful disciple of Chet Atkins and maniacal fretboard wizard of the seventies that topped ‘best guitarist’ polls on both sides of the pond. Downes has a distinct lack of imagination in his keyboards, although he may be trying to inject some 70’s authenticity and sacrificed the rest to the gods. Davison sounds as bright and excited as anyone who just joined his dream band would. But inexplicably he has co writer in credit on most of the album. And though vocally a fine performer, lyrics are not his strength. Subway Walls has flickers of the Yes we knew and loved, but is written by Davison and Downes. Squire and Howe have nothing to say musically any more? Seriously a sad state of affairs for such a beloved band. Yes, we may have unreasonable expectations, but this falls off a cliff and drags everyone with it. Safe, saccharine, pop soft rock cliched trite unchallenging slow tempo poorly produced AOR bland unambitious easy listening. This is a compendium of various comments and reviews of this album. Does that sound like a Yes album you cannot wait to hear? If Open Your Eyes was a two star affair, let me be clear: this would rate a zero on that scale.
One reviewer put it this way-if Starcastle was several degrees away from Yes, this album is several degrees away from Starcastle. If you are a long term Yes fan, let that last sentence guide you.
In summation, this is the worst album they have ever released, by a longshot. If you enjoy watching disasters unfold, jump aboard. If you love Yes as much as many of the reviewers here do? Mourning is upon us. The gates of delirium have slammed shut.