THE WORD IS LIVE

It was my second YES show. The first came earlier that year, at the Miami Baseball Stadium, home to one of the first U.S. Tales From Topographic Oceans shows, where the band performed both Close To The Edge and Tales in their entirety. So from February to November, YES went from play all of Tales to playing all of Relayer, and of course, they went from Rick Wakeman to Patrick Moraz.

Having only been at my school for a couple of months and being relatively shy and even a bit shell-shocked, I didn’t know of any other YES fans or anyone who might have wanted to attend the concert. So I was somewhat lost” already as I boarded a Greyhound for Atlanta. I was already experiencing a strong element of what literary theorists call “defamiliarization,” which isn’t alienation, exactly, but there’s still a sense of being soi distant, or distant from oneself. (This is all “screen” too, because I’m sure terms like defamiliarization and soi distant were foreign to the 1974 me.)

But it was quite jarring back then to hear the music of Relayer, jarring and fantastic – astounding, really – and that I’ll never forget. It was the music, that new and completely unexpected music, that made a deep impression. I remember that YES also performed selections from other albums, like “Close To The Edge” and “Ritual.” I even recall actual scenes from the latter: for instance, the timpani being wheeled out for Chris Squire during the percussion section, and the giant “crab” thing that opened over Patrick Moraz’s keyboards at the conclusion.

Perhaps only a YES fan can appreciate this, and perhaps only a YES fan of a certain generation, but I was struck by the fact that Graeme Taylor, Gryphon’s guitarist, used a Fender Telecaster, and then I was blown away when Steve Howe played one on YES‘ opening number. I think it was quite common in the early 1970s to identify Fender players with a more blues and straight-ahead rock’n’roll sound, and to identify Gibson guitarists with a more classical-music and jazz style. Certainly Howe had done a good deal to create this impression with his use of many Gibson hollow-bodies, especially his magnificent ES-175. But it was a Tele he wielded on “Sound Chaser,” exploiting the instrument’s sound at its farthest reaches of piercing treble.

Everything about that song was pushed to the limit: its fragmentary, very avant opening; the incredibly breakneck pace of the opening riff (which reminds me of that line “on the back of your 40-second screamdown,” from “On The Silent Wings Of Freedom“); the dazzling electric independence of the lyrics; and then one of those sudden suspension effects where everything seemed to drop out except Squire, who continues with that crazy, pulsating-yet-also-machine-gun riff on his Rickenbacker – and then things get even more bizarre! For now we have a truly strange piece of music, a kind of classical guitar solo executed on the steeliest and trebliest of Telecasters, accompanied by Patrick Moraz’s Mellotron running through a phaser and Alan White playing timpani.

I’ve only described the first couple of minutes of the concert, but imagine hearing this piece for the first time. Still to come was the freaky cha-cha-cha vocal section and the extremely syncopated bass and drums of Squire and White beneath a funky, Herbie Hancock-style synth solo from Moraz (who had plenty of warped keyboard tricks in store that night). So many musical worlds had already opened that YES almost could have walked off after their opening number!

In my screen memory I thought the group continued with the rest of Relayer, so this at least I checked. I was wrong. They played “Close To The Edge,” then followed with “To Be Over” and “Gates Of Delirium” – truly a concert of epics, which was basically my YES experience in those days. “To Be Over” is one of those beautiful “sleeper” songs that YES has here and there, all the way from “A Venture” (The Yes Album) to “Foot Prints” (Keys To Ascension 2) It features some brilliant eclecticism, especially with Steve Howe’s opening nautical theme on electric sitar, followed by the Telecaster’s return on a wonderfully crunchy, country-inflected solo. And yet probably everything I “remember” about the live performance of “To Be Over” is something created on the “screen” after many sessions with the Relayer album. This is not true of “Gates Of Delirium,” however. That memory remains quite vivid, perhaps most of all because of the aforementioned “chrome” element.

It was another 20 years before I saw YES again, as hard as that is for even me to believe. To be honest, I got tired of most rock concerts, and perhaps especially ones for my favorite groups; there were just too many people who weren’t there for the music. But I have seen YES a number of times in recent years, including a July 2002 show in Bonner Springs, Kansas. I had the good fortune of a front-row seat, right in front of Chris Squire. As a bass player myself, to be able to observe him closely is a great privilege. What a master of the instrument he is, a brilliant composer of contrapuntal lines.

It was lovely and fantastic to see the same version of the group I had seen at my first YES concert, almost 30 years before. Of rock musicians, YES are in that exceedingly small group of people who continue to improve with time. Singers, especially, are not supposed to be better years later than they were at 25, but somehow Jon Anderson has done it, and the beauty of it brings tears to my eyes. The guys don’t jump around so much these days; Steve stands very still for the most part, and Alan exemplifies the “it’s all in the wrists” school of drumming to such an extent that he makes some very difficult playing look deceptively simple. But that is all to the good. Let the music speak for itself, and there will be people to listen.

The chance to hear such songs in the flesh is always enticing, and perhaps the greatest thrill – on that most fans thought would never transpire – would be to see eight members of YES playing as a unified whole. Of all the laces to take in this mouth-watering, mind-boggling prospect of YES to the power of eight, creating their magical music on a revolving “in the round” stage, London, where it all began in 1968, would hold the most attraction.

Wembley, June 1991. To use the English vernacular, “the dog’s bollocks.” When the Around The World In 80 Days tour was announced, it seemed too good to be true. Tickets were like gold dust, and the final shows, to be staged at the aircraft hangar of Wembley Arena, couldn’t possibly live up to the stratospheric expectations of fans, could they? In a word: YES.

The first night in London is doubtlessly etched in the memory of every one of the 12,000 lucky so-and-sos who witnessed it. I’d dared to hope that the united YES would give it their all on home turf, and in the weeks and days beforehand I steeled myself to be awed. I was not to be disappointed. I’d seen some stunning shows; the Silver Clef 25th Anniversary Award Winners’ bash at Knebworth in 1990 was fresh in my mind, featuring an unparalleled bill ranging from Page & Plant to Eric Clapton, Elton John, Dire Straits, Genesis, Paul McCartney, and Pink Floyd. Impressive stuff. But of all the 400 or so gigs I’ve seen, no outfit had impressed me more than YES on that fantastic summer night in the Big Smoke.

Another thought that amused us during the preshow foreplay of banter and speculation were the potential backstage shenanigans involving eight egos that could collectively dwarf Wembley Stadium. We envisaged a conversation between Messrs. Anderson, Bruford, Howe, Kaye, Rabin, Squire, Wakeman, and White over who’d do so-and-so’s guitar, drum, or keyboard part, and whether Jon would be allowed to play his harp! A moment of doubt crept in. What if the evening’s entertainment was undermined by internal dissension? Would Rick order a chicken vindaloo? Would there be a bhaji onstage, in more ways than one?

Hold on! Think Positive! Think YES! And indeed, many with us at Wembley that day would give the show a thumbs-up, and, in truth, YES could have played Dixieland jazz and we’d have been happy! The fact that eight of them would be there, with us, was enough. The tour presented a a unique performance opportunity, and Jon regards it as the pinnacle of his career. Trevor, Alan, and Chris concur that there were “unique” nights, and while Steve felt some shows were “sloppy,” the focus was well and truly there in London. Rick adds that the sheer musicality on display was “the best ever” and had him “smiling every night.”

We laughed the laugh of condemned men exonerated. As the air filled with exultant hollering, chanting, and deafening whistles (apparently from would-be sheepdog trialists), the tempo of clapping increased, and we stood like initiates before an arcane secret ritual. It was then that, by chance, I espied two unoccupied seats in the – gasp! – front row. Hurtling toward them like a pair of Linford Christies, my brother and I claimed them as if at Iwo Jima, and then assumed the smug demeanour of those who, quite frankly, are sitting where they shouldn’t be (in promoters’ seats). Duly waving madly at our shell-shocked pals (who initially laughed at the sheer audacity of the move, then wished us instant death), we were soon cocooned by a fanfare heralding the arrival of the eight-man team that were the musical equivalent of the Harlem Globetrotters. A crescendo of sound built to fever pitch as the audience, in an unrestrained and very British form of cacophonous mass hysteria that only raises its head at gigs and soccer matches, greeted YES as conquering heroes. They donned their instruments as if for gladiatorial contest, and we basked in unmitigated glee at being witness to YES en masse in their own backyard.

Recalling the minutiae of such an overwhelming occasion from the distance of a dozen years is well nigh impossible. But it’s equally impossible to forget the spellbinding impression created in toto by each and every song, suite, solo, and flash of individual brilliance. The heady “Yours Is No Disgrace” counterpointed the razor-sharp thrust of “Rhythm Of Love,” while the punchy “Shock To The System” was followed by “Heart Of The Sunrise,” taking us soaring to another plane. Each song was met with delight, and the kind of welcome previously reserved only for a returning prodigal son greeted Steve’s acoustic spot, featuring evergreen favourites such as “Clap” and “Mood For A Day.” These fine airs were juxtaposed with a nod to the more recent past, as “Owner Of A Lonely Heart” was delivered in scintillating fashion, eliciting equally heady acclaim. The heavenly “And You And I” delivered a measure of stillness amid the storm, but this was a mere pause. For a percussion roust par excellence erupted, featuring full-steam-ahead galleon rhythms from Alan and a bewildering, syncopated maelstrom care of Bill. After the catchy AOR of “Hold On,” Trevor’s own phenomenal soloing was spotlighted on “Solly’s Beard.” which caused even dyed-in-the-wool Howe acolytes to acknowledge his stunning craft. The way was thus cleared for a catch-your-breath “Take The Water To The Mountain and pleading “Soon.” which made for a plateau of restful calm before we were geeked up again by the all-guns-blazing assault of a monumental “Long Distance Runaround” and rollicking “Saving My Heart.”

Reunited with our buddies, we stood incredulous, drained and elated. We knew we’d witnessed something very special indeed. Not every YES fan was lucky enough to see the Union tour, and fewer still to be at the heart of YES‘ world, which Chris later reflected was a great way to celebrate their 23rd birthday. It was only a small part of the YES story, but it was a truly wondrous chapter.

As we made our way out into the fading light, we felt we’d partaken in a life-enhancing event, a communion between those onstage and those before it. For those not party to it, they can’t begin to fathom what bordered on a transcendental experience. For those of us who were – when we and YES were one – it’s enough to say, “I was there.”

– Tim Jones