Published on Jan 21, 2004
If any band could justify having two box sets of four CDs or
more in print, it’s probably Yes. Never mind their 35-year tenure
and 25 or so albums… (don’t look for a definitive answer on
that one — you could argue all night about which albums should be
considered “official” and whether or not to include various
compilations and live discs)… all you really need to know is
that this is a band that put out a double album with only four
“songs” on it.
In any case, the first of the group’s two super-size collections
was 1991’s four-disc
YesYears. It was made possible at the time by (perhaps even
mandated by) the temporary merger of the YesWest (Trevor Rabin,
Chris Squire, Alan White, Tony Kaye) and Classic Yes (Jon Anderson,
Steve Howe, Bill Bruford, Rick Wakeman) factions. This “mega-Yes”
issued the stitched-together
Union album, toured successfully, and then issued this
collection as a kind of capstone.
As with any box set, the main issue for any prospective buyer of
YesYears is track selection. If you’re gonna shell out
thirty or forty or fifty bucks, you want the right songs on there,
and something new to sink your teeth into. In both respects, the
band did a good, if not outstanding, job with
YesYears.
With respect to the band’s best-known and best-loved tracks, all
the obvious picks are here (“Starship Trooper,” “I’ve Seen All Good
People,” “Roundabout,” “Close To The Edge,” “Owner Of A Lonely
Heart,” “Rhythm Of Love,” etc.). It’s on the second tier that
things get interesting.
The band is generous in terms of space allotted for their first
two (relatively neglected) albums. I, for one, get a kick out of
their psychedelic takedown of
West Side Story‘s “Something’s Coming” and the Beatles’
“Every Little Thing.” You could sense from the start that this band
was not going to play by the rules; Bill Bruford’s drumming is
jazzy and sassy, and Chris Squire’s bass playing is already off the
charts in terms of inventiveness and agility.
The second disc is fairly predictable, though the choices are
sometimes hard ones; of course you have to have the full 18 minutes
of “Close To The Edge” — it was a musical milestone — but it’s a
shame to exclude both of the other two great tracks from that
classic album. The choice of “Ritual” to represent
Tales From Topographic Oceans is a good one — it’s probably
the most accessible of the album’s four long suites. But after
those two long pieces, the band opts to omit the terrific epic
“Gates Of Delirium” from
Relayer, instead including the inferior “Sound Chaser” and
an edit of the “Soon” section from “Gates” — a beautiful moment
that’s about one-tenth as powerful lifted out of the context of the
longer piece.
Disc three is where Yes fans start to scratch our heads. Of the
16 songs on this disc, about half truly belong. The rest are
less-than-captivating outtakes from
Going For The One (“Vevey,” “Montreaux’s Theme”) and
Tormato (“Money,” “Abilene”), and a pair of non-Yes
curiosities. First there’s Chris Squire’s bass-solo version of
“Amazing Grace” (reminds me of Hendrix’s “Star-Spangled Banner” in
that hearing it once is cool, but a second time seems unnecessary),
and then there’s Squire and White’s Christmas novelty single “Run
With The Fox,” which is cute and well-orchestrated, but ultimately
forgettable.
Next looms disc four, a.k.a. the Rabin Years. The band’s ’80s
singles are all here (oops, except for “Leave It”), and that’s fine
by me, as there are some decent pop hooks to be found. Plus,
there’s an intriguing alternate version of
90125‘s “It Can Happen,” recorded before Jon Anderson
rejoined, and featuring Chris Squire on lead vocals. Unfortunately,
you also get treated to a thankfully unreleased Rabin track from
the
90125 sessions — the grating Foreigner wannabe “Make It
Easy” – and some fairly wretched live tracks featuring the YesWest
’80s lineup. Worst of the bunch is a horrific slaughter of the
Classic Yes ballad “And You And I,” whose master tapes should be
shot, burned and probably irradiated as well. (If you’re curious
about Steve Howe’s hair falling out during the 90s, my guess is it
started when he heard this tape.) Finishing with a whimper, not a
bang, the set closes with a new, unreleased song from the YesWest
faction plus future Yes member Billy Sherwood, a saccharin wankfest
called (grit teeth and shudder) “Love Conquers All.”
Those missteps aside,
YesYears does contain about 90 percent of the Yes tunes you
really want to hear from the band’s ’70s and ’80s lineups, along
with a few additional items of interest. Also on the plus side is
the jumbo-sized booklet, featuring a wealth of unreleased band
photos, comprehensive liner notes and a Yes family tree. Note that
there is a version of
YesYears that includes a video documentary on VHS tape;
although I bought mine without the video, I kind of regret it,
having later rented the video and found it pretty informative and,
in the case of the Rick Wakeman interview snippets, amusing as
well.
Next week we’ll cover the band’s 2002 box set,
In A Word. If you’re looking for a definitive statement of
which set is the better buy, I’m not sure I can offer that; both
have unique features, and neither is perfect. I’m afraid you’ll
just have to study up and judge for yourself.