Fly From Here: a review
Oct. 18th, 2012 12:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
avevale_intelligencerFly From Here is the most recent album by Yes, a band of whom I have been very fond ever since I woke up to rock music. Jon Anderson and Rick Wakeman were not present for this one, though there is an Oliver W credited on additional keyboards; lead vocals are taken by Benoit David, who only seems to have lasted the one album. Listening to Jon's more recent offerings, The Living Tree and Survival, it's sadly easy to hear why; the respiratory complaint that knocked him off a recent tour seemd to have knocked the stuffing out of the legendary voice. Whether he'll get it back I don't know, but time takes its unremitting toll after all and sadly rock music does not make you immortal. (And why not? I think we should be told.) David's voice is good, somewhat reminiscent of Trevor Horn, who with his Buggle-buddy Geoff Downes is back in the line-up as producer and main keyboardist respectively. The sound is pure Yes, though, and this seems to me more of a true Yes album than the previous Horn-produced work Drama.
Atmospheric is the word. The title track, a five-part twenty-two-minute epic whose genesis goes back to the Drama period, effortlessly evokes the atmosphere of a deserted, disused airfield haunted by the ghosts of pilots and groundstaff long gone. I was caught up in it from the first hearing, more and more so with repeated listenings, and it conjured up for me an unmade adventure of Sapphire and Steel, a foggy autumn night among the abandoned planes, a desperate flight into the unknown. It's one of those pieces that I could listen to over and over again, even now that I'm word perfect on the lyrics.
The other tracks are equally evocative, and seem to have been taken out of the middle of the story, though where one might fit them in is an exercise for the reader. "The Man You Always Wanted Me To Be" is perhaps the most personal, and certainly resonates with me. "Life On A Film Set," while less immediate, echoes some of the more accessible bits of J G Ballard, and also harks back to earlier Yes work with its rhythmic structure and incantatory lyrics. "Hour of Need" shows David at his most Jon-like, and is the most sing-along-able of the tracks, and "Into The Storm," finishing up after the Howe solo piece "Solitaire." is the most easily placeable into the story of "Fly From Here," coming clearly just before the end.
It's possible that no words can do justice to great music, least of all my incoherent wibblings, which despite the fact that I've been brewing this review for weeks still haven't jelled into anything solid. However, if I've managed to convey that this album is one of my favourite Yes productions, showing clearly that this band, like the axe of my grandfather, remains itself no matter which of the floating pool of artists that surround it happen to turn up for rehearsal on the day, then this review has done its job.
As long as Yes is running the airfield, we can indeed Fly From Here. Long may they continue.
Atmospheric is the word. The title track, a five-part twenty-two-minute epic whose genesis goes back to the Drama period, effortlessly evokes the atmosphere of a deserted, disused airfield haunted by the ghosts of pilots and groundstaff long gone. I was caught up in it from the first hearing, more and more so with repeated listenings, and it conjured up for me an unmade adventure of Sapphire and Steel, a foggy autumn night among the abandoned planes, a desperate flight into the unknown. It's one of those pieces that I could listen to over and over again, even now that I'm word perfect on the lyrics.
The other tracks are equally evocative, and seem to have been taken out of the middle of the story, though where one might fit them in is an exercise for the reader. "The Man You Always Wanted Me To Be" is perhaps the most personal, and certainly resonates with me. "Life On A Film Set," while less immediate, echoes some of the more accessible bits of J G Ballard, and also harks back to earlier Yes work with its rhythmic structure and incantatory lyrics. "Hour of Need" shows David at his most Jon-like, and is the most sing-along-able of the tracks, and "Into The Storm," finishing up after the Howe solo piece "Solitaire." is the most easily placeable into the story of "Fly From Here," coming clearly just before the end.
It's possible that no words can do justice to great music, least of all my incoherent wibblings, which despite the fact that I've been brewing this review for weeks still haven't jelled into anything solid. However, if I've managed to convey that this album is one of my favourite Yes productions, showing clearly that this band, like the axe of my grandfather, remains itself no matter which of the floating pool of artists that surround it happen to turn up for rehearsal on the day, then this review has done its job.
As long as Yes is running the airfield, we can indeed Fly From Here. Long may they continue.
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Date: 2012-10-18 12:56 pm (UTC)