The band Yes seems to be just as polarizing among music lovers as cilantro is among foodies.
Of all the things my daughter learned to like her freshman year of college, I am happiest that she reports deepening feelings toward guacamole. Upon my arrival in Austin, I like to whip up a big bowl of guac. And now that bowl will need to be bigger.
But how do I turn her on to Yes? Is Yes a band you either like or don’t like, or is it a band you might grow to love due to circumstantial associations? Probably the former.
I fell in love with the band in the seventies because having an older sister meant easy access to all things Close to the Edge. The appeal for me was the steel guitar, the voice, and the magical lyrics, in that order. (I’ve always been a lyrics girl.)
In the evenings I’d sit on my canopy bed in my second story room in Highview, hooked up to the turntable by headphones, and watch the sun set and the lights come on in downtown Louisville while listening to heady music like Pink Floyd and Yes.
Yes in the round in 1978 was my first concert. I was dating a football player, and he merely tolerated the band for my sake.
For reasons I can’t explain, years and decades went by that I didn’t listen to Yes anymore.
Yesterday, a friend posted a Yes video to his Facebook page for Rick Wakeman’s birthday. I started thinking about Yes again, and I had to find another video.
Watching a 2004 video of “Going for the One” from Lugano definitely got to me. The steel guitar intro still makes my heart race. As I heard the words again, I recalled that even my father liked the song because of the “thoroughbred racing chaser.”
In the 2004 video, Jon Anderson delivers the message so passionately, and Steve Howe is transported by the Fender steel. The appeal for me is still the steel guitar, the voice, and the magical lyrics.
And as I look at my novel manuscript to prepare it for an agent, I see the steel guitar, the voice, and the magical lyrics. Yes, I see it’s all still there.
Now the verses I’ve sang don’t add much weight/
To the story in my head so I’m thinking I should go write a punch line/
But they’re so hard to find in my cosmic mind so I think I’ll take a look outside the window/ When I think about you, I don’t feel low.
-Jon Anderson, “Going for the One”
your post reminded me of one of my most vivid dreams *ever* -- it was from 90125 (I know, I know, not classic Yes, but bear with me) and it was the clearest, most lucid music I had ever heard. As Track 5, Cinema, leads up to Track 6 "Leave It" with "I can feel no sense of measure... no illusions..." is this cacophony, this wall of sound, and then as the lyrics begin, we get the doom, de-de-de-dooms passing back and forth between the right and left channels... very very vivid audio dream. I played the two songs tonight on my laptop. thanks for reminding me of this, Heather. Packing for Innovate tonight, I say goodbye to Chapel Hill and Hello to Orlando.
ReplyDelete"Leave It" begs further discussion. I rarely fail to hear lyrics correctly, but I didn't have the album and always heard "leaving" instead of "leave it." I also would allow myself to hear, "Hello, hello, Heather," but I knew that was just an egotistical indulgence and not the real lyric. Listening to the song today, I have to say I am always fond of any song with a meaningful passage of the doo-doo's. Other songs like the Stones' "Heartbreaker" and my friend Jud Newcomb's "Damaged Goods" come to mind. Thanks for reading the MAM blog, Michael. Nice reference to the "Leave It" construct in your final sentence in the comment.
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