Yes - Yessongs

Atlantic: 1973

For some – okay, many - this is Peak Yes, a collection of live recordings cribbing tunes from their best Phase 1 albums with most of the classic line-up intact. After this, they'd release Tales From Topographic Oceans, where casual folks finally had just about enough of prog-rock's highfalutin sense of self, and the personnel changes would come often. Heck, they started right in the middle of these tours, original drummer Bill Bruford replaced by Alan White on the fly. Considering ol' Alan's stuck with the band longer than anyone not named Chris Squire though, shouldn't he be considered the official Yes drummer over Bill?

Also, how crazy must that have been for Mr. White to get thrown into the band's overtly complex compositions with almost no prep? He was already an experienced drummer with The Alan Price Set and The Plastic Ono Band, so he adapted fine, but still. Just as well the lone drum solo in this 3LP set is one of the few Bruford recordings, towards the tail-end of Perpetual Change. Don't worry, Alan, you'll get many opportunities to shine in the ensuing decade.

Naturally, a pretentious rock band has to open their pretentious concerts with nothing less than a pretentious excerpt from Igor Stravinsky's Firebird Suite (Tomita must have noticed), but it does serve a wicked lead-in for Siberian Khatru. Following that, all the Yes classics show up: Heart Of The Sunrise, Roundabout, Close To The Edge, Yours Is No Disgrace, And You And I, plus plenty of solo showcases along the way. Can't deny the synth-dork in me gets all atwitter over hearing Rick Wakeman doing his thing on various keyboards in Excerpts From “The Six Wives Of Henry VIII”, and Chris has plenty of funky bass jams on a lengthier rendition of The Fish (Schindleria Praematurus). Plus how can you deny all that awesome shredding from Steve Howe! So much shredding from Steve Howe, just so much...

As for actual differences between these live and studio versions, everything on Yessongs feels looser. Sometimes it can throw you off, especially if you're used to hearing the perfectly polished studio takes, but once the band locks into their groove and go off (the crescendos in Heart Of The Sunrise, the sonic freak-outs of Close To The Edge, etc.), it's quite the exhilarating ride of musicianship.

If any song makes perfect sense in a live context, it's Starship Trooper. The Life Seeker portion is a chipper, happy piece, then goes into the reflective Disillusion, before heading for the final stretch of Würm, quite possibly the greatest 'dumb rock-out' composition in Yes' entire discography. The hook is stupid simple, instantly lodging itself into your brain matter, and it just builds, and builds, and builds, each band member getting solo action along the way before ending on a huge musical high. It's like an awesome, extended, in-the-zone Neil Young & Crazy Horse jam, but with tons more technical skill that never loses its soul of rock 'n' roll.

Genesis - We Can't Dance

Atlantic: 1991

The first Genesis album I ever got, since I didn't know any better. It didn't help this came out when I was at that very impressionable age of Twelve, with big hits of the day having much more influence on my interests than whatever the 'underground' was kicking. The first mixtape I made had stuff like Roxette, Michael Jackson's latest off Dangerous, and The Northern Pikes (it's a Canadian thing) – really, just whatever caught my eyes from MuchMusic, and happened to be in my old man's collection of CDs. Technically, the goof-ball blues of I Can't Dance falls into this category, as the tongue-in-cheek video (that walk!) had plenty of rotation on the music channel, and Daddy-O' had the album too. I'm not sure why he did though, as he lacked anything else from the band, new or old. I suspect I Can't Dance was such a hit, he needed it for all those mobile DJ gigs at weddings and office parties.

ANY-hootaney, I didn't get We Can't Dance for that particular song, but for a different one that struck quite a nerve when I first heard it: No Son Of Mine. As far as I can recall, hearing Phil Collins belt out that chorus was the first time I'd been mentally shook by lyrics, a cold chill running down the back of my neck as my pre-teen mind processed the implication such words coming from a father could have. What might a young man, boy, or teen do that was so abhorrent as to cause his father to reject him so emphatically? For that matter, could my father ever find some action of mine utterly contemptible as to turn his back on me? Might I even be capable of such action? It's a query that's stuck with me ever since I heard No Son Of Mine so many moons ago, long after such musings should have passed me by.

I know it's poor form spending a huge chunk of a review on an anecdote (or admission, or... whatever that above paragraph is), but let's be frank here: does anyone remember anything else off this album? There's twelve songs on We Can't Dance, but beyond No Son Of Mine (a kick-ass tune even if you don't have emotional scars from it), I Can't Dance, and maybe the peppy Jesus He Knows Me, nothing else had much impact on the airwaves. Oh, the album sold gang-busters, as most Genesis albums did back then, but I highly doubt most folks could hum songs like Tell Me Why or Since I Lost You or Hold On My Heart. The music's all slick, well-crafted, and nicely performed, everyone involved clearly experts in their trade. Yet aside from a couple extended jams in Dreaming While You Sleep and Driving The Last Spike, it all passes by with little vigour. As chided for its pure pop leanings as Invisible Touch gets, at least it had impressive compositions like The Brazilian in there too.

Genesis - Invisible Touch

Atlantic: 1986

This past Novemeber, the third single from Genesis’ bestselling album Invisible Touch kept running through my head. Granted, Land Of Confusion is already one of those ridiculously ear-wormy pop-rock anthems of the ‘80s, but for the first time in my life, I actually found myself… relating to the lyrics? Wait, how can that be? I’ve long been suspect of the pseudo-genre of ‘Boomer Activist Arena Rock’. For all the good intentions that generation tried accomplishing throughout the ‘80s, most of it now reeks of pretentious self-righteousness, especially in lieu of little significantly having been accomplished with these songs.

Still, the video – one of the most memorable of that decade thanks to the puppetry involved – had me realizing just how eerily similar our current climate is compared to the one portrayed there. A bumbling, aging, feckless Republican President who dreams of being a hero in a scary world; celebrities believing they got the Right Stuff in banding together for Important Issues; Phil Collins looking like a muppet. Trying to make sense of it all, it really did feel like we were living in another Land Of Confusion for a new era. Who’d guess that Genesis would be prophetic three decades ago!

This got me curious about the rest of the album Land Of Confusion came on, whether there might be other prescient nuggets of foresight throughout. Never mind the reputation Invisible Touch has gained over the years as one of those ‘80s albums that absolutely reeks of the decade filled with chintzy, superfluous excess. Even looking at the cover-art, you can’t imagine it being made at any other time than when shoulder-pads, mullets, tinny production, and hall effects reigned supreme.

The album itself isn’t really all that political though – no more so than a typical pop album of the mid-‘80s. The remaining Genesis band members – singer/drummer Phil Collins, guitarist Mike Rutherford (aka: the tall bearded guy), and keyboardist Tony Banks (aka: the other guy) – had been off doing their own projects for the past few years; apparently Collins had a couple successful tunes on the radio in that time. When they reconvened for this album, they came in with no preconceived notions, no intended ideas. Just let the music flow naturally as it came to them. And yet, it still ended up sounding like a Phil Collins record. Must be that Hugh Padgham ‘invisible touch’.

So everyone knows the titular hit single (definitive ‘80s pop). Tonight, Tonight, Tonight sees the band indulge themselves a little more in their music chops, while letting Collins belt another power chorus. Anything She Does is one of those peppy jazz-funk things as done by British white guys with synths. Domino is a more ambitious rock outing at ten-minutes in length, and instrumental The Brazilian closes the album out reminding folks that Genesis once were Serious Prog Musicians too. Hard to remember that with two ballads on here, though Throwing It All Away is charming enough. In Too Deep though… yeesh.

Kon Kan - Syntonic

Atlantic: 1990

I’ve been severely neglecting my Canadian content this past month. Better get to it before our new Liberal overlords send me a fair-weather warning of forced patriotism. Wait, do they even care about backwater bloggers? How could they even enforce such a thing? Would they suddenly turn my review of Hot Chip’s DJ-Kicks into something by Arcade Fire? No, they could never be so nefarious. The blues, maybe, but not our boys in red (note: I voted orange). As luck would have it though, I get to meet my monthly Canadian content quota by reviewing an album by a synth-pop act whose name is a play on that quirky bit of legislation, Kon Kan. See, it’s Canadian content, backwards! Eh? Eh? Pah, witty Canuckian humor is lost on all y’alls.

I always remember seeing the name Kon Kan around, though not in any significant way. I mean, they were a Canadian synth-pop act, making dance music at a time when dance music was gaining a fair bit of popularity in the early ‘90s. They’d almost be obligated the occasional guest spot on whatever hip club music show was airing on MuchMusic at the time (X-Tendamix? Might Master T have interviewed Kon Kan at one point? Ooh, you know that’d be some retro YouTubing there). By the time I’d finally immersed myself in ‘techno’ though, they’d already folded as a group. Well, ‘group’ is a stretch of a word, Kon Kan primarily the creation of one Barry Harris. He’d update his sound for the euro dance crowds in the group Outta Control, all the while making underground house records solo and harder stuff with career remixer Chris Cox as Thunderpuss. Mr. Harris has stayed active to this day, and even suggested dusting off the old Kon Kan name with original vocalist Kevin Wynne. Because nothing old stays old, right?

Point being, there’s a lot of history to this name, and is hardly a one-and-done deal despite Kon Kan never getting bigger than their debut, Juno Award winning single I Beg Your Pardon. I sure didn’t know all this when I picked Syntonic out of a used shop. I just recognized the name from a house compilation, and took a chance after a quick listen of the first few tracks. Honestly though, I’m still wondering how that initial impression convinced me to buy this sophomore effort. Yeah, Victorious is undeniably catchy in that New Jack Swing sort of way, but dear Lord so much else on here sounds way dated.

Obviously I can’t expect blinding sonics from a 1990 Canaidan synth-pop album, even one backed by Atlantic Records, but a few tracks do work on those terms. Lead single Liberty! is just as peppy as anything from the Pet Shop Boys, Can’t Stop The Fire gets more to Harris’ house side, andTime is good cheesy italo fun, even if the chorus apes Trooper’s We’re Here For A Good Time. Overall though, Syntonic is just another long forgotten collection of dated dance pop.

James Horner - Star Trek II: The Wrath Of Khan (Expanded Edition)

Atlantic/Retrograde Records: 1982/2009

The only Star Trek soundtrack you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a fan of Star Trek soundtracks. I know, I know. You’re wondering how on Earth can there be that specific a music niche, but check it, yo’. Star Trek is a massive enterprise, finding its way into every form of consumable medium known to the Western world. We obviously think of it as a TV and movie franchise, but all those fancy images don’t come silent, each feature film and weekly episode requiring scores to set the tone and mood. Even with its shoestring budget, The Original Series came up with some iconic pieces everyone recognizes (and lovably mock), and The Next Generation had its moments too. And when you have original scores made for each episode, every series has volumes of music a die-hard Trekkie can nab their hands on. Plus, there's video game soundtracks, audio books, music inspired by Trek, and the list goes on.

However, The Wrath Of Khan is different. This isn't so much a soundtrack for Star Trek II, but rather a soundtrack composed by James Horner that happens to be a Star Trek film. That wasn’t much of a distinction when the movie came out, as Mr. Horner was just starting out in scoring films. A few decades on though, and several famous soundtracks under his belt (Braveheart, Titanic, Glory, Willow, Rocketeer, etc., etc.), we've come to hear certain traits and signifiers in Horner's work. Those exhilarating set pieces, the memorable heart-wrenching melodies, a bounty of leitmotif riches – it’s no small wonder Horner became one of Hollywood’s most famous go-to composers.

The Wrath Of Khan wasn’t Horner first score, but it definitely provided his first opportunity in showcase his talents to a wide audience. The result is one of the most memorable scores ever committed to a sci-fi adventure flick, a remarkable feat considering Horner had Jerry Goldsmith’s iconic Star Trek score hovering just one movie prior (to say nothing of Star Wars). Fortunately for Horner though, he had a much better movie to work with, encouraged to go as bombastic as he wished by director Nicholas Meyer. Swashbuckling music for the Enterprise and her crew, menacing marches of ancient glories for Khan and his cronies, triumphant cues, mournful losses, this score has everything, never skimping on wrenching every last bit of tension and emotion from his compositions. Given the final result, one would think he’d used up every great idea in his repertoire on this movie. Little were we to know he was just getting started.

That’s why this soundtrack is as much a showcase of James Horner as it is a backing score to the best Star Trek movie ever made. When you think of the other films, their scores still sound Star Trek, the composers mostly adhering to the franchise’s needs. Horner, on the other hand, transcended that, and helped lift The Wrath Of Khan well beyond expectations in the process, to a peak that’s yet to be matched.

Yes - Relayer

Atlantic: 1974/1995

Holy cow, another rock album? That's, what, four in the last week alone? Who'd have thought the letter 'R' would hold so much of the stuff. This time out, we return to the realms of prog rock, that most pretentious of all rock 'n' roll forms. It's been a while since I last dealt with a Yes LP, and hoo-wee, is it ever a doozy. The band had just come off the Topographic Oceans tour, though more of a slog should you hear Rick Wakeman describe it. The album in support has long been considered the exact moment prog rock had transcended cleverness into self-parody, which isn't entirely accurate – after all, the '80s still loomed. But yes, a double-LP with four songs running twenty-plus minutes each was overboard, especially when tied to such a nebulous theme as- You know what, forget it. Explaining it would eat up two reviews alone.

With Relayer however, Yes decided another musical challenge was required, this time tackling nothing less than Tolstoy’s epic War and Peace, while adding jazz-fusion into their prog-rocky mix. Wait, where are you going? No, this is awesome, I swear it is! The main song on here, The Gates Of Delirium, is broader in its war theme than a chronicle of Napoleon’s campaign against the Tsars – it could be any ol’ battle, heck even a Tolkien conflict! Roger Dean’s cover art suggests more of a fantasy setting than any place on Earth, and I get something of a Wizards vibe from the piece too. And if Led Zepplin can make music about hobbits with cred’ intact, why not Yes? Oh yeah, that Topographics thing. They’ll never live that one down.

The Gates Of Delirium though, aw man, is this ever a beast of a tune. It starts out all jaunty and chipper, soldiers calm and ready to head off for battle, the music soon changing into a strident march. Some eight minutes in, everything grows urgent, the pace picking up, and all sorts of crazy jams, sounds, crashes, rhythms, guitar squalls and utter chaos ensues, a glorious psychedelic freak-out that explodes into triumphant bombast, Steve Howe’s Telecasters soaring high and proud after a hard fought victory. Following that, the song goes calm, quiet, and soothing, a steel pedal guitar gliding about like a KLF ambient moment (wait...). I guess this is the peace that follows war, though the way Jon Anderson sings, it sounds more like beaten warriors have ascended heaven. Interpretations obviously vary.

The other two tracks are Sound Chaser, a total rock-jazz-psych-prog jam-out with a kick-ass guitar solo (seriously, Howe was on fire on this album – guess he was anxious to try out his new toys). Plus, a charming ditty in To Be Over, a pleasant enough outing (more steel pedal!), but comes off overindulgent for my liking – yes, on an album that features a bloody war re-enactment. Still, The Gates Of Delirium is one of the essentials of prime-era Yes, easily worth the price of admission.

Stone Temple Pilots - Core

Atlantic: 1992

Of course a teenager would have a grunge album in their collection if they were a teenager in the early '90s. Wait, I never did, firmly planting my flag with 'techno' and making little concessions for other musics thereafter. I did have a single mixtape with some Nirvana on it, but that was about as obligated to the grunge scene as I ever got. Still, I have to give the former owner of these CDs credit, collecting mostly obscure grunge. No Pearl Jam, no Nirvana, no Alice In Chains, no Hole, no Smashing Pumpkins, and no Mudhoney; there is a Bush album with the lot I got though. Hey, Teenage Ishkur, why didn't you have most of the recognizable grunge bands with your CDs?

Teenage Ishkur: My older brother has them.

Oh. Well that makes sense.

Stone Temple Pilots may also be an obvious inclusion, but only if you have Purple. Carried by two of their most successful hits in Vaseline and Interstate Love Song, not to mention an iconic cover I’m sure Billy Corgan took notes on, the band’s sophomore effort has gone down as the only album by Stone Temple Pilots you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a fan of Stone Temple Pilots. Can’t say I was much of a fan myself, always mistaking Vaseline as a song by some other grunge act. By the time I did properly notice them, it was during the promotion of their third album, Tiny Music... Songs From The Vatican Gift Shop, specifically the Big Bang Baby video. With its cheesy So-Cal style, it was all kinds of silly, which I understand was the point, but 1996 Sykonee sure didn’t know that. Stone Temple Pilots thus remained with the rest of grunge on my ‘Don’t Give A Shit About’ list.

As with many things lately, I’ve reconsidered that foolhardy teenaged assumption. Their debut album, Core, is far more kick-ass than I thought it would be, and I see why this band was held in the same breath as Pearl Jam and Nirvana. Hell, with Scott Weiland really getting his Eddie Vedder on, they even sound like Pearl Jam, albeit with far heavier guitars front and centre. It’s like what Metallica might have sounded like if they’d emerged from grunge instead of thrash, a ridiculous comparison, true, but one that my limited exposure to this music made nonetheless.

When Core came out, Stone Temple Pilots were derided as bandwagon jumpers by the regular rock press, a not unfair judgement considering their early work as Mighty Joe Young was more eclectic. That said, this debut is also a competently written and strongly executed album from a group that had earned their stripes in the trenches. For that fact, Core has endured as a minor classic of the early ‘90s hard rock scene. Purple may be more essential to the casual, but if you’re gathering up grunge for your music collection, Core definitely deserves a spot on your shelves too.