Prelude to a sandwich

I’ve been threatening for some time to compare the band YES to a sandwich.

It turns out to be harder than I first thought, not because the comparison isn’t apt but because I seem to have rather a lot to say about YES (not as much about sandwiches, but that might change if I really get going).

This has made it tricky to get started. I’m not quite convinced that my yammerings about YES are anything the world has been waiting desperately to hear. However, I seem desperate to yammer, and I’m thinking I should finally get it out of my system so I can move on to other things. This is going to be too long; didn’t read for most of you, and that’s ok. You could go take a nap instead. I think you’ve earned it.

The rest of you intrepid villains may follow me under the fold.


________________________________________________________________________

YES is my favourite band.

I feel like I should qualify that, somehow, as if that might assuage my epic dorkiness, but there’s no way around it. I am peerless in my dorkitude, and while there is plenty of other music I like as much or more (or with fewer complications, at least) there is no other band that engages me quite like YES. Even when I hate them – and I sometimes hate them – I love them for giving me something to rail against. It’s a pugnacious kind of passion, as all my truest passions tend to be.

[A significant pause, wherein I realize how deeply I deserve my pugnacious child. Ye gods. OK, carry on.]

I was raised on classical music with a smattering of 80s pop and early Beatles, so rock music was a language I learned in adulthood. I am aware that I speak it with an accent. It was my husband who introduced me to so-called “progressive rock” (I hate that name; “prog” is barely better). This turned out to be a good starting point for someone of my background: prog has a lot in common with classical music. Kansas was one of the first bands that didn’t sound like undifferentiated noise to me; the violin helped, but also the fact that I recognized one of their songs as a fugue. That gave me a place to stand. Similarly, the flute and folksiness of Jethro Tull invited me in.

That was as far as I intended to venture into prog; two bands was surely plenty. I was a snob. Classical music was an identity (a shield?) that I wasn’t ready to let go of. I remember distinctly, however, that I was lying on the living room floor, reading the want-ads (as if they were literature), when Scott put on a new-to-me prog CD and it instantly made sense to me. It was as startling as if I’d suddenly understood French. I asked him in some alarm, “What IS this?” This turned out to be Talk, the last hurrah of Rabin-era YES.

I live for that moment of discovery, of recognition in art, of being propelled suddenly to my feet without knowing how, crying, “Yes, that’s it exactly, YES!” (You see how aptly this band is named, ha ha)

But why should Talk have spoken to me when prog rock that more obviously invoked classical music (lookin’ at you, ELP and symphonic rock) did not? This is something I really enjoy thinking about. My theory about art is that we recognize something in it — not ourselves, necessarily (unless we are narcissists, and everything looks like us), but our struggles. Our preoccupations. I like to think we see the human behind it, beckoning to us, saying, “People have passed this way before. Here’s how the problem looked to me, and how I approached it.”

It’s not so much that YES resembles classical music (although in some ways they do). It’s that they’re addressing some of the same questions classical music addresses – some of the same questions that interest me – and coming up with fascinating (to me, anyway) answers. I recognized the question, not the solution. The solution is always unique.

So what’s the question? With something as non-verbal as music (or any art: even writing employs words in service of the unutterable) it can be hard to articulate. For me, I think the question is about maintaining the integrity of the individual while serving the purpose of the whole. How can we be both vibrantly ourselves and cohesively part of the whole?

The answer, as evinced in the collected works of YES, seems to be: “With difficulty, but it’s worth the effort.” Sometimes the disparate parts are so finely balanced that the music seems as inevitable as a law of nature, and other times, by golly, they fail. I kind of love it when they fail, because that’s when you can see how and what they’re trying.

All right, I’ve swung off into the eccentric and esoteric here. I’ll give you some time to recover, and then I’ll get down to specifics: who’s playing, what they’re doing, delicious timbres, and the democracy of sound. After that: lunchtime at Chez Nous! I promise.


6 Comments on “Prelude to a sandwich”

  1. Rick Santman says:

    Upon a couple occasions in the past, YES has been MY favorite band, too.

    Early adopter here, bought Time and a Word when it was spankin’ new, followed them in all their different guises right through the early 90’s. The Yes Album, Fragile, and Close to the Edge are a favorite hat trick when I’m in the garage workshop and spinning tunes. Cat rolls her eyes at me, shrugs, and walks away.

    We seem to have crossed paths on our musical adventures, I started with rock’n’roll and dug my way into classical. Astonishing how many riffs I recognize when spinning a new (to me) piece of classical, and it turns out I already know by heart, either from the 70’s and 80’s stadium rockers, or classic Warner Brothers cartoons, LOL

    Right now my favorite pieces of music seem to run the gamut through Bethoven’s 7th and 9th symphonies, Carmina Burana by Orff, and select bits of Yes, Genesis, Dire Straits, and Big Band compilations. This week, at least.

    • Ha! I knew you were a man of excellent tastes, Rick! And for some reason I am inordinately tickled to think one can proceed in either direction.

      And yes, “favourite” is an always-evolving category. YES is something I come back to again and again, however.

  2. Haha, I’ve definitely written esoteric posts about music that I doubt have wide appeal.

    This was interesting to read because I too was raised on classical music. I grew up almost totally ignorant of popular music (in the broadest sense), and I still am pretty ignorant… I have branched out some, but mostly into traditional music. The way I started venturing beyond classical music was by hearing a song somewhere by accident (French class was surprisingly good for this, actually). Then it would stick with me, and I would find it again and listen to it a lot. Usually it’s just particular songs, though, not a band’s whole oeuvre.

    • This post is a really incomplete picture of the ways I’ve branched out, I have to admit. Early music, Celtic music, and folk metal all get heavy rotation, too. My YES obsession was facilitated by the fact that my husband is a completist. He had not just all the YES, but many of the solo albums as well. Those provide a full, rich picture of what these fellows are up to musically.

      I like your esoteric music posts! I should comment more, but I never feel like I know enough to contribute.

  3. Rick Santman says:

    Here’s something for you to look for if you haven’t heard it before, Carmen, performed entirely on acoustic guitar, by the Romeros family. Gorgeous.


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