----------------------------------------------------- AUGUST 13, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------- Source: Palm Beach Post http://www.gopbi.com/partners/pbpost/epaper/editions/today/accent_d38571c663b1301810c0.html Yes, this band can still rock 'n' roll By Joel Engelhardt If there were a mandated retirement age for rock 'n' rollers, would progressive rock pioneers Yes have reached it? After all, the five band members who performed Sunday at MARS Music Amphitheatre are in their 50s, and the oldest, singer-songwriter Jon Anderson, is pushing 60. There's no question the group's intricately layered sound deserves to be performed long after the performers themselves are gone. Eventually, the group may have to bring in singers to hit the notes Anderson can no longer reach. After all, even Michael Jordan retired. Didn't he? Not quite. In a show as noteworthy for its sound problems as its fine music, the silver-haired rockers proved it's not time to give up. Not yet, at least. The three-hour show's weak point came from the soundboard, not the performers. Muddy best describes the mix for the first half of the show, with guitar sounds and vocals lost in the off-balance din. But it got worse. On South Side of the Sky, bassist Chris Squire realized the audience couldn't hear what he was playing. After half-heartedly strumming air-guitar style until the song's end, he stalked off the stage and the band cut early to Steve Howe's fine solo while technicians fixed the problem. Until that point, the show revolved around Howe, 55, and his inventive lead guitar, particularly on the group's rocking version of Paul Simon's America, a Yes cover dating to 1972. Where was venerable keyboard man Rick Wakeman, whose return generated the most pre-tour hype? Waiting for the second half of the show. Fortunately, by that time, the sound operator had reworked the mix and the group began to sound less ready for retirement. Wakeman, 53, fit in with the group he has played with off and on since 1971 like an old, comfortable pair of shoes. He knows the songs so well, he completes them, filling musical voids with rich texture. Yes doesn't improvise its old songs in concert. It performs them, throwing in subtle twists. Seeing them live fulfills a craving for nostalgia and something more: the need to keep something fine alive. But as the performers who wrote the music age, it begs the question: Who's going to be there to play it when they're gone? For every forgotten lyric or missed note, there are moments like Squire's driving bass medley, his duo with drummer Alan White and Wakeman's interplay with Howe that makes seeing these silver-haired rockers now, while they still have the ability to play, worthwhile. While Yes has had its splits and reconciliations, it has avoided tragedy. But as rock fans learned once again with the recent death of The Who's John Entwistle, rock 'n' rollers are not immortal. The reality is that great rockers don't just fade away. They die. The question the audience should be asking before shelling out $75 to hear them play is this: Can they still rock? For Yes the answer is "Yes." At least for now. Close Window YesInThePress.com For site comments, problems, corrections, or additions, contact YesinthePress@aol.com