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MAY 2, 2004
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Source: MSN Entertainment
http://entertainment.msn.com/music/article.aspx/?news=156517
Yes: Geek is Chic
25 years later, prog-rock band still represents skill over thrill
By Adam Berliant
Among the many reasons I could never get a date in high school, there were
three that really stand out.
First, my dancing, and honestly, that was reason enough -- the '70s were a
tough time for teens who couldn't boogie. Second, my book collection, which
ran from Asimov to Zelazny. And third, my zealous passion for progressive
rock, especially Yes.
While other kids honed their social skills, I was home wearing bulky
headphones cranking "Perpetual Change" while plagiarizing Roger Dean's
album art. And while this did land me one of the world's dorkiest jobs as
an airbrush T-shirt artist at the local amusement park, it did nothing for
my social status.
The only shred of social superiority I could enjoy during this phase was
that at least I wasn't as nerdy as the kids who listened to Rush. (Rush
fans, please don't e-mail me. They were never as good, still aren't.)
I'm not to blame, really.
After elementary school, when I emerged from my "Free to be You and Me"
years, my older brother graced me with access to his prized record collection.
"There are three albums everyone owns," he said. And from his stack of LPs,
he brought out "Fragile," "Dark Side of the Moon" and Little Feat's
"Waiting for Columbus." With all due respect to the complexities of "Dixie
Chicken," I had seen enough Sesame Street to know one of these things was
not like the others, and seized on the records with the cool album art.
(Little Feat fans, please e-mail the Rush fans.)
From that point forward I had made my choice. Despite countless evenings
hanging out with all two of my friends in my suburban basement, Yes still
represents for me a lifelong choice of substance over style, skill over
thrill, and craft over crap. And a secret desire to wear a bedazzled cape,
while playing 12 synthesizers at once.
So, a mere 25 years later, I learned that Yes was at the Sundome in Yakima,
Wash., playing to a crowd of zero people as a final rehearsal before their
worldwide tour. And I don't think the invitation got past the words "Can
you..." before I said, "Yes, yes, we'll be there."
Yakima is a small, very-but-not-entirely rural town about thre hours east
of Seattle, and a surprisingly nice place to visit. I happen to enjoy it
best in the fall, when the apples are ripe, the wine is flowing and the
farmer's market is overflowing. But still, there was a part of me that was
deeply amused by the fact that my nerd dreams were coming true in such a
place. Pink Floyd's flying pig would have been far more appropriate at the
home of the Central Washington State Fair.
But that all floated away almost the second we arrived. The SUV that pulled
up next to us in the parking lot was driven by Alan White. After some quick
introductions, he took us into the stadium, walked us onto the stage, and
began introducing us.
It was hard not to feel 15 again. But just as well. At 15 I may have been
tempted to show Alan White my air-drumming skills, and that would have
meant decades of embarrassment.
Racks of bass guitars were being rolled in, there was a giant inflatable
set designed by Roger Dean, the trademark Rick Wakeman keyboard pit, and of
course, a customized drum set. It was modified with huge, robotic pod-like
kettle drums -- precisely the sort of thing that does nothing to improve
Yes fans' reputation.
The Yes tour represents both a 35th anniversary and a platform for their
new collection, "The Ultimate Yes." And while there were numerous line-ups
of the band over the years, this was exactly the one I would have chosen as
ideal: Jon Anderson, Chris Squire, Rick Wakeman, Alan White, and of course,
Steve Howe.
A good percentage of my Yes-related evangelism had to do with measuring the
exact degree of Steve Howe's superiority over all other guitar players. Was
he a billion times better than all other guitar players? Seventeen-hundred
billion times better? It's still hard to say.
So, when I started snapping photos, the first were of him. I hadn't
introduced myself yet, and so I didn't take it personally when he yelled to
the crew, "Is this guy official?" Nor when he said "please be careful" when
he agreed to let me shake his hand. Right. I could have assured him that I
wasn't going to be the guy who was going to be responsible for "An Evening
with Yes* (featuring G.E. Smith on guitars)."
The next five hours or so the band ran through their songs. It was less of
a rehearsal than a refresher course on some of the less-often-heard numbers.
At times, Jon Anderson would step off the stage and stand near the sound
board, still singing, and wave signals to the band. At times, Steve Howe
would ask to hear the CDs he didn't play on originally, so he could copy --
perfectly -- what he heard. At times there would be a really loud squeal
from the amplifiers, and someone in the back would yell, "That's why we
rehearse!"
Hundreds of photos and hours of videotape later, we found some time to
interview the band. Time was limited, so we couldn't ask all the questions
we wanted to ask. But oddly, I felt as much urge to tell the band things as
to hear from them.
I wanted to tell them how Yes was the first concert I ever attended
(without my parents), and how I didn't realize when I yelled "Play
'Roundabout'!" after each and every song that 1., they couldn't hear me and
2. by then I was the only one in the stadium that actually wasn't totally
sick of "Roundabout" that year.
I wanted to tell them about how in the '70s I was reasonably sure I'd have
a close encounter, probably in my back yard, and that "Arriving UFO"
perpetuated that fantasy for quite some time. (I will neither confirm nor
deny still having that belief.)
And as cheesy as it would have been, I wanted to tell them how their music
continues to blow me away. And I wondered if, after 35 years, a comment
like that would still have any meaning to them.
Instead, we agreed to give Roger Dean a ride back to Seattle. So, I did get
the chance to tell at least one story. I told him how a friend and I tried
writing a novel based on his album covers. And while he laughed at the
story, he politely changed the subject.
Even Roger Dean thinks I'm a geek. Pretty cool, huh?
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