----------------------------------------------------- NOVEMBER 9, 1972  ----------------------------------------------------- Source: Rolling Stone Magazine Yes - Close To The Edge By Richard Cromelin  With "Close to the Edge," their fifth album, Yes have formed a coherent musical language from the elements that have been kicked around by progressive rockers for ages. The fears raised by "Fragile" that they might work themselves into a technically superb but emotionally destitute corner are washed away by three extended pieces whose only failings are an over-concern with making sure that every moment is marked by the highly identifiable Yes sound (where a bit more variety and daring would be a welcome change) and lyrics that too often serve as a barrier rather than a link between listener and music. Side one is completely devoted to the title track. As usual -- and that "as usual" could get to be a real problem very soon if more attention isn't paid to varying what has become an almost formulized pattern -- it opens with a long introductory instrumental break (after a shimmering sound effect fade-in of pattering rain, chirping birds and tinkling bells) led by Steve Howe's guitar and seguing into the modestly majestic main figure. When Jon Anderson's voice enters the scene it's knockout time again. Though a noticeable distance between his singing and direct, basic emotion is established through a stylized phrasing and a slightly lofty, diffident tone, he is nonetheless engaging and human, although it's too bad the words he's given himself to sing are often inaccessible. Convolutions are unfortunately prevelent in Yes' songs. Their best lyrics are brief, straight-ahead phrases that don't try to mean a lot internally but simply add a quasi-literal dimension that supplements the music's mood -- like the recurring "I get up, I get down" that first appears toward the end of this initial movement ("The Solid Time of Change"). In "Total Mass Retain" the music bunches and becomes more urgent. A soft organ solo leads us into  "I Get Up I Get Down" proper, in which the complex vocal interplay among lots of Andersons, Howes and Squires gradually builds up to Wakeman's gorgeously bombastic multi-keyboard workout. Howe's echoey acoustic 12 string is the focus of "And You and I," which, with some editing, is the best candidate for a follow-up single to "Roundabout." Featuring Anderson's happiest, jauntiest singing and a catchy melody, it is a fine example of Yes' gift for a subtly building from a soft, contemplative mood to a mighty plateau through a slowly shifting emphasis and gradual layering of elements within an instrumental break. "Siberian Khatru," the final cut, is built on a simple pattern that is nicely developed and modified through the course of the song. Cryptic words and phrases abound, but they don't get in the way of some beautiful vocal interaction, a surprising, well-integrated sitar segment and a cascading harpsichord solo by Wakeman that almost tickles. Yes' music is best looked at as a sound painting, with no more meaning and little less beauty than a Monet canvas. Actually, Chinese painting might provide a more appropriate analogy, in both style and concern. Yes' colors are subtle, almost imperceptible tints, but the main strokes are bold and thick, applied with sureness and natural instinct. "But is it rock & roll?" they scream. Does it matter? Close Window YesInThePress.com For site comments, problems, corrections, or additions, contact YesinthePress@aol.com