------------------------------------------------------- DECEMBER 7, 2001 ------------------------------------------------------- Source: The Scotsman http://www.entertainment.scotsman.com/headlines_specific.cfm\?id=4649 Prog in its pomp By Fiona Shepherd It could have been Peter Gabriel’s decision to dress up as a flower, or Rick Wakeman’s medieval jousting tournament on ice to promote his Myths and Legends of King Arthur and The Knights of The Round Table album that started the anti-progressive rock lobby in earnest. Punk certainly put the nail in the coffin and continues to wield its boorish influence with the mantra "ten chords bad, two chords good", so that suspicion of triple concept albums with an ornate fantasy sleeve by Roger Dean prevails to this day. Prog rock has always been an easy scapegoat. It’s not pretty, it’s often not tuneful and it is, by nature, excessive. But if you’re going to be progist, at least listen to some of this gloriously over-the-top music and know your enemy, rather than chucking brickbats at harmless grown men in pixie costumes who just want to play with their latest musical gadgets. Rock lore would be much poorer without the antics of these lovable buffoons. Wakeman, during his time as Yes keyboard supremo, once pushed a man offstage for interrupting his solo, only to be informed later that he had been man-handling the band’s special guest - Salvador Dalí. Their singer Jon Anderson bemused his colleagues with plans to record an album outdoors. Unable to assemble the necessary hardware in the middle of a field, he ordered that bales of hay be brought into the studio for that essential bucolic ambience. Even now, Yes (or some of them at any rate) will happily send up their own pomposity. On their last tour, bassist Chris Squire proudly showcased his triple-necked guitar, only to be trumped by singer Jon Anderson producing a portable harp from the folds of his voluminous eastern attire. Top entertainment. Such unabashed eccentricity in rock should be encouraged, unless Westlife and Stereophonics are to triumph. Their current tour, to promote new album Magnification, is their first outing with a full orchestra since a one-off gig in 1969. It is not such a great leap from this enterprise to recent distended prog excursions from Spiritualised and Mercury Rev and that is why the reputation of progressive rock and its practitioners is changing. Only recently, Vincent Gallo, pugnacious film auteur, aspiring musician and all-round barometer of cool, was quoted singing the praises of Chris Squire, who he has come to regard as some sort of lifestyle guru. While this is not quite the same thing as if, say, Courtney Love were to name Marillion’s Script For A Jester’s Tear album as her greatest musical influence, there is musical evidence elsewhere that prog can be appropriated by the under-40s and, in some cases, integrated with its traditional enemy, punk rock. Two years ago indie upstarts Mansun released their terrific second album, Six - a prog-punk odyssey in two parts with a spoken word interlude from Tom Baker in the middle and a fabulous, fussy baroque sleeve - which stunned as many listeners as it appalled. Beck’s keyboard player and Finnish synth overlord Jimi Tenor have long been students of Wakeman’s sartorial school and now hip French duo Air have taken to strutting about their Floydian landscape in starched black capes. In the past year, young bands have been scaling the acceptable face of prog - especially Muse, who are baptising incredibly young kids into the pomp faith under cover of their guise as top rock mentalists, in much the same way that it was easy enough for spotty adolescents in the 1970s to gravitate from Black Sabbath to a spot of King Crimson. Well, that’s the theory. Unfortunately, when it comes to arranging an interview with Yes in order to further shore up the prog defence, it transpires that Anderson never does press on the day of a show and Squire is indisposed - probably off polishing his triple-necked bass or being all mentorish with Vincent Gallo. So the responsibility falls to guitarist Steve Howe, the one member of the band who seems determined to advocate the dark side of the prog. "Progressive rock was a follow-on from the freedoms of psychedelia," he begins, quite reasonably. "Prog was saying music didn’t have to be conventional, it can be orchestral, it can be avant-garde. "I remember NME calling us ‘the people’s band’ in 1973," he continues. "But Britain is very fashion-conscious and once it was good to knock us, it was really good to knock us. We weren’t the most fashionable group but we were the most dedicated - dedicated to the idea that this kind of musicality and the value of musicianship was not something you could dispense with. But the general public saw it slightly differently." Howe recalls with disdain the band’s excursion into more poppy territory in the 1980s, while he was off fondling his guitar collection in Asia (the group, not the continent). "Yes, like other prog groups, were confused for a while and did go in a more commercial direction," he says. "Genesis did the same thing and had masses of hits and Phil Collins was in everyone’s face. Gradually, Yes have awoken to this and stopped doing stupid records." Ouch. Pretty soon, Howe is off on one about "the colourisation of the moment" and "the multi-guitar family", declaring it’s all about professionalism ("you do have to know how to play"). But although a big fan of musical complexity, Howe has little time for the theatrical ephemera that make prog bands such a blast to see live. He is particularly chuffed that Yes pioneered the use of the round stage and did away with over-the-top stage sets. "In those days, more scenery was supposed to mean a better show," he says. Naturally - it was a distraction during the drum solo. Next, he’ll be turning his nose up at the fantastic, hilariously ostentatious performances. "Chris has always been a bit flamboyant, if not a bit hammy sometimes," he says, rather testily. "But we allow ourselves that freedom in this band. Jon’s presence is nothing like Chris’s which is nothing like mine. I find my priority is to get my guitar sounding great and I get on with the show. Showmanship can make a good night out but I don’t think it’s all about kneeling on the floor or doing the duckwalk across the stage. It’s also about delivering your music with conviction. Some bands think you can just stand there and look trendy or move like it’s still punk, jumping up and down with sweat and beer pouring off them." The horror. Of course, flamboyance is ace. Beck didn’t get to be the coolest dude in Christendom by hunching over an acoustic guitar. All hail Chris Squire and his flouncy shirts. Howe seems unaware that prog’s flashy visual, as much as aural, heritage is falling into talented hands these days. Has he seen Air and their vampire capes? Has he heard the Muse album? "Er, I can’t pinpoint that I have. I played with Dream Theater [ridiculous prog metal band] once. They wanted to play a Yes song with me. But I like the great groups of our time like The Byrds and Vanilla Fudge." Vanilla Fudge? Has Howe been asleep since the 1960s? Perhaps the career of Yes has all been a dream with a few nightmarish tangents and additional colouring in by Roger Dean. Perhaps the greatest folly associated with prog is the desire to defend its ludicrous pomposity. Thankfully, Howe is not an entirely humourless old prog warhorse who is sniffy about his bandmates’ excesses and only cares how many intricate guitar parts he gets to perform. He can look back and laugh too. "We don’t take ourselves seriously all the time," he says. "When we did Topographic Oceans, I was dressed up as an Afghani farmer. So we all took on roles and had fun doing that. I can’t say I regret any of it." Yes play the Clyde Auditorium, Glasgow, 9 December. Close Window YesInThePress.com For site comments, problems, corrections, or additions, contact YesinthePress@aol.com