----------------------------------------------------- NOVEMBER 22, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------- Source: Milwaukee Journal Sentinel http://www.jsonline.com/onwisconsin/music/nov02/98342.asp Core music endures despite distractions at Yes concert By Jon M. Gilbertson By progressive-rock standards, the one indisputably excessive thing about the Yes concert at the Riverside Theatre on Friday night was the ticket price: $61.50. (Mind you, this was row H, seat 101, right by the aisle.) Then again, by prog-rock standards, a 10-minute keyboard solo, usually known by musician and fanatic alike as an "exploration," is considered a bit of a truncated performance. Still, the British quintet mostly kept things tidy during the Milwaukee stop of a tour celebrating or at least marking its 34th year of existence. Which isn't to say some of the exuberance didn't spill over into overindulgence. After all, legendary keyboardist Rick Wakeman had returned to the band, and with his dextrous hands placed on the other side of the stage from those of guitarist Steve Howe, the opportunity for solos/explorations was doubled, perhaps even trebled. Furthermore, Wakeman hunched inside a semicircle of more than half a dozen keyboards, arranged in two-tiered formation, and he had to find a way to use each of them. Meanwhile, a roadie kept wheeling different guitars in front of Howe so that he didn't even have to unstrap his electric to play an acoustic or pedal steel alternative. Wakeman was no Oscar Peterson (or Ben Folds or Warren Zevon), and Howe was certainly no Jimi Hendrix (or Richard Thompson or Wayne Kramer), but they kept their sounds varied and interesting. Meanwhile, closer to stage center, Jon Anderson sang with the same hoarse, reedy and oddly appealing voice he's used since the beginning. Likewise, the passage of time hadn't taken much of the low counterpoint from fellow Yes founding member Chris Squire's backing vocals, and his bass playing retained the tiny funkiness that long ago became a band trademark. (Combined with Alan White's comparatively modest but steady drumming, Squire's bass also kept up the momentum when the vaunted virtuosos got bogged down.) So some things about Yes aged well. Others did not. The band's mystical side hadn't grown any less mush-headed since ye olde hippie daze of the '60s and '70s. The lyrics constantly masked vagueness as profundity. And from "Long Distance Runaround" to "Close to the Edge" and "Heart of the Sunrise," the best-remembered songs gradually but inevitably merged into a single track of a circular, faux-intricate melody more technically constructed than artistically achieved. However, Yes almost packed the Riverside, leaving only a couple of back rows empty, and almost everyone in the audience went absolutely nuts. Standing ovations were more common than trips to the bathroom. Perhaps the crowd reaction was another excessive thing about the show. Then again, by prog-rock standards, no one was on hallucinogens. Close Window YesInThePress.com For site comments, problems, corrections, or additions, contact YesinthePress@aol.com