------------------------------------------------------- JUNE 16, 2004 ------------------------------------------------------- Source: Drowned in Sound http://www.drownedinsound.com/articles/9824 Yes: London Wembley Arena By Michael Diver Jon Anderson has lost it. It’s almost three hours since he and the band he's fronted for 35 years, Yes, first walked onto the stage – adorned with bizarre props that are considerably more Pete Fowler than they are Roger Dean – but finally, after waffling on between songs about the band’s new acoustic album (coughplugcough), he’s snapped: “Love, love is everything… and this is a ritual… love… a ritual… bananas”. Lost it. Shame, because for the past, ooooh, ages (my hair's grown an inch since I sat down), Yes have been pretty damn good, and I say that without the merest sliver of irony. From the word go – ‘Going For The One’ – they entrance; this is as much theatre as it is rock music, even if bassist Chris Squire, with shirt blousoned to its legal limits, prances about like a prize tit and cocks his leg like an aborigine every five minutes or so. Sure, Yes are far from the vital (to some) act that they were in the early-to-mid 1970s, but, as tonight’s massive crowd testifies, their appeal has dwindled little. Progressive they may not be by today’s standards, but rock they certainly can. ‘Yours Is No Disgrace’ closes the set’s first half (as with all good theatrical performances, there is a 15-minute interval. Ice cream anyone?). It’s memorable for a moment where Squire and keyboard-playing mad scientist (it’s the cape that does it) Rick Wakeman, surplus to requirements whilst guitarist Steve Howe solos, move to the side of the stage for a chinwag. They're probably wondering where they left Anderson's medication. The second half fails to match the first – the band strip the likes of ‘Roundabout’ and crossover hit ‘Owner Of A Lonely Heart’ down to their raw foundations in support of their acoustic collection, and in doing so tear the hearts from them – but is notable for a stirring ‘And You And I' and a sweet interpretation of ‘Wondrous Stories’, a song played at my parents’ wedding no less. It’s during the second half that Anderson truly goes bananas, walking/falling through the crowd like Rip Taylor with a bad hip and generally eclipsing the increasingly-flamboyant (in his head, at least) Squire. Half the words that come out of Anderson’s mouth are cringe-worthy, and you’ve got to ask the question: what relevance do these words have to a man who wrote them as much as 35 years ago? Surely the meaning behind them has faded into nothingness? At least they still mean something to the massed ranks of people reliving their musical youth, and they’re rewarded with a rampant run through of ‘Starship Trooper’ as an encore. The only thing missing come its conclusion is a curtain call, although they do assemble for something resembling a bow. Now, I don’t consider this any kind of ritual, nor do I have much love for a quintet of guys who should really have retired to some quaint Dorset village years ago rather than continue to pack out arenas around the world (call me ageist, whatever, but really old guys and rock don't mix), but what I do have is a new-found appreciation for them. Yes can still cut it, even if they are alarmingly full of themselves. Then again, if my band had lasted 35 years I’d be a smug little shit too. Close Window YesInThePress.com For site comments, inquiries, corrections, or additions, contact yitp@yesservices.com