Source: The Yes Chronicles
http://www.geocities.com/SunsetStrip/Concert/8459/theladder.html
Review: The Ladder
Author Unknown
"... There was no keyboard player around (during Open Your Eyes). ... So,
Jon pulled out a tape of a keyboard player, Igor Khoroshev, this young guy
who sent him a tape years ago. ... After that process, then touring that
album, we became friends, and he became musically cohesive with the band.
We knew, let's just go write an album with the six of us and see what
happens, and we came up with The Ladder." -- Billy Sherwood,
Music Street Journal (2000)
"I'm enjoying this particular incarnation of the band. ... I think we have
to thank Billy Sherwood. ... He's brought a lot of enthusiasm with him and
encouraged us to write new songs. A lot of the energy comes from him." --
Chris Squire, Innerviews (1998)
"Personally, I would be thrilled if we could deliver Close To The Edge--The
Sequel, but I think this is no longer possible. The Yes Album, Fragile, and
Close To The Edge are the result of a very close collaboration of people
who were much younger than they are today, of people who had a huge
ambition. ... It would no longer have the chemistry like we used to have.
That's a fact we have to live with." -- Steve Howe,
Progressive World (1999)
The Ladder
Beyond 1999
Rating: ***
Best song: "Homeworld (The Ladder)"
Produced by Bruce Fairbairn
Cover and logo by Roger Dean
Engineer: Mike Plotnikoff
Second engineer: Paul Silveira
Horns by Tom Keenlyside, Derry Burns, Rod Murray, Tom Colclough, Neil Nicholson
World instruments by Randy Raine-Reusch
Dance loops by Rhys Fulber
Personnel:
Jon Anderson: vocals
Steve Howe: guitars, vocals
Chris Squire: bass, vocals
Billy Sherwood: guitars, vocals
Igor Khoroshev: keyboards, vocals
Alan White: percussion, vocals
Track listing (standout tracks in bold):
Homeworld (The Ladder)
It Will Be a Good Day (The River)
Lightning Strikes
Can I?
Face to Face
If Only You Knew
To Be Alive (Hep Yadda)
Finally
The Messenger
New Language
Nine Voices (Longwalker)
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
It's hard to know what to make of this album. To its credit, it presents a
fresh Yes sound that is really neither "Trooper" not "Generator." One track
is brilliant; a few others are very good. And overall, it was probably the
most collaborative band effort since Drama, with every other Yes album
since that time never quite having been made equally by all the members,
from a clean slate, in a single setting--traits that marked all the band's
"classic" albums. (Yes, even as a huge fan of Talk, I'm admitting this.)
Yet there is a downside to The Ladder as well: Sometimes it sounds more
like a Jon Anderson solo album, at other times it's just dull and lifeless,
and in its worst moments it rips off the band's own history. No doubt
thanks to high-profile producer Bruce Fairbairn (who, sadly, died during
the recording of the album), The Ladder has a pronounced laid-back, smooth,
polished, and almost "hip" feeling to it, sounding so adult-contemporary in
overall style (even on the "progressive" tracks) that one could be excused
for thinking that the whole album was tailored toward the VH1 nostalgia
scene. In all candor, it's even more nostalgiac than the Keys to Ascension
albums, because while the Keys discs strongly referenced the spirit of '70s
Yes, many parts of The Ladder blatantly recycle Yes's own '70s work lock,
stock, and barrel and just repackage it. Hardcore fans have pointed out a
bass line on "New Language" that's lifted directly from "Roundabout," while
"Nine Voices" regurgitates "Your Move," and "Can I?" is "We Have Heaven,"
with some really embarrassing scatting thrown in and the tempo slowed down.
Nonetheless, upon its release, The Ladder was met with great anticipation
as a first listen to the new lineup of the band that had been touring
together since 1997 but never had the opportunity to work on an entire
album from scratch in the studio. Billy Sherwood still hadn't shown what he
was capable of doing (Open Your Eyes was certainly not indicative of his
abilities), and Igor Khoroshev held great promise as the new keyboardist.
For most of its first half-hour, the album doesn't disappoint. But what's
interesting is that it seems the best ideas on The Ladder do indeed
originate from the new kids on the block--Sherwood and Khoroshev. After
taking a listen to Sherwood's excellent 1998 solo album The Big Peace, one
can immediately hear his songwriting stamp all over The Ladder's opening,
and best, song, "Homeworld." Here he proves he's able to compose within the
framework of the "classic" Yes formula and move it forward with exciting
new ideas. His strength in the band was unquestionably as a songwriter and,
possibly, even as an arranger, for even though he may not have made a
noticeably audible statement through anything but his effective backing
vocals, he did have a knack for blending traditional progressive-rock song
structures with modern-rock sensibilities. Meanwhile, Khoroshev quietly
goes about his work on the album, sounding very much like Rick Wakeman in
spots, but with an added bonus--Khoroshev knows when to solo and when to
back off and be an accompanist. What's more, he masterfully blends
classical grace and beauty with traditional prog-rock keyboard sounds and
styles, and also with contemporary--and highly danceable--synth-pop.
Rivaled only by Sherwood, his contributions seemed to go the furthest on
this album toward trying to keep Yes relevant and up-to-date.
At the same time, however, it was clear that not every member of the band
even wanted Yes to be relevant and up-to-date. In addition to the blatant
'70s repackagings in the music, we see that Roger Dean has returned to
paint the album cover. This wouldn't be so bad, except that it's yet
another one of his now-generic molten-rock landscapes on yet another blue
background that does nothing to set this album apart from other recent ones
featuring his artwork. If not for the "block" Yes logo replacing the
"classic" logo at the top, you wouldn't know at a quick glance that this
wasn't one of the Keys to Ascension albums. As for the band itself, Steve
Howe proclaimed in interviews at the time that this album had to be
successful in order for Yes to survive, which seemed to be his way of
justifying the more accessible style of The Ladder. However, his heart is
stuck in the '70s, as he seems to be the only reason Dean is kept around
(Howe is good friends with Dean), and of course he has always been quick to
let people know whether he deems the music Yes is creating to be really Yes
music--read, long-form '70s redux--or not. In fact, it was quite amusing at
the time to see Howe backpedaling and trying to justify the new direction
being taken on The Ladder after slamming so many previous Yes albums as
being "not Yes" if they were too pop-oriented and/or didn't feature him on
guitar. So, who else in the band seems stuck in the past? Well, Jon
Anderson's aforementioned vocal collage "Can I?" (a title that begs the
question, "did you have to?") kind of speaks for itself.
Chris Squire seems to be somewhere in between, never missing a chance on
The Ladder to stroll down memory lane but still coming up with fresh ideas
on his bass and also apparently hungry for a return to rock superstardom
that he briefly enjoyed in the wake of "Owner of a Lonely Heart." And to
his credit, he has also, in at least one interview, questioned the wisdom
of continuing to use Dean for the album covers.
And then we have Alan White. Alan White is Alan White--he's the Yes
diplomat who seems to merrily go along with what everyone else wants to do.
So out of this mixed bag of goodies we get The Ladder, which is somewhat
similar to Talk in its approach in that it seems to be trying to please
fans of both the "Trooper" and "Generator" eras. The difference between the
two albums' approaches, however, is that while Talk actually melded the
style of both eras into single song structures, The Ladder alternates
between pure adult-contemporary pop tunes ("If Only You Knew," "It Will Be
a Good Day") and "progressive" compositions ("Homeworld," "New Language"),
with not a whole lot of middle ground. The intention in this approach, at
least in this album's case and judging by Howe's "Yes must succeed"
proclamation, was certainly to try to get the band noticed again on the
popular scene.
Of course, that didn't happen. Not Fairbairn, not a tie-in with a video
game, not a free concert on satellite TV, not a concert DVD, not even a
two-CD live collection from the tour bumped the disappointing sales of this
album. But that doesn't mean this album is disposable by any means. On the
"pop" side, "Face to Face" deftly acknowledges modern dance-rock trends,
even if it does sound more like Starcastle, a '70s Yes ripoff band, than it
sounds like Yes itself; "It Will Be a Good Day" is prime soft-rock-radio
fare; and "If Only You Knew" is an unabashed VH1-ready adult contemporary
ballad that's actually very pleasant, thanks to some subtle steel-guitar
embellishments and Anderson's often moving vocal performance. "Lightning
Strikes" is good fun, too, with the opening flute doodles (presumably
played on a Mellotron) followed by a short bossa nova groove recalling the
whimsy of the jarring horn blasts from "Owner of a Lonely Heart." The song
continues with Howe playing a jangly 7/4 acoustic-guitar rhythm to set the
stage for a joyous African-township atmosphere that begs comparison to Paul
Simon's "You Can Call Me Al."
And for the diehard proggers, we have two mini-epics: the marvelous
"Homeworld," which takes the traditional expansive, adventurous,
exploratory fashion of vintage Yes music and propels it into the future,
with colorful instrumentation and great harmony vocals (all six members
sing on this album!); and the disappointing "New Language," which tries to
do the same thing, and even has a creative, energetic introduction (with a
high-octane organ solo by Khoroshev) to build up our hopes, but it
ultimately loses its way, suffering from the dreaded Topographic syndrome
of sounding like a forced, overly long, unfocused collection of aimless
noodling, unrelated ideas, and failed attempts to be cute.
The rest of the album just sort of sits there, lacking in anything that
makes you sit up and take notice and compels you to want to listen to it
again. None of the music on The Ladder is offensively bad, as opposed to
much of Open Your Eyes; it's just that a lot of it seems flat and
uninspired, sounding like a band that's going through the motions of being
Yes, rather than challenging each other to bring out the best in each
musician--which also was a defining trait of every great album from the
"classic" era.
Even the duller moments are bearable, if nothing else, but there certainly
are plenty of offerings here that could just as easily been left on the
cutting-room floor without detracting from the finished product. In fact,
without three or four tracks seriously dragging things down, I would give
this album a higher rating than I did. But, in the age of 74-minute CDs,
bands seem to feel compelled to tack on pointless filler that would have
had to be sacrificed in the days of LPs.
The other problems, of course, revolve around Anderson and Howe's
nostalgiac mindset. And musically, White is very disappointing through most
of the album. He doesn't move much past very pedestrian drumbeats that any
computer could have churned out. It sounds as though he's on autopilot
through most of this recording.
But at least he's in better musical shape than Howe, whose talents have
been eroding for several years, which everybody but Howe seems to notice.
In fact, one of those unintentionally funny Yes moments crops up on "Face
to Face," where Anderson chimes in with an exuberant "C'mon, Steve" before
Howe breaks into a remarkably forced, lifeless solo that sounds as if he's
struggling with all his might to release each note from his guitar--in this
context, it's almost as if Anderson isn't encouraging Howe so much as he is
begging him to play something fresh and fluid. It's tempting to have pity
on the guy, except that he's such an insufferable prima donna--he's never
been one to be associated with the concept of humility, but in recent years
he seems to have become a true legend in his own mind, even despite his
fading skills. He has shooshed and snapped at audience members from the
stage while he ruminates on his self-important solos (I've witnessed this
myself, and no, I was not the one being shooshed), let loose with a
now-legendary burst of obscenity at a light operator during a sound check,
refuses to shake hands (according to Peter Banks, who says he endorses the
policy in Howe's case), never wants to play any other Yes guitarist's
parts, and had a fit and walked off stage at Madison Square Garden on Yes's
35th anniversary tour because the crowd wouldn't stop cheering (how dare
they show their appreciation) to let the band play the ending acoustic bit
of "And You and I." Howe responded to the crowd appreciation by coming back
onstage without his 12-string guitar. Howe has also said openly that he
didn't like sharing the guitar spotlight with Sherwood--onstage or in the
studio--when Sherwood already had been handcuffed into playing rhythm
guitar on the album and could take a solo onstage only during the Rabin
songs, which Howe won't, and in all likelihood probably can't, play. In one
interview, Howe went so far as to try to take credit for playing "all the
guitars" on The Ladder, and he even made sure we notice all the different
kinds of guitars he plays on the album by listing them in the liner notes.
All the while, he kept churning out the same old tired ideas from those
same old tired guitars, and he couldn't even pull them off as well as he
could in the past. The next album, Magnification, finally suggests that
maybe he got the hint, and rather than continue to try to play the way he
did in his prime, he settles back a little bit, plays like a member of the
band rather than a soloist pushing others aside, adds a few new instruments
to the repertoire, and even sounds more tasteful and accurate in his
playing. But even so, he still remains the band's weakest link, and at the
time of The Ladder, his intransigence toward Sherwood was reportedly a
factor in Sherwood's decision to leave the band after the ensuing tour was
finished.
At least Squire still showed a creative spark among the band's "old guard"
on this album. His lead-guitar-playing style still resonates, as he
continued to push forward and simply sounds like he was having a ball
coming up with his invigorating lines on "Face to Face," "Lightning
Strikes," and the otherwise forgettable "The Messenger"--a wickedly sinewy
line on that last one to boot.
The vocal harmonies here were vastly improved over those on recent Yes
albums as well, thanks in part to the addition of Sherwood and Khoroshev's
voices, as well as Fairbairn's expertise, which no doubt was what helped
give every voice a chance to breathe rather than be crowded out.
Fairbairn told the members of Yes when he began working with them to simply
make the best Yes album possible. In truth, the band probably could have
done much better than this, for although many of the songs here are indeed
interesting, it's hard to consider any of them timeless Yes classics,
outside of "Homeworld." Given that the album didn't propel Yes back into
stardom, as seemed to be the hope, it didn't appear likely that the band
would make another album that chased mainstream acclaim and radio play, as
The Ladder did.
And they didn't ... at least not with their next release. But in the
meantime, it appeared that the band's immediate response to the lack of
Ladder success was to jump back on the retro bandwagon, offering nothing in
the way of new ideas. The "Masterworks" tour, performed after Sherwood's
departure, focused entirely on the mid-'70s Yes catalog, the setlist
allegedly having been based on fans' song requests taken from a poll at
Yesworld.
Even "Owner of a Lonely Heart" was nowhere
to be heard on the tour. Interviews at the time suggested that Anderson and
Howe in particular wanted to move Yes back into the "classic Yes" vein of
songwriting displayed in "Masterworks" classics such as "Close to the Edge"
and "The Gates of Delirium," while Squire didn't seem to be quite sold on
the idea. Squire's collaboration with Sherwood on the Conspiracy album, in
fact, shows where Yes's recent commercial leanings had found their base.
But it was clear that chasing hit singles hadn't brought Yes back into the
public spotlight, and the Yesworld poll emphatically showed that Yes's
remaining fan base wasn't interested in seeing the band continuing to move
in that direction anyway. Although a Yes that is purely retro-'70s, a la
Keys to Ascension 2, wouldn't say much in the way of true progressiveness,
it seemed at the time to be the only way Yes could hold on to its core base
of fans as the band headed into the twilight of its career. Fans could only
hope that the music would be done only in the style of "classic" Yes,
rather than as a pure rehash of old ideas, as heard on many portions of The
Ladder.
But as it turned out, Yes would surprise everyone by not chasing hits and
not going purely retro. After the "Masterworks" tour, Yes conducted another
poll at Yesworld to see whether fans would like to see the band work with
an orchestra. Although the poll result was far from a resounding "yes," the
band went ahead and embarked on a tour utilizing local orchestral groups in
the towns they visited, performing orchestrated versions of many old Yes
classics but also tossing in a few songs from their upcoming album that
also would feature an orchestra. It's a safe bet that Yes decided to go
this route despite a tepid showing of fan support because it needed
something to fill the vacant keyboard slot after Khoroshev and the band
parted company following the "Masterworks" tour. In effect, then, the
orchestra became the keyboardist, even though Yes also brought along a
hired gun, Tom Brislin, to handle some of the keyboard duties onstage.
Nobody could have known what to expect from Anderson, Howe, Squire, and
White working with an orchestra, other than possessing the knowledge that
Yes's last attempt at orchestral collaboration back in 1970 left something
to be desired. So it came as a pleasant surprise to discover that the
follow-up to the so-so Ladder project would qualify as a monumental
artistic success.
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