Source: The Yes Chronicles
http://www.geocities.com/SunsetStrip/Concert/8459/talk.html
Review: Talk
Author Unknown
"I thought Talk was a 90125 of the nineties." -- Alan White, interview with
Tim Morse, in Morse’s
Yesstories: Yes in Their Own Words (1996)
"I’m very happy with what Trevor and Jon came up with." -- Chris Squire,
1994, as documented in
Yesstories (1996)
"I think it ('Endless Dream') is exactly as good as anything we’ve ever
done. … I’m in heaven when I’m singing that like I am when I do 'Close to
the Edge' or 'Awaken.' It really works on a par with them." -- Jon
Anderson, 1994, as documented in
Yesstories (1996)
"I had so much fun while I was doing it ('Endless Dream'). I'll never
forget that when Jon came in to sing the backing track, he had tears in his
eyes." -- Trevor Rabin, from Chris Welch's liner notes in the
re-release of Talk (2002)
"In most respects it’s a good record, except to the point of being a Yes
record. It doesn’t seem to be a Yes record." -- Steve Howe, 1994, as
documented in
Yesstories (1996)
"I find it very presumptuous of him (Steve) to make these comments. … I
don’t think that is only a slight on me; I think it’s a slight on everyone.
It sounds like he’s saying ‘Without me there can’t be anything that
remotely resembles Yes.’" -- Trevor Rabin, interview with Tim Morse, in
Yesstories (1996)
Talk
Victory 1994
Re-release: Spitfire 2002
Rating: ****
Best song: "Endless Dream"
Produced by Trevor Rabin
Cover by Peter Max
Engineers: Michael Jay and Trevor Rabin
Personnel:
Jon Anderson: vocals
Trevor Rabin: guitars, keyboards, vocals
Chris Squire: bass, vocals
Tony Kaye: organ
Alan White: percussion
Track listing (standout tracks in bold):
The Calling
I Am Waiting
Real Love
State of Play
Walls
Where Will You Be
Endless Dream:
a. Silent Spring
b. Talk
c. Endless Dream
Bonus track on 2002 re-release: The Calling (Special Version)
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Bill Bruford spared no words in his disdain for the Union project, calling
it the only album in his entire body of work (and it is quite an extensive
one) by which he is embarrassed. In truth, perhaps nobody but eternal
optimist Jon Anderson was happy with the end result, but at least one
member, Steve Howe, was in favor of trying to keep the good intentions of
the Union project alive by proposing that Yes continue in its extended
lineup, with people rotating regularly in and out to give all the members a
chance to have their own space. It was a good enough idea, and probably the
only way the extended lineup could have continued, considering the size of
the egos involved, but Howe’s proposal was ultimately scuttled, along with Howe himself.
Meanwhile, longtime Yes associate Phil Carson had just started a new record
label, Victory Music. He approached the band with a vision for a new Yes
album, with the caveat that he wanted the 90125 lineup in the studio and
Trevor Rabin as the producer. That offer seemed to give Yes the direction
it so desperately sought and needed after Union, so plans were set in
motion for the album that was to become Talk.
A first listen to this album may suggest to some that Yes intentionally
went out of its way to appease the old-time fans of "classic" Yes whose
hopes had been raised with ABWH and then dashed in the aftermath of
Union--after all, the band had won the old fans back with the previous
tour, and they comprised a sizable base of listeners that was worth trying
to hold onto. But the unique style heard on Talk is, I contend, more a
natural evolution of the YesWest style heard on the well-crafted
introduction to "Miracle of Life" on Union. It was a sound that originated
there and blossomed to near perfection by the time the band completed Talk.
And that sound is a rich, fresh, invigorating approach that combined the
best elements of ’70s Yes and ’80s Yes into a vibrant new musical vision,
poised to take Yes boldly in an exciting new direction. In the spirit of a
band that thinks itself progressive (or at least aware of the "progressive"
label that has long been ascribed to it), Yes took the powerhouse
AOR-injected art-rock style that characterized YesWest and added a healthy
dose of the ambience and the longer, more elaborate, exploratory frameworks
that were the hallmark of "classic" Yes--the best of both musical
worlds--to create something new upon which to build.
So why was the album a colossal commercial failure?
Perhaps there was no longer an audience for Yes music, or at least for
AOR-style music, which by 1994 was a dead format in the wake of the
"alternative" music revolution. Perhaps the old-time fans saw that Howe,
Bruford, and Rick Wakeman were no longer involved and never gave the music
a chance. Or perhaps they were oblivious to the fact that Yes was even
continuing beyond the Union tour, which is a possibility given the
horrendous lack of marketing this album received. Victory, in fact, would
go belly-up not long after Talk, and with the way the label made albums by
big-name acts like Yes and ELP and even David Bowie’s band Tin Machine
virtually invisible, by way of an astounding failure to publicize their
products, it’s little wonder.
Whatever the case, it wasn’t due to Talk being a bad album. Indeed, it is
Rabin’s crowning achievement with Yes and was, up to that time, easily the
band’s most original, forward-looking, exciting album since Drama, perhaps
even Going for the One. More than that, it is probably the closest Yes has
ever come to achieving, on an album-wide level, its original goal of
balancing gorgeous multipart vocal harmonies with quality musicianship; on
past albums and in previous incarnations, either the harmonies or the music
tended to dominate.
The band was high on this album upon its release, and with very good
reason: For something this artistically satisfying to come out of the
carnage of Union is nothing short of a miracle. Perhaps that’s what
Anderson and his cohorts allude to when they joyously sing the opening
lines of the album: "Feel the calling of a miracle/In the presence of the
word/Now we hold the right to rearrange/How the stories can be heard." In
those lines to "The Calling," we can see a re-energized band making a
powerful statement: They are looking confidently into the future, knowing
they hold the key to reinvent, or "rearrange," themselves and the sound
that defines Yes. From Rabin’s bright, compressed opening guitar lines,
which call to mind--of all things--the lighthearted mood of Van Halen’s
"Finish What You Started," there seems to be a renewed self-assuredness and
energy poised to open Yes music up to fresh and inviting territory. By the
time we get to the bursting joy dancing out of Tony Kaye’s delicious
Hammond organ break, we can feel all the bad vibes from the Union project
melting away and the clouds parting as the band looks to start anew: "In
the beginning is the future/And the future is at hand," and later, "There’s
a fire burning in my heart again."
And that’s just the opening track! Next up is "I Am Waiting," an achingly
beautiful love ballad that takes the longing of "Final Eyes" and moves it
one step further, with two main guitar lines carrying the piece: a
delicate, almost weeping slide-guitar feel that would be at home on any
"classic" Yes album, alternating with a sweeping anthemic statement of
grandeur and grace--rather like a sheepish question mark being followed by
a thunderous exclamation point, which perfectly matches the alternating
moods of the lyrics themselves: plaintive statements of wanting to love
someone, followed by an emphatic declaration that the person’s love will
somehow be won. "All my life, my world is you," Anderson proclaims as the
song ends, with him carrying the torch in hopeful anticipation: "I am
waiting! Can you hear me? Can you hear me?" The only thing that detracts
slightly from this piece is a brief bridge that breaks into a hard-rock
rhythm, with Rabin singing about a seemingly unrelated "secretive birth"
before things cool back down to the opening slide-guitar riff. Maybe the
band thought they needed to bring the piece to a fevered peak to offer some
contrast and/or transition, but it really was unnecessary.
Overall, Anderson sounds on Talk as if he’s enjoying himself again. No
doubt that’s due to his ideas no longer being put aside while the rest of
the band made an album apart from his full participation. In fact, he was
involved from the very beginning this time, and Rabin saw to it that he
was. The two band leaders literally locked themselves away and, for the
first time since they began working together, truly collaborated on the
songs that made their way onto the new Yes album. The results are on Talk
for all to hear: they obviously clicked as a songwriting team and brought
out the best in each other on a creative level.
Nowhere is this heard more clearly than on the album’s magnum opus, a
15-minute epic called "Endless Dream." Commencing with a cyclone of
whirling, frenetic energy that recalls the urgency of the opening from
"Close to the Edge," we’re treated to a masterful display of both guitars
and keyboards by Rabin, as well as some of Alan White’s finest drumming in
years. Nearly two minutes into the proceedings, the cacophony grinds to a
halt to be replaced by a gentle solo piano line that introduces the song’s
first vocal theme, sung by Rabin--a cynical take on the misuse of religion
(shades once again of "Close to the Edge"!), and the importance of being
true to oneself and not sidetracked by temptations. As the piece modulates
into a new theme, Anderson sings vaguely about reaching out to life and the
world with love, and as we progress further, we find that this love can be
maintained even through the tough times by, once again, reaching inside
oneself: "When the world brings you down, you can search you inside, for
the love you can find." Thus, the lyrical theme is both resolved and
brought full circle. All the while, the musical backdrop ebbs and flows,
alternating between sublime beauty and dramatic, muscular power. We’re
treated to an ethereal, free-flowing middle section punctuated by a soaring
Rabin solo; an electronic lightning storm of multiple manipulated guitars;
an interweaving of sweeping crescendos, alternating moods, ever-changing
soundscapes, and revisited themes; heavenly vocal arrangements whose beauty
brought Anderson to tears in the studio (so he says); a final majestic
guitar solo; and a hushed, near-whispered tone, much like a gentle lullaby,
to bring the events to a peaceful resolution, as a quiet electronic whoosh
finally pans across the landscape, like an eraser across a chalkboard, to
lead us to contented silence--the end of our journey. This is an amazing
work; between Drama in 1980 and Magnification in 2001, no other single
piece of Yes music rises to this level.
The other big highlight is "Real Love"--not so much for the words, which
seem to have something to do with the universality of emotions, but for the
way light and shade are so sharply contrasted yet work so well together, as
the eerie, expansive quietness of "Shoot High Aim Low" meets the rumbling
crunch of "City of Love."
Elsewhere, "State of Play" offers an inoffensive mingling of a
hard-rocking, wailing guitar line with a modern dance groove; and "Where
Will You Be" features a gentle but uptempo arrangement recalling the music
of Rabin’s native South Africa while Anderson ruminates about reincarnation.
Musically, the only unnecessary and rather pointless piece is the one that
the record company pushed the most--"Walls." Little more than a rehash of
"Love Will Find a Way," it was a song Rabin originally had worked up with
ex-Supertramp singer Roger Hodgson. Another unappealing thing about this
album is not the music but its garish cover--a primitive "yes" in rainbow
colors scrawled across a plain white backdrop, all courtesy of "artist"
Peter Max. And as for other disappointments in the music, they involve
Rabin's production decision to excise an exquisite ambient section from the
middle of "The Calling," where everything downshifted and floated freely
into a dreamlike state for about a full minute, breaking the tension before
everything bubbled slowly back up to full tempo. The original 8:04 version
with this section intact was released on a promo CD and as a bonus track on
the Japanese album, and that was the only way it could be found until
Spitfire Records added it as a bonus track (the "Special Version") on the
album's re-release in 2002.
An album of such overall promise, and one that spoke of such hope for the
future, deserved better than it got. Sales were low, and many dates on the
ensuing tour found the band playing to lots of empty seats. Sitting on the
sidelines and watching all of this unfold was Howe, who seemed to take glee
in the project’s disappointing performance. With sour grapes undoubtedly
generated by his being pushed out of the band after the Union tour, he
publicly stated that he felt Talk wasn’t a true Yes album, thus reinforcing
the image many have of him as very bitter and self-important, both
character traits that unfortunately dominate his personality to this day
while his once-impressive talents continue to erode. No doubt he reckoned
The Ladder a "real" Yes album, even though it sold less than Talk, is just
as commercial in parts as Talk, and relegated the band to playing in small
venues. Apparently, being paid to go away so that YesWest could get on with
making Talk without him (yes, that actually happened) wasn’t enough to
satisfy him--he had to kick the band when it was down.
But, sadly, he wasn’t the only one. Amazingly (or maybe not so amazingly,
considering the narrow view of Yes music that old-time fans tend to take),
this album has a large number of detractors. Critics of Talk say it’s
little more than a solo Rabin outing that proves him to be a control freak,
but those charges become pretty hard to defend when it’s pointed out that
Anderson was more involved with the creation of this album than with any of
the other YesWest outings. Not to mention that Wakeman was originally
slated to be a sixth member on Talk, and a musician of his stature
certainly wouldn’t let someone else push him around, especially when the
music being created was something as near and dear to his heart as Yes
music always has been. (Wakeman and Rabin had wanted to collaborate ever
since they struck up a friendship during the Union tour, and they set out
to achieve that goal by adding Wakeman to the "new" Yes lineup that would
record Talk, but managerial problems forced Wakeman to bow out of the
project. The two would not pair up until 1999, when Rabin appeared on
Wakeman’s concept album Return to the Centre of the Earth.) If Rabin's
playing all the keyboards except for organ on this album forms the basis of
some of the "control freak" charges, it's important to bear in mind that
Rabin seems to have played all the keyboards except for organ on all the
YesWest albums, the only difference being that the liner notes on Talk were
more honest about the division of labor. And the reason they were divided
that way is most likely that, just as in the old days, Kaye wanted nothing
to do with synthesizers. Furthermore, judging from his onstage hatchet job
on Wakeman's keyboard parts, Kaye just couldn't handle any remotely
complicated passage of music, which in itself is probably part of the
reason Rabin wanted Wakeman onboard--so that Rabin could focus on guitar
and hand the keys off to a musician who still possessed a solid amount of talent.
Yes, Rabin was the producer of Talk, but the label asked him to be. Yes,
Rabin recorded the entire album direct to a hard drive, allowing him to
manipulate the music and shuffle parts around, but this was no different
from an engineer splicing tapes up to assemble a finished product out of
bits and pieces (hello, Eddie Offord)--it just made the job a lot less
messy. And as for the rumors that Rabin reworked some of Chris Squire’s
bass lines--even if true, Squire’s presence is still strongly felt and
nothing is detracted from the album’s bass work.
In any event, don’t listen to the naysayers--listen to Talk with an open
mind and open ears, and you may come to enjoy it as much as I have. It’s
truly an overlooked gem--Yes’s most underrated and underappreciated work.
It had carried the ignominious distinction of being the only Yes album out
of print ever since Victory went out of business, but it's available once
again as of 2002, thanks to a resurrection by Spitfire Records.
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