The sequencing of an album is of vital importance to its presentation. What if Mercy Mercy Me didn't follow God Is Love? Or, imagine the medley at the end of Abbey Road in a different order or containing different songs. When listening to vinyl (my preferred listening experience when my record collection is within reach), the fateful seperation of side one and two is of similar importance. Take side two off Exile and you're left with a rather weak album. In many instances such as this, I'm instantly drawn to the strength of a particular side of vinyl. My first example in what could become a semi-regular feature is The Yes Album by Yes. Released in 1971, the album depicts a group coming into their own. The Yes Album is a document of the discovery of their 'signature sound'. Recently recruited Steve Howe helped cement this feat and the ensuing success of albums like Fragile and Close To The Edge.
The album's sequencing and division on vinyl very clearly draws out their strength, weaknesses, and the various themes associated with their catalogue. Yes are, of course, prominate players in that genre deemed 'progressive rock', which I can shamlessly say I know nothing about. Blatant indulgence in music generally does not interest me - and as prog seems to be built entirely on indulgence, I digress! Side one of The Yes Album exemplifies these qualities all too well. I find Yours Is No Disgrace and Starship Trooper to be incredibly dull. Yes, they progress. And they progress, progress, and continue progressing until they've lost your interest altogether. Between the two lies newcomer Howe's blatantly Davy Graham indebted The Clap. But not that kind - Howe was endearingly inspired by his infant son's attempts to clap while nestled in his stroller.
Side two, however, showcases all that I enjoy about Yes - the harmonies, the residual 60s idealism, and only an underlying taste of 'progressiveness'. I've Seen All Good People transports me to when I was about ten. My brother had just started school for the first time and in his class was a girl whose mother had played violin on a Yes tour. This reinstated my mother's love of the band, and everyday when she picked us up from school in her red Saturn, this song played - limitlessly connecting it to warm California days with the windows down, not a single care. I had forgotten all about this, until before leaving London, I was played a Yes bootleg including the track. Then and now, I've found the All Good People section of the song dire and contrived, but the ascending, anthemic power of Your Move is timeless.
In contrast, A Venture is surely an example of the underlying taste of prog, yet its skillfully masked by its pop song length and chorus. While closing track Perpetual Change is my favourite off the album, it very much dances near the lines of disarray. Its when the song is at its most minimal that it is strongest, baring Jon Anderson's vocal abilities, as well as he and Chris Squire's increasingly cosmic lyrical themes ("As mist and sun are both the same/We look on as pawns of their game").
Though occasionally indulgent and perhaps a tad dated (I kind of think Yes is predominately for old men who were there and glossy-eyed at the time), The Yes Album holds some rich moments, punctuating the group's best qualities. The albums that followed only further drifted into side-length tracks, fantastical lyrics, and instrumental wanderings. The Yes Album gives you just a taste, which may be all you need.
