The late 60's saw the emergence of a new kind of rock, inspired by an incongruous amalgam of old and new influences. Progressive (or just plain old prog) rock was a weird blend of psychadelic, jazz, classical, and contemporary rock, and was far more complex than pop. It expanded the instrumental arsenal beyond the guitar, bass and drums to lean far more heavily on keyboards and electronics, resulting in lush and intricate sounds.
The result was a form of music that didn't conform to the radio-friendly format of a 3-minute
single and contradicted the idea that rock was simplistic and shallow. The music challenged listeners and demanded their attention in both the music and the lyrics.
Yes was one of the bands at the vanguard of prog, and they were also one of the most successful at it. Their music tended to have grandiose themes, blending the complexity of Bach with mythology and spiritualism.
It certainly wasn't for everyone.
Close to the Edge was Yes' fifth album overall, and the third album from their "golden era" of 1971 to 1972. Edge, along with Fragile, is widely considered to be the band's high-water mark and not only established them as rock megastars, but also featured the prog all-star lineup of Anderson, Squire, Howe, Wakeman, and Bruford, as Bruford moved on to join Robert Fripp in King Crimson after Edge was completed.
Not only that, Edge is also considered (by some) as the standard by which all previous and subsequent prog albums would be measured.
It certainly has all the elements needed for it: songs spanning an entire side of vinyl, broken into movements; soaring themes about alienation and searching; astoundingly complex and intricate music; and an underlying sense of being oh-so very serious about it all.
The inspiration for Edge is said to come from Hesse's Siddhartha, which makes sense, because both the novel and album focus on the spiritual journey of self-discovery, or some other such stereotypical pretentious prog rock aspirations. And in a way, that's completely appropriate, because with Close to the Edge, each of the songs are basically a journey of their own. Which is really cool because this is one of those perfect albums to play when you're feeling in the mood to just lean back and let the sound wash over you. In my opinion, Edge is the most "meditative" of the Yes albums, which makes it among the most meditative albums ever made.
Dropping the needle on side one almost demands you ease into a beanbag, close your eyes, burn a jay and let the music carry you away. The song starts with a sort of burbling and moves effortlessly through alternately simple, serene, complex, agitating, and soothing sections. There's a lot at work here, with undercurrents of Squire's jazzy bass, Wakeman's elegant keyboards, Howe's intricate guitar and Bruford's complicated drumming all serving as the canvas for Howe's overly-earnest metaphysical lyrics. It's easy to mock the naivete of the songs were it not for the fact that they are just friggin great. Siberian Khatu alone is worth the price of admission.
But being pretentious and sort of silly (in retrospect) doesn't take away from the fact that Close to the Edge is a really impressive accomplishment. More than that, it's one of those albums that really does work better as vinyl than digital in exactly the same way it shouldn't. The allure of digital is that it can be a much cleaner, accurate reproduction of the music, by allowing the scrubbing of extraneous noise and the elimination of the artifacts inherent in analog play (like pops and hisses). But its the pops and hisses and imperfect sonic reproduction that makes Edge stand out as a vinyl experience.
Up next: The alternate soundtrack to Wizard of Oz
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