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From now on, Monday’s on foxchasefive’s music section will be filled with classical album reviews. No, not reviews of Bach or Mozart, reviews of albums farther back than Saved by The Bell, or even MTV, ahhhhh!!!! These reviews will hopefully be entertaining and insightful, and hopefully open up some eyes to the plethora of great music that existed before we were born. Enjoy.

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The term “masterpiece” is often overused and rarely deserved, but there is no other word to correctly describe Yes’s 1972 LP, Close to the Edge. Honestly, it is such a great album that the listeners pants miraculously become more comfortable. It’s a wonderful thing. Certainly a huge breakthrough in the progressive (prog) rock scene, this album basically takes the symphonic concept of “Heart Of The Sunrise,” from their previous album, Fragile (also from ‘72), and expands and molds it into an incredible piece, the likes of which had never been heard before. Within Close to the Edge, Yes’s talent flourishes with astonishing creativity, scope, and ingenuity. Bounding with some highly psychedelic sounds, sitar, and loads of creative synth parts, this is Yes at its finest, the peak of its golden age of the early Seventies.

The first song, the four-part, nearly 20-minute long “Close To The Edge,” which covers the entire A-Side of the LP, begins in silence. A natural, pulsating, atmospheric sound filled with the voices of birds slowly fades in, and then the song suddenly explodes into a fiery aural assault. Firmly establishing themselves as rock’s tightest band, every player is literally flawless as they show off their unmatched skills. Within the first two minutes, Steve Howe, Rick Wakeman, Chris Squire, and Bill Bruford make it clear just who are the world’s fastest, most ridiculous guitarist, organist, bassist, and drummer, respectively. “Close To The Edge” passes through several sections and themes, taking the listener from a chill walk in the park, through an undeniably classical theme, and into an introspective, passive section. From there, Wakeman kicks the song up into somewhere around the solar system with a truly magnificent bit of church organ and synthesizer. You can actually see entire planets colliding within the notes; it’s incredible. After a very fast-paced recapitulation, ruled by a highly aggressive Chris Squire, Jon Anderson sings what may be his greatest part in Yes’s catalogue before the song ends in the same atmospheric ambiance in which it began. The song thus leaves the listener where she or he was before the song but now very much enlightened.

Side B consists of two ten-minute tracks. The first, “And You And I,” is surprisingly bittersweet, and a great work of art in its own right. The last section of this song, “The Preacher The Teacher” begins with a wonderful acoustic part and ends in a few gentle, sentimental lines sung by Anderson. The last track, “Siberian Khatru,” begins in stark contrast with the rest of the album with some straight-up rock ‘n’ roll guitar work but quickly is unified with the rest of the LP with that prog feel. I’m listening to the album (for like the millionth time) as I write this and my writing has actually caught up with the music, so I have to wait a little bit before continuing with my review. Excuse me a moment, please. (Listens intently for a few minutes while drinking Fresca, a wonderful citrus beverage.) Okay, thanks. While “Siberian Khatru” maintains a much more rock-ish feel than the rest of the LP, it at first seems to lack the same emotion and feeling that makes the album so great. However, this notion quickly passes with the entrance of sitar and harpsichord. The song eventually drops into an intense chant-like section that seems to reflect upon the album as a whole. Near the end of the song, a chorus of staccato voices strikes right into the listener. They almost seem to be the tangible power of the entire album contained in a few seconds. It’s hard to describe but it definitely makes sense when you listen to it. It’s sort of a reminder of the scale and vastness of the album. The song fades out with some magnificent guitar licks by Howe, and the story is over.

This album certainly stands out in my mind among the works of the early Seventies. You will be hard-pressed to find such an amazing show of technical skill, originality, and pure creativity. This is truly a far-out masterpiece and withstands the test of time (happy 35th!). Listen to it and be happy.

By Natewood