Letzter Beitrag der vorhergehenden Seite:
Noch so ein Jubiläumsgig ("Legends des Océans Topographiques") mit gerade mal 40 Jahren auf dem Buckel, allerdings in deutlich schlechterer Audioqualität (B+ würde ich mal sagen):
Yes: America roars YES!
Rick Wakeman said it: the MM's Yes concert at Madison Square Garden (18 Feb 1974) was the best yet.
YOU COULD smell the sulphur in the air as thousands of fans lit matches to show their appreciation of Yes at New York's Madison Square Garden this week.
While the lighting of matches has become a common sight at concerts in the US over the past 12 months, I doubt very much whether the Garden has seen quite so many brilliant spots of light after a concert as it did on Monday and Wednesday when Yes played a couple of sell out shows – before 20,000 fans at each – which were co-promoted by top New York promoter Howard Stein and the Melody Maker.
In fairness it must be pointed out that Monday night's performance was considerably better than the show on Wednesday, but both performances underlined the fact that Yes today are one of the hottest British acts to cross the Atlantic.
Monday evening's performance was an almost magical combination of the talents that make up this group of serious and dedicated musicians. And after the performance Rick Wakeman, not a man to exaggerate or accept praise lightly, confessed that it was the best show he'd played since joining the band almost two years ago.
"We played well tonight," he said. "In fact tonight was the kind of show we wish we could play every night. It was the best Yes concert I've ever experienced.
"I wish it could have been as good as this at the Rainbow when we premiered the new album in England, but now we've played the show 40 times and that means we've had 40 opportunities to improve. Also we've had 40 discussions after each show to find out where things might have been going wrong and improve them."
Wakeman admitted that press criticism of the band's new album Tales From Topographic Oceans had helped the band to sort out their faults and correct them.
"A band of our standing reaches a dangerous position when it can put records out which will sell no matter how good they are," he said. "We have realised that we did make some mistakes, but I think these problems have been ironed out now."
The show that Yes played was basically the same as on their last British shows, though the actual delivery of the music as – Wakeman pointed out – has changed dramatically for the better. It's a visual as well as musical experience, with the stage decked out with huge plastic growths designed by Roger Dean, the man responsible for the now-easily-distinguishable Yes record sleeves.
Behind Rick Wakeman is a large structure that could resemble a bunch of bananas, while on stage left there's a mock cave entrance through which the members of the band make their entry and exit.
But the diverse range of instruments is equally imposing. Ahead of Steve Howe's post on stage is a curious contraption which holds two guitars at chest height and a slide guitar: it spins around at his beckoning to allow him to use whichever guitar he wishes, enabling him to play a second guitar while his regular instrument is still strapped around his neck.
Actually Steve Howe played a total of eight different guitars during the show, including the slide, which must be some kind of record. For the purists, they were mostly Gibsons and included a twin neck and, unless chauvinistic feelings have carried me away, a Melody Maker.
Chris Squire used an acoustic bass guitar during 'Tales' while Anderson himself, not noted for his instrumental ability, lightly strummed an acoustic guitar. Rick Wakeman's choice of keyboards is legendary, and the effects at his fingertips are many and varied.
THE SHOW opened with three tracks from their Close To The Edge album: 'Siberian Khatru', 'And You And I' and the title track, all of which were greeted warmly by audiences obviously well familiar with these pieces.
This type of rock music is almost one hundred per cent dominated by English bands, and Yes seem to thrive on complicated music. The more complex the structures, the more emphasis has to be placed on sound mixing and it is here that a Yes show can either stand out as a masterpiece of contemporary music or fall down as a misadventure into technical weirdness
On Monday evening the sound was perfect, the best I'd heard in the gigantic Garden complex.
For this the group can thank Eddie Offord, their moutachio'd genius who sits behind the mixing desk midway up the auditorium, twiddling with knobs and playing almost as great a part in the performance as the musicians.
The test of the show, though, was putting over the new work – all four sides of the album – which is an awful lot of music to present to an audience first time around. Hearing Tales live takes on a totally different dimension from hearing the record, and on Monday evening Yes's rendering of the new album was approaching brilliant.
And the audience, too, seemed happy to sit and listen patiently insead of constantly hollering for more familiar songs from the Yes repertoire.
While some critics have panned Tales, I found it a thoroughly enjoyable musical experience, enabling as it does the individuals within the group to stand out. But it's Howe and Wakeman who come away with honours, Howe for his brilliantly sustained guitar work using all manner of different instruments and Wakeman for his underlying presence throughout the entire piece.
Howe must now be one of the most respected guitarists in rock. He manages to combine both speed and taste; he's always on cue for a short, almost unnoticed, lick punctuating the changes that Yes go through during the 90-minute piece.
Wakeman is a keyboard king of the highest order, majestically switching from organ to Moog to piano and back with a swish of his long blonde hair and a curl of his golden cloak. Without him Yes would lose all the power of their show.
Alan White and Squire also have their moments. White in a visually stimulating percussion work stands out towards the end of the show and Squire in a rasping bass solo that spurts from the PA like machine gun fire.
Anderson remains the quiet, disciplined leader making introductions shyly despite his experience and singing with more technical precision that feeling. Tapping lightly on a tambourine is the only outward show of anything like emotion from Jon Anderson.
THEY'RE almost too professional, taking so much in their stride and putting over music without flaws.
On Monday evening everything, but everything, ran like clockwork and a delighted Anderson quietly thanked the audience for listening so well.
Minutes later they were back for 'Roundabout', a relatively simple piece by Yes standards, which served as a good up tempo choice after all the complexities of the evening's more serious music.
