I can feel no sense of measure
No illusions as we take
Refuge in young man’s pleasure
Breaking down the dreams we make…

Real.

The 80s have long been relegated to permanent punchline status, but say what you want. There were incredible things happening in music in 1983, especially on rock radio, where many of the established bands of the Seventies were being jerked out of their comfortable ruts, and facing the harsh realities of this new decade. The new wave and punk (and post-punk) movements had injected a new sense of energy and possibility into rock music, one that was increasingly intolerant of the excesses of “classic” rock. At the same time, with the advent of MTV in 1981, artists were finding that a visual identity was just as important as a good set of songs to any act looking to stay relevant in the new decade. Ten-minute guitar solos and tales of topographic oceans were out. Edgy, angular, and colorful was in.

Move yourself.
You always live your life
Never thinking of the future…

Formed in the late 60’s at that moment where British psychedelia and garage rock were burning out and morphing into prog-rock and heavy metal, Yes (like King Crimson) wasn’t a band so much as a flagship for a network of musicians that came together in ever-evolving configurations to record grand concept albums. In fact, the only real constant to Yes records was artist Roger Dean and the dramatic sci-fi/fantasy cover paintings he did for them. The alumni roster of Yes reads like a Who’s Who in Prog-Rock, and with each personnel change throughout the 70s, some new, usually short-lived sub-Yes mutation appeared out of the detritus. Like a kind a musical protozoan, Yes multiplied itself by division to the point where separate-but-probably-equally-valid versions of Yes were actually filing suits against each other over who had the rights to record under the name.

Still, despite their amazing adaptability to personnel changes, the band finally disintegrated in 1980, having apparently exhausted the possibilities of its original prog-rock template. But no sooner had the band called it quits than the just-recently-disbanded members of Yes started hooking up with other veteran Yes members to form new post-Yes supergroups. While guitarist Steve Howe and keyboardist Geoff Downes were forming Asia, and singer Jon Anderson was recording an album with the Greek new age composer Vangelis, Yes’s circa 1980 rhythm section of Chris Squire and Alan White hooked up with the South African singer and guitar prodigy Trevor Rabin (formerly of the band Rabbit), and former Yes keyboardist Tony Kaye (who left the band before Squire or White had ever recorded with him) to form a band called Cinema.

However, due to the complexities of the music they were producing, the band went looking for a frontman to ease up Rabin’s live performance responsibilities. Squire and White played some of the group’s demos for Jon Anderson, and on their strength Anderson joined the band… and Cinema became Yes. Version 2.0.

Prove yourself
You are the move you make
Take your chances win or loser…

This new Yes debuted in 1983 with "90125" (named for its original catalog number, which Rhino Records, in a startling lapse of purism, doesn’t reproduce for its otherwise stunning new reissue) and one of the most unusual and exciting rock singles to appear that year (or that decade) “Owner of a Lonely Heart.” Crisp and electric, the song is proprelled by a sharp dance beat, and Rabin’s almost surgically precise, at times industrial-sounding, layered guitar riffs and harmonies – the song boasts one of the most otherworldly wonderful guitar solos ever to hit the airwaves.

On the visual front, the band had eschewed the typical Roger Dean painting, in favor a clean, minimal, computer-generated graphic, and “Owner of a Lonely Heart” was accompanied by a disturbing and in many ways, groundbreaking video (Radiohead has done several variations on its subject matter) which still packs a punch twenty years later, when much of what looked supercool then looks superdorky now.

All of which seemed designed as a grand proclamation to the listening public: “This is not your father’s Yes”.

Indeed, “Owner of a Lonely Heart” was a new generation’s introduction to Yes, and Yes had pulled off something none of their Seventies prog-rock peers had. Not only had they completely reinvented themselves as a band, while staying true to the musical complexities demanded by prog-rock’s followers, they’d also expanded their audience to include kids like me, who’d never heard “Long Distance Runaround”, but had all of Duran Duran’s 45’s. Furthermore, “Owner of a Lonely Heart” became the band’s first (and only) #1 pop single and even landed itself on the dance charts.

See yourself
You are the steps you take
You and You – and that’s the only way…

“Owner of a Lonely Heart” alone makes "90125" worth the price of admission, but its follow-up single “Leave It” is damn-near breathtaking. Opening with an echo-drenched choral fanfare, the verses of the song percolate with layers of jazzy vocal interplay. The song may not possess all the drama of “Owner”, but it’s still a dazzling piece of work, and like its predecessor, it was a huge hit both on the pop charts and in dance clubs, even meriting a 12” single release (I own a copy!) with a dance remix and an a capella mix (the latter appears as one of six bonus tracks on Rhino’s reissue).

Aside from its two singles, there is much to love on "90125", and tracks like “It Could Happen” and “Hold On” rival the singles in energy, complexity and musicianship. The album is decidedly front-loaded, with the second half lacking much of the surprise of the first. Still, throughout the album, the band sounds terrific. Anderson’s vocals here are some of the most vital of his career, and Rabin’s multifaceted guitar work is generally mind-boggling.

Shake – shake yourself…

In recent years, I’ve become skeptical of remasters, DVD audio, SACD, and all the other possible formats the recording industry has drug out to get us to re-purchase albums we already own and save their sagging butts in the name of improved sound. I personally think it’s possible for some records to sound too good. The Rolling Stones were never meant to be pristine! And, dammit, I’m not going to buy a third copy of Elvis Costello’s “My Aim Is True”.

On the other hand, albums like "90125" are the reason why God invented re-masters in the first place, as evidenced by Rhino’s new reissue. The sound here is crystalline, spacious and dynamic – enough to turn my little grey Prizm into something of a stadium, even as I’m slogging through traffic on the beltline at 5:30. The liner notes are brief, but informative, lyrics and several band photos have been re-printed, and the CD adds six bonus tracks, including two versions of “Leave It”, a previously unissued (but largely useless) extended remix of “Owner of a Lonely Heart”, a demo version of “It Can Happen”, along with two Cinema-era vault items.

In short, the new "90125" (contradictory catalog number aside) is a rebirth of a rebirth, and absolutely essential to any fan of 80s rock.



Recommended: Yes