Q
03-15-2002, 11:02 AM
Geoff, we hardly knew you --- in and out of the band in a single year.
Though Downes only leaves a single document to mark his membership, oh, WHAT a document. "Drama" is an authoritative, distinct musical powerhouse in the Yes canon.
In these notes I will set aside all whining and creebing about Jon Anderson's absence from this album and stick to the music. And what music! "Drama" is not prominent in the Yes catalog but represented the greatest musical reinvention of the band up to that point (1980). An answer to punk, which was in ascendance at that time, it has an energy and fire and sonic impudence that Yes had never seen before.
Whether or not one considers "Drama" a valid musical extension of Yes, there is no denying that the album, as a stand-alone musical document, is powerful and innovative. Born out of a "power trio" phase in Yes's musical development, when Howe, Squire and White were writing together, it is more a rock album than perhaps any Yes album made up to that point excepting "Going For the One."
Here are some starter notes on Geoff's contribution to this fascinating music:
1) Musical dramatist: Downes fell easily into the role played by Wakeman on his own freshman outing (Fragile), that of character actor. Recall in HOTS how Squire and Howe become a "character" in the song as it opens, and how Wakeman responds with his tempo-tripping organ blasts, becoming a frustrated outcry. Downes emulates and extends this style in "Tempus Fugit," becoming a Greek chorus of angst with synth blasts of his own, accenting Horn's racing thoughts with a pressure that bears down upon him. Marvelous musical theater!
2) Downes' partnership with Howe shines among the melodic teamings in Yes history. On "Machine Messiah" and "Does It Really Happen" in particular, it is easy to see a melodic accomodation that, while not noteworthy for its own melodic contribution, is nonetheless exemplary in its economy and tonal texture. That is, Downes selected great synth sounds that made Howe's melodic lines more prominent, not less, and did so without ever overplaying. At the same time, Downes' parts, while somewhat understated, frequently have the power to surprise.
3) The real gem for Downes is unobtrusive. It is "White Car," the 90-second vignette following "Messiah." Considered by those who haven't really listened to be some kind of techno-new-age throwaway, this track represents Downes and Horn at their most brilliant. The lyric, a mere handful of words, captures in a single image a portrait of modern alienation in a dysfunctional culture. It is lonely and melancholy and devastatingly effective - yet so economical and sparse it has to qualify as brilliant. Downes' participation is absolute: the entire track is done by Downes on a Fairlight. In that 90 seconds, Downes achieves a musical miracle. He takes the initial theme, a bombastic string and timpani riff, symbolic of excess and pretense in contemporary culture, and strips it away to leave only a lonely reed line to accompany Horn's plaintiff vocal - returning the string and timpani on Horn's final line, transformed by the singer's lament to now mean something else altogether. Absolutely brilliant composition and performance by a superb and worthy player.
Who saw him live? Any observations to offer?
Though Downes only leaves a single document to mark his membership, oh, WHAT a document. "Drama" is an authoritative, distinct musical powerhouse in the Yes canon.
In these notes I will set aside all whining and creebing about Jon Anderson's absence from this album and stick to the music. And what music! "Drama" is not prominent in the Yes catalog but represented the greatest musical reinvention of the band up to that point (1980). An answer to punk, which was in ascendance at that time, it has an energy and fire and sonic impudence that Yes had never seen before.
Whether or not one considers "Drama" a valid musical extension of Yes, there is no denying that the album, as a stand-alone musical document, is powerful and innovative. Born out of a "power trio" phase in Yes's musical development, when Howe, Squire and White were writing together, it is more a rock album than perhaps any Yes album made up to that point excepting "Going For the One."
Here are some starter notes on Geoff's contribution to this fascinating music:
1) Musical dramatist: Downes fell easily into the role played by Wakeman on his own freshman outing (Fragile), that of character actor. Recall in HOTS how Squire and Howe become a "character" in the song as it opens, and how Wakeman responds with his tempo-tripping organ blasts, becoming a frustrated outcry. Downes emulates and extends this style in "Tempus Fugit," becoming a Greek chorus of angst with synth blasts of his own, accenting Horn's racing thoughts with a pressure that bears down upon him. Marvelous musical theater!
2) Downes' partnership with Howe shines among the melodic teamings in Yes history. On "Machine Messiah" and "Does It Really Happen" in particular, it is easy to see a melodic accomodation that, while not noteworthy for its own melodic contribution, is nonetheless exemplary in its economy and tonal texture. That is, Downes selected great synth sounds that made Howe's melodic lines more prominent, not less, and did so without ever overplaying. At the same time, Downes' parts, while somewhat understated, frequently have the power to surprise.
3) The real gem for Downes is unobtrusive. It is "White Car," the 90-second vignette following "Messiah." Considered by those who haven't really listened to be some kind of techno-new-age throwaway, this track represents Downes and Horn at their most brilliant. The lyric, a mere handful of words, captures in a single image a portrait of modern alienation in a dysfunctional culture. It is lonely and melancholy and devastatingly effective - yet so economical and sparse it has to qualify as brilliant. Downes' participation is absolute: the entire track is done by Downes on a Fairlight. In that 90 seconds, Downes achieves a musical miracle. He takes the initial theme, a bombastic string and timpani riff, symbolic of excess and pretense in contemporary culture, and strips it away to leave only a lonely reed line to accompany Horn's plaintiff vocal - returning the string and timpani on Horn's final line, transformed by the singer's lament to now mean something else altogether. Absolutely brilliant composition and performance by a superb and worthy player.
Who saw him live? Any observations to offer?