Salmacis
03-03-2009, 10:13 PM
The summer of 2002 in Toronto was a disgustingly humid one, even by Toronto standards (international readers take note: not all of Canada is cold all the time. In fact, the summers in southern Ontario can be incredibly hot and humid, sending some people packing for the more pleasant climate of say, Phoenix). The afternoon of July 31st was certainly no exception. I spent that afternoon with my wife (then just my live-in girlfriend) and one of my best friends, sweating profusely and dumping cold bottled water on my head for a quick, if jarring, relief from the relentless rays of the sun. Nous Sommes Du Soleil, indeed. But I was anything but miserable. In fact, I was elated. I was hours away from witnessing five of my all-time favourite musicians (read: idols) perform a stunning, dizzying set of classic songs before my very eyes. This was a long time coming, much longer than it should have been - previous tours like Talk and Open Your Eyes had been missed due to the foolishness of impoverished youth. I should have sold my body on a street corner rather than skipping those tours.
As the late afternoon began to give way to the onset of early evening, the three of us began heading to the lineup at the beautiful (if unfortunately named) Molson Amphitheater on the shores of fishy and ducky Lake Ontario, in breathless anticipation of the wonder that was about to unfold before us. This summer, for me, was to eventually be known as the "Summer Of Concert-Going", after having spent no less than seven hundred dollars on the likes of Jethro Tull (with Saga), Dream Theater (with Joe Satriani and King's X) and Rush, among others. But little did I know (or did I?) that all of those excellent shows would pale in comparison to THIS. I had adored this band and its Wondrous Stories since a very young age - and I was no longer young - and finally... FINALLY... I was going to show them how much they meant to me.
As Yes fans of all ages, shapes and backgrounds filed in and took their seats, there was a buzz in the air. Middle-aged men brought their awkward teenaged sons (some of them in modern-day replica t-shirts that made it seem as though they could have possibly been to the Topographic Oceans tour), wives maneuvered their way around overweight prog-heads who had been in their seats for so long already, they had probably witnessed the soundcheck, and children excitedly glanced around the dusky amphitheater, some of them surely wondering what that strange-smelling smoke was that occasionally wafted towards them in the calm, hot summer air.
We made our way into the venue and headed to our 4th.row seats, stage right. Due to another friend's inability to attend the show (and my inability to sell his ticket for him), I was blessed with an empty seat to my right, which allowed for more comfort, and a place for our stuff. Even better! "Oh my God", I mused aloud, "Rick Wakeman is going to be RIGHT THERE. Right in front of us. There's his keyboard rig. And there's Alan White's drum kit", resting - for now - under the giant Roger Dean Yes logo hung from the rafters. "And over there, there's Steve Howe's guitars! Look at them all! Oh, I can't take this. Please don't be late, guys, please take to the stage post-haste!"
After what seemed like an eternity of watching last-minute preparations from roadies and techs, and a dozen or so false-starts from the audience (who for some reason always seem to think the guy tuning a guitar is ACTUALLY Steve Howe), everything went silent. This was it. No more waiting. No more wondering. All at once, six thousand Yes fanatics bolted from their seats and positively roared in approval as the opening strains of "Firebird Suite" emanated from the sound system.
And then - there was Alan White. "There's Alan White", I thought. This is happening. This is HAPPENING! And then Rick Wakeman. Right before my eyes, mere feet away from me. Rick effing WAKEMAN is checking his keyboards to make sure they are going to work. He's wearing some kind of sparkly overcoat or something! But no time to analyze that at the moment, because there's Chris Squire! And Steve Howe over there! And Jon Anderson! They are looking at us approvingly, and we are gazing at them in awe, wonder, and dare I say - love.
As I attempted to pick my jaw up from the cement floor of the amphitheater, Steve Howe began to play his guitar for me (well, for all of us, but at that moment, it was for me and me only). And the band launched into a rousing rendition of "Siberian Khatru". The audience roared its approval and I was in absolute heaven. Cosmic and mauve-clad Jon Anderson then announced that they were going to do a piece written by... "some guy" before somebody (Squire?) prompted him that the songwriter was in fact Paul Simon. The band proceeded to treat us to their excellent 'cover' (if you can even call it that) of "America". Further elation, further joy, further heaven. Then a powerful performance of "In The Presence Of". Chris Squire's excellent backing vocals were so strong that I was reminded - in person - that they are almost like shared lead vocals a la Gabriel/Collins singing "Slippermen". At this early stage of the show, I could already die a happy man. Little did I know what awaited me.
Jon began to sing "We Have Heaven". How odd, I thought, that they would resurrect this fun little ditty! A mere minute and a half later, I wondered what could be next.
"A river.... a mountain to be crossed..."
"Oh, you are KIDDING me. They are doing South Side!" - further jaw-dropping, further elation, further joy, further heaven! This dark, mysterious song had finally been dusted off and it sounded every bit as amazing as it did on Fragile. It was somewhere around the middle of the song, when Wakey was tinkling the keys, that this all suddenly became surreal, rather than real. "South Side" ended, and what began next? Well, to be honest, an introduction from Jon was next, but I couldn't really understand everything he was saying (I had, of course, enjoyed a little of the fragrant wisps of smoke myself, thanks to my friend who always comes prepared). And there it was.
"Dawn of light lying between the silence and sold sources...."
Now, I wish I could properly convey what went through my mind at this point. But what it really was, was nothing. Because my mind, my psyche, my very core - imploded in that three seconds. How I didn't fall to the floor right then and there, I'll never know. YES ARE PERFORMING SIDE ONE OF TOPOGRAPHIC OCEANS EIGHT FEET AWAY FROM ME.
Twenty-something minutes later, I joined 5,999 other Yesheads in hurling affection and praise to the band, who in turn appeared very pleased to be so loved. Before my otherwise sound mind was able to grasp what had just transpired, Steve Howe took center stage and began to play his acoustic guitar for an incredibly appreciative audience. I sat, along with everyone else, transfixed on this musical genius as he played "Leaves Of Green" and "The Little Galliard" for us. When he was done, the crowd emitted a deafening roar - a din, almost - which appeared to truly humble Steve. There's no faking a smile like that. He was happy, and we were ecstatic. He announced a short break, and walked off stage, leaving the audience to go about their business for fifteen minutes.
After pee breaks and beer refills, the audience dawdled back to their seats in anticipation of what was to unfold next. Could Yes top that first half of the set? Oh, they certainly could. But they were to begin slowly. Low-key, if you will. Jon sauntered onto the stage to further roars of approval, soon to be joined by Rick, as they played the very pretty song "Show Me", before Rick dazzled us all with his keyboard solo. The man still gots it, thought I.
Twilight succumbed to night-time, and glorious cool breezes swept through the open air of the amphitheater as Yes launched into the opening of "Heart Of The Sunrise", always a crowd-pleaser. The audience happily and knowingly air-guitared, air-bassed and air-drummed the well-known 3-minute opening assault - their little nod to "21st Century Schizoid Man" - and then quietly gave way to the gentle strains of the vocals. Squire's pirate outfit blew majestically in the breeze and Jon Anderson's unmistakable and unique voice soared through the familiar lines of the song, thrilling every last one of the attendees. Rick Wakeman was at once hunching over his massive keyboards and then bolting to his moog, seemingly JUST in time. The song ended with the same bang with which it began, and the crowd yet again screamed its praise, this torch-bearing mob looking to its leader for further battle instructions.
A necessary breather came next with the very enjoyable "Magnification". Like "In The Presence Of" before it, the song truly had new life breathed into it in this live setting. I was personally thrilled to see another new track, as I always am with my favourite bands. We had reached that point in the show where nobody in the audience was willing to risk calls of nature or yet another four hundred-dollar beer, and the crowd answered this new offering with considerable approval, which must have pleased the band.
A lesser "South Side"-style surprise moment occurred next when the band suddenly began "Don't Kill The Whale". I actually like the song quite a bit so it went down well with me. While three-quarters of the audience appeared to enjoy the quick little Tormato inclusion, the other quarter appeared baffled, perhaps not even knowing the song. I, of course, enjoyed it thoroughly, most notably though for its rarity. It was, after all, last played about a quarter of a century ago. Although solidly performed, it was the inevitable moment in the show when some of the audience - just like in a movie theater during even the most engrossing film - shifts uncomfortably. In this case, it was an extremely short-lived moment. Chris Squire, after all, was about to steal the show. His youthful antics brought the crowd to their feet on a number of occasions during his lengthy and powerhouse bass solo with typically solid and thunderous Alan White backing. People cheered mightily when snippets such as "Tempus Fugit" and "Silent Wings" were tossed in effortlessly.
This show was a dream. While the crowd continued to unleash applause that surely could be measured on the Richter scale, I was suddenly aware that we may be running out of time. After all, "Roundabout" and "I've Seen All Good People" still hadn't been played, and possibly even "Owner". And I would have killed to hear "Soon" or "And You And I" or "Awak
.....Rick began the intro to "Awaken" at that moment.
Nobody in that audience cheered louder than me.
But we all did cheer, and damn loudly. We were led through every glorious movement of the song.... from the eastern-tinged sections to the "Workings of man" section, to the instrumental middle section, to the reprises... and finally Jon and Chris belted out "Master of Time, setting sail over all of our lands.........." Brief audience applause failed to interrupt Rick as he ran the scales of his keyboards as he did many years earlier on the Vevey church organ. The band exploded into that incredibly emotional climax, every member giving it his all, like a team desperately trying to win a cup in the final game of the playoffs. Somewhere in the 4th row, a 29-year old tattooed grown man felt rivulets of tears stream down his face, because they were simply impossible to suppress. A most incredibly unique sound erupted from the audience, so loud that it almost appeared to rise above us. The loudest amps turned to eleven could not have drowned out the sound. And the song wasn't even over. The band took a minute to acknowledge its fans' appreciation before softly finishing this tremendous magnum opus. "Like the time I ran away, turned around and you were standing close to me...." Steve Howe finally finished the song, and the crowd resumed its roars. This was without a doubt the crowning moment of the show, and every member of the band and every member of the audience knew it. This time, it WAS impossible to top.
So, came "Roundabout". After the lengthy, emotional endurance run of "Awaken", the crowd seemed ready to sing and dance and clap. And they did just that. A song that's been heard many times, but never fails to get a crowd really going. I loved it too. I had spent years hearing zillions of live renditions after lapping up every live bootleg I could get my hands on, but this was, after all, my first experience seeing the band perform it with my own two eyes. Consummate professionals, they play the song as though it's the first time every time.
And then came
"Thank you, good night!"
NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We all knew there was still an encore to come, but this was still a sad moment of realization. Because now there was ONLY the encore left. And what would it be? Would I be disappointed? As the crowd did the usual 'encore' calls and the unison clapping and seat-pounding, I had time to run through what the encore definitely WOULDN'T be. "It won't be Close To The Edge", I thought, "or And You And I, or Perpetual Change.... and we won't get another Tales side... hmmmmmmm....."
Then the band reappeared, and the band ripped into a lengthy and downright mega-rocking "Yours Is No Disgrace". I was immediately thankful that we were at least going to get a long song. My idols, who had just given me the best concert of my life, were almost done. And as much as I loved singing along to "Death defying, mutilated, armies gather neeee-r....", it was a bittersweet moment.
Then they all put down their instruments, gathered together in the center of the stage, and bowed.
It was over.
As we slowly left through the gates we had so gleefully barged through hours earlier, Alan White's last cymbal crash still ringing in our deafened ears, six thousand of us collectively sighed, rolled over in our beds, and had our post-coital cigarettes.
Thank you Yes, you were absolutely glorious that night.
As the late afternoon began to give way to the onset of early evening, the three of us began heading to the lineup at the beautiful (if unfortunately named) Molson Amphitheater on the shores of fishy and ducky Lake Ontario, in breathless anticipation of the wonder that was about to unfold before us. This summer, for me, was to eventually be known as the "Summer Of Concert-Going", after having spent no less than seven hundred dollars on the likes of Jethro Tull (with Saga), Dream Theater (with Joe Satriani and King's X) and Rush, among others. But little did I know (or did I?) that all of those excellent shows would pale in comparison to THIS. I had adored this band and its Wondrous Stories since a very young age - and I was no longer young - and finally... FINALLY... I was going to show them how much they meant to me.
As Yes fans of all ages, shapes and backgrounds filed in and took their seats, there was a buzz in the air. Middle-aged men brought their awkward teenaged sons (some of them in modern-day replica t-shirts that made it seem as though they could have possibly been to the Topographic Oceans tour), wives maneuvered their way around overweight prog-heads who had been in their seats for so long already, they had probably witnessed the soundcheck, and children excitedly glanced around the dusky amphitheater, some of them surely wondering what that strange-smelling smoke was that occasionally wafted towards them in the calm, hot summer air.
We made our way into the venue and headed to our 4th.row seats, stage right. Due to another friend's inability to attend the show (and my inability to sell his ticket for him), I was blessed with an empty seat to my right, which allowed for more comfort, and a place for our stuff. Even better! "Oh my God", I mused aloud, "Rick Wakeman is going to be RIGHT THERE. Right in front of us. There's his keyboard rig. And there's Alan White's drum kit", resting - for now - under the giant Roger Dean Yes logo hung from the rafters. "And over there, there's Steve Howe's guitars! Look at them all! Oh, I can't take this. Please don't be late, guys, please take to the stage post-haste!"
After what seemed like an eternity of watching last-minute preparations from roadies and techs, and a dozen or so false-starts from the audience (who for some reason always seem to think the guy tuning a guitar is ACTUALLY Steve Howe), everything went silent. This was it. No more waiting. No more wondering. All at once, six thousand Yes fanatics bolted from their seats and positively roared in approval as the opening strains of "Firebird Suite" emanated from the sound system.
And then - there was Alan White. "There's Alan White", I thought. This is happening. This is HAPPENING! And then Rick Wakeman. Right before my eyes, mere feet away from me. Rick effing WAKEMAN is checking his keyboards to make sure they are going to work. He's wearing some kind of sparkly overcoat or something! But no time to analyze that at the moment, because there's Chris Squire! And Steve Howe over there! And Jon Anderson! They are looking at us approvingly, and we are gazing at them in awe, wonder, and dare I say - love.
As I attempted to pick my jaw up from the cement floor of the amphitheater, Steve Howe began to play his guitar for me (well, for all of us, but at that moment, it was for me and me only). And the band launched into a rousing rendition of "Siberian Khatru". The audience roared its approval and I was in absolute heaven. Cosmic and mauve-clad Jon Anderson then announced that they were going to do a piece written by... "some guy" before somebody (Squire?) prompted him that the songwriter was in fact Paul Simon. The band proceeded to treat us to their excellent 'cover' (if you can even call it that) of "America". Further elation, further joy, further heaven. Then a powerful performance of "In The Presence Of". Chris Squire's excellent backing vocals were so strong that I was reminded - in person - that they are almost like shared lead vocals a la Gabriel/Collins singing "Slippermen". At this early stage of the show, I could already die a happy man. Little did I know what awaited me.
Jon began to sing "We Have Heaven". How odd, I thought, that they would resurrect this fun little ditty! A mere minute and a half later, I wondered what could be next.
"A river.... a mountain to be crossed..."
"Oh, you are KIDDING me. They are doing South Side!" - further jaw-dropping, further elation, further joy, further heaven! This dark, mysterious song had finally been dusted off and it sounded every bit as amazing as it did on Fragile. It was somewhere around the middle of the song, when Wakey was tinkling the keys, that this all suddenly became surreal, rather than real. "South Side" ended, and what began next? Well, to be honest, an introduction from Jon was next, but I couldn't really understand everything he was saying (I had, of course, enjoyed a little of the fragrant wisps of smoke myself, thanks to my friend who always comes prepared). And there it was.
"Dawn of light lying between the silence and sold sources...."
Now, I wish I could properly convey what went through my mind at this point. But what it really was, was nothing. Because my mind, my psyche, my very core - imploded in that three seconds. How I didn't fall to the floor right then and there, I'll never know. YES ARE PERFORMING SIDE ONE OF TOPOGRAPHIC OCEANS EIGHT FEET AWAY FROM ME.
Twenty-something minutes later, I joined 5,999 other Yesheads in hurling affection and praise to the band, who in turn appeared very pleased to be so loved. Before my otherwise sound mind was able to grasp what had just transpired, Steve Howe took center stage and began to play his acoustic guitar for an incredibly appreciative audience. I sat, along with everyone else, transfixed on this musical genius as he played "Leaves Of Green" and "The Little Galliard" for us. When he was done, the crowd emitted a deafening roar - a din, almost - which appeared to truly humble Steve. There's no faking a smile like that. He was happy, and we were ecstatic. He announced a short break, and walked off stage, leaving the audience to go about their business for fifteen minutes.
After pee breaks and beer refills, the audience dawdled back to their seats in anticipation of what was to unfold next. Could Yes top that first half of the set? Oh, they certainly could. But they were to begin slowly. Low-key, if you will. Jon sauntered onto the stage to further roars of approval, soon to be joined by Rick, as they played the very pretty song "Show Me", before Rick dazzled us all with his keyboard solo. The man still gots it, thought I.
Twilight succumbed to night-time, and glorious cool breezes swept through the open air of the amphitheater as Yes launched into the opening of "Heart Of The Sunrise", always a crowd-pleaser. The audience happily and knowingly air-guitared, air-bassed and air-drummed the well-known 3-minute opening assault - their little nod to "21st Century Schizoid Man" - and then quietly gave way to the gentle strains of the vocals. Squire's pirate outfit blew majestically in the breeze and Jon Anderson's unmistakable and unique voice soared through the familiar lines of the song, thrilling every last one of the attendees. Rick Wakeman was at once hunching over his massive keyboards and then bolting to his moog, seemingly JUST in time. The song ended with the same bang with which it began, and the crowd yet again screamed its praise, this torch-bearing mob looking to its leader for further battle instructions.
A necessary breather came next with the very enjoyable "Magnification". Like "In The Presence Of" before it, the song truly had new life breathed into it in this live setting. I was personally thrilled to see another new track, as I always am with my favourite bands. We had reached that point in the show where nobody in the audience was willing to risk calls of nature or yet another four hundred-dollar beer, and the crowd answered this new offering with considerable approval, which must have pleased the band.
A lesser "South Side"-style surprise moment occurred next when the band suddenly began "Don't Kill The Whale". I actually like the song quite a bit so it went down well with me. While three-quarters of the audience appeared to enjoy the quick little Tormato inclusion, the other quarter appeared baffled, perhaps not even knowing the song. I, of course, enjoyed it thoroughly, most notably though for its rarity. It was, after all, last played about a quarter of a century ago. Although solidly performed, it was the inevitable moment in the show when some of the audience - just like in a movie theater during even the most engrossing film - shifts uncomfortably. In this case, it was an extremely short-lived moment. Chris Squire, after all, was about to steal the show. His youthful antics brought the crowd to their feet on a number of occasions during his lengthy and powerhouse bass solo with typically solid and thunderous Alan White backing. People cheered mightily when snippets such as "Tempus Fugit" and "Silent Wings" were tossed in effortlessly.
This show was a dream. While the crowd continued to unleash applause that surely could be measured on the Richter scale, I was suddenly aware that we may be running out of time. After all, "Roundabout" and "I've Seen All Good People" still hadn't been played, and possibly even "Owner". And I would have killed to hear "Soon" or "And You And I" or "Awak
.....Rick began the intro to "Awaken" at that moment.
Nobody in that audience cheered louder than me.
But we all did cheer, and damn loudly. We were led through every glorious movement of the song.... from the eastern-tinged sections to the "Workings of man" section, to the instrumental middle section, to the reprises... and finally Jon and Chris belted out "Master of Time, setting sail over all of our lands.........." Brief audience applause failed to interrupt Rick as he ran the scales of his keyboards as he did many years earlier on the Vevey church organ. The band exploded into that incredibly emotional climax, every member giving it his all, like a team desperately trying to win a cup in the final game of the playoffs. Somewhere in the 4th row, a 29-year old tattooed grown man felt rivulets of tears stream down his face, because they were simply impossible to suppress. A most incredibly unique sound erupted from the audience, so loud that it almost appeared to rise above us. The loudest amps turned to eleven could not have drowned out the sound. And the song wasn't even over. The band took a minute to acknowledge its fans' appreciation before softly finishing this tremendous magnum opus. "Like the time I ran away, turned around and you were standing close to me...." Steve Howe finally finished the song, and the crowd resumed its roars. This was without a doubt the crowning moment of the show, and every member of the band and every member of the audience knew it. This time, it WAS impossible to top.
So, came "Roundabout". After the lengthy, emotional endurance run of "Awaken", the crowd seemed ready to sing and dance and clap. And they did just that. A song that's been heard many times, but never fails to get a crowd really going. I loved it too. I had spent years hearing zillions of live renditions after lapping up every live bootleg I could get my hands on, but this was, after all, my first experience seeing the band perform it with my own two eyes. Consummate professionals, they play the song as though it's the first time every time.
And then came
"Thank you, good night!"
NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We all knew there was still an encore to come, but this was still a sad moment of realization. Because now there was ONLY the encore left. And what would it be? Would I be disappointed? As the crowd did the usual 'encore' calls and the unison clapping and seat-pounding, I had time to run through what the encore definitely WOULDN'T be. "It won't be Close To The Edge", I thought, "or And You And I, or Perpetual Change.... and we won't get another Tales side... hmmmmmmm....."
Then the band reappeared, and the band ripped into a lengthy and downright mega-rocking "Yours Is No Disgrace". I was immediately thankful that we were at least going to get a long song. My idols, who had just given me the best concert of my life, were almost done. And as much as I loved singing along to "Death defying, mutilated, armies gather neeee-r....", it was a bittersweet moment.
Then they all put down their instruments, gathered together in the center of the stage, and bowed.
It was over.
As we slowly left through the gates we had so gleefully barged through hours earlier, Alan White's last cymbal crash still ringing in our deafened ears, six thousand of us collectively sighed, rolled over in our beds, and had our post-coital cigarettes.
Thank you Yes, you were absolutely glorious that night.