With an album art cover heavily reliant on the influence of Terry Jones from Monty Python, Yes continues on their rise up the charts with a relatively broad-sounding showcase. Time and a Word has a whimsical nature that feels relentless and underwhelming today. Those twee little nudges at a time when The Kinks were running riot. It is not the fault of Yes, just the attitude of the times now stinks of old hat conversation, of tuppence and it all has a whiff of insincerity. Time and a Word is not defined by its cover, though, the black and white allure hiding some effective, fundamentally British style progressive rock. Their early days, as can be heard on this second record, are somewhat stronger than the works which still define them.
Where Time and a Word may still feel like an amalgamation of influences, there is at least a bold push on the bass-driven brilliance of No Opportunity Necessary, No Experience Needed. Tensions run high in the group already, with Peter Banks opposing the theatrics and orchestral additions which, to be fair, do align Yes with the soon-to-burst Electric Light Orchestra. But Time and a Word is superior to Jeff Lynne and Roy Wood’s first two efforts. In fact, the jazz and pop fusion heard throughout Time and a Word is an absolute benchmark of early 1970s progressive rock, overlooked because of follow-up The Yes Album. Some of the earliest thrills in their work can be found on Time and a Word, with tracks like the opener and follow-up Then providing as grand a range as any into the excessive brilliance the band would so often tap into. There is a lush sense, thanks to those Banks-hated strings, on Everydays, which opens up a softer, emotional sense of Yes.
They rarely captured this slower flourish again, but Time and a Word are magnificent when these parts take centre stage. Heavier, rocking tones on Everydays is where Yes comes to life, where they would never get to again because the likes of Roundabout were so focused on incorporating the harmonies into this manic instrumental style. Banks was a real loss when he departed the band, but this would not become clear until Rick Wakeman joined the group. Sincerity roars through the band on Sweet Dreams, and surrendering to them would be on the cards were it not for the rest of the album to follow. Yes has such a sincerity to them on this, where it went is unknowable. There is still a whimsy the band would fail to flatten out but they manage it well on The Prophet. An unhinged sense, a slight removal from reality, helps.
Yes would become all too reliant on the showy style of their keyboards and guitar work. Instrumental progressions are done with longevity on the mind as its sole purpose, rather than a support for strong comments on the world around them. This is not the case for Time and a Word. Where pieces like Clear Days and Astral Traveler may lose sight of the progressive lyrical displays, the latter at least has some wonderful guitar work, overwhelmed by Tony Kaye hammering away at a Hammond Organ, but thoroughly enjoyable. Bass-led joys are often overtaken by Kaye trying to fit himself into what could be very rock-and-ready jam sessions. But the keyboard reliance would come to define Yes, even when the string sections remain the best part of Time and a Word.
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