Yes were filled with scattered reluctance on their best efforts. For their self-titled third effort, Peter Banks dropped out of the lineup for Steve Howe. For Fragile, the legendary Rick Wakeman takes centre stage, replacing Tony Kaye who, refusing to play the new prog-rock direction, was replaced. It makes all the difference for the band as an ever-changing unit, something they can use to defend their latest creations, as withering and clunky as they are. Yet it never used to be that way and Fragile stands tall as an example of free-flowing, gasp-inducing progressive rock where the charms of their instrumental style are matched with an energetic vocal punch. There is little introduction needed for Roundabout, its sampling as a meme in recent years moves it into a cultural bubble which neither reduces the quality of the song nor improves it. Fragile is a rather concrete, steady album filled with instrumental experimentation.
Such tonal change was necessary for the band, though, and those changes are the best part of Fragile. Technical and instrumental proficiency is the rewarding push heard on this one, irrespective of lyrical quality. Roundabout remains staggering yet verges on a sort of instrumental elasticity which depends on being amazed by rattling off as many notes as possible. Its high-octane energy is impressive but their roles peter out, an acoustic close and the sort of post-Monty Python’s Flying Circus, tongue-in-cheek cringe that occurs in this generation of art, can be heard on Cans and Brahms (Extracts from Brahms’ 4th Symphony in E minor, Third Movement. This enlightenment meets zany characters mixture has rarely, if ever, been pulled off well, and a prog-rock album pushing for classical renditions, well, Kaye may have been right to drop out after all. We Have Heaven continues with this aloof fragility and the attempted narrative pushing into South Side of the Sky is at least a generous bit of fun.
Booming moments through South Side of the Sky certainly salvage Fragile. Perhaps it was the teething issue of yet another member leaving and another joining, but it sounds much looser and unsure of itself than the preceding self-titled album. Messy fun on Long Distance Runaround certainly relies on its bass and guitar punchiness, the vapid lyrical moments not offering much beyond the hopes and dreams of a frontman falling behind the instrumental talents of the band. Fairly delicate acoustic work on Mood for a Day stands out more because it is a break from the multi-instrumental layers preceding it, which, on reflection, feel like messy squabbles put to music. It is all part of the charm of Fragile, to be fair.
Album closer Heart of the Sunrise is where the album picks up. A tragedy to hear it at the end but what a monumentally memorable instrumental section it is. Fragile remains an album of moments that, while connecting from song to song, do not have much of a narrative thread or instrumental lead-on. An album filled with sincere potential, bookended by an album preceding and following which sounds much stronger, an articulate experience to follow Fragile, despite its iconic appearance, is not far off. A very middling album because, like the album itself, the best songs act as start and finish points, the rest in the middle amounts to some forgettable instrumental pieces, quality as they are, never stepping up to a point of euphoric brilliance, as heard on Close to the Edge.
