Yes – 90125 Review

Fascinating depths and interconnecting bands are uncovered the further you head into Yes’ discography. 90125 would come just three years after the band broke up, born from a project which pieced together most of the original line-up. They’re a band constantly refusing to evolve through drama. Where it shapes the theme and tone for other groups, it would be a mere footnote for the long-running progressive rock group. They were instead fixated on how they could adapt their shaky foundations from the 1970s into a plausible, pop-adjacent one in the 80s. 90125 is the result. Not ideal. Opening song Owner of a Lonely Heart sounds as though someone found the sound effects on a CASIO keyboard. Music lesson noodling at the best of times, but this is the case for much of Yes from this point. Where the albums preceding this are flawed, at least they had an honest thrill or two to them.  

Opening with that middle-of-the-road sound effect obsession is a rough listen. It gets no better for Hold On, a soppy, sloppy piece of work. That much would come to define Yes, and it’s a true shame to hear any of it. Floaty, easy rock listening with a message you’ll have no doubt heard before, but better, elsewhere. That’s all Yes can offer at this stage in their career. 90125 would struggle not just because of this but because the artistry and interest in time signatures and instrumental appeal had long diminished. Their instrumental skill never waned, but their abilities in capturing the correct notes, the frenetic and natural feeling of being in the studio, is absent. Sitar additions on It Can Happen are just a chance to show they had one lying around. Nothing more. The song is a marginal improvement on what precedes it, though there’s very little in the way of monumental, ongoing quality on 90125.  

Songs like Changes are borderline repugnant. The sort of music you play when trying to entertain a dog. Cinema also marks a soulless, empty listen, but at least pays tribute to the short-lived group which brought Yes back together a short while after they broke up. Ridiculously uplifting filth is what Yes provides here, and there is no reason to feel this jubilation. Music and magic? Our Song will turn the stomach of anyone with a bit of self-respect about them. Nonsense lyrics which offer up that stream of consciousness without the cultural read and instrumental efforts which explore the miserable escapism Yes believes they offer. A few solid guitar riffs make their way through, but it feels almost accidental. The sound of City of Love goes against everything Yes had put together at this point.  

Nice it is to hear a few changes along the way, 90125 is more of the same shortcomings which would disturb the band constantly in the years to come. Their adaptation to the 1980s is the start of a decades-long run of bard-like ballads. They sound obsessed with the old country, the skitterish whimsy, the creativity which is pooled from the 1960s influence. There’s never a moment where Yes sounds as though they have matured, not even when they make this great leap to new musical genres. Album closer Hearts feels like a riff on Electric Light Orchestra, which by the release of 90125 had gone through several genre changes and was ready to break up. A shame Yes didn’t stick to that, it’d have meant this redundant sound was never taken on. Truly miserable, shallow work.