Considering Trevor Horn joined the band for one of their best post–Fragile efforts, it’s a reassuring sign to see his name on Fly from Here. The further into Yes’ discography you go, the harder it is to get carried away by their progressive rock style. They have hardly changed it in the decades since it became a popular genre choice. All meaning has been lost in modern-day efforts from Yes, who pivot between completely unlistenable and failed attempts at recapturing the glory days. Their desire not to grow with the times is telling. Few listeners would be heading into Fly from Here with any hope. You can hear the impression Horn has on the band from the first few moments of this Yes release. Once more Rick Wakeman and Jon Anderson are nowhere to be found, and it benefits Yes brilliantly. They rely on the instrumental strengths necessary of such a big personnel change. Rising to that is not the challenge, finding a place for the exceedingly solid guitar work and inevitably complex solos is.
Horn and the band manage it well. It’s a rarity to hear Yes in such good form after Drama, and yet here is one of their best albums. Benoît David’s years in a Yes tribute band serve him well here. He steps up for a massive job in delivering some of the strongest material from the band this century. Yes are a Ship of Theseus band. How much of the original band truly remains? Can this still warrant the name Yes? It may as well be a different band entirely, especially since the quality is unlike anything the various line-ups could offer from 1980. But the name Yes has stock with old prog-rock heads, and thus is reason enough to carry on touring and recording as them. Parts I to V of Fly from Here are magnificent. It’s a segue style which suits Yes perfectly. Incredible that they never truly trialled the medley style, it works wonders for them. Instrumentally sound and lyrically exceptional when David is needed.
He does well, and with Steve Howe on backing vocals, it’s hard not to appreciate the frankness of the lyrical choices. Sad Night at the Airfield does away with the surrealism somewhat and instead focuses on a more grounded, emotionally compact story. It’s a solid change from Yes, who at this point can do very little to challenge the core needs of their music, and by extension, their audience. Crucial to this is the song was written so long ago. Horn and Geoff Downes revive their lengthy narrative track and give it to a band whose best years were in adapting to lengthy chord sequences and mighty song structure. It’s a change-up which works brilliantly for the first half of Fly from Here. What follows are some relatively likeable and light offerings from the band which defies their image.
Short and punchy rock songs with a free-flowing feeling at the heart of them. Clunky lyrics and relatively generic offerings for a love of life and the image of one person in the eyes of another, but backed by solid work. Those songs which don’t quite work are over far before you notice their shortcomings. The Man You Always Wanted Me to Be is the best example of that. Over with before it gets tiresome, but not quite a memorable classic. The latter is always better than the former, with Yes managing to avoid the usual potholes of their studio work. Nice, light work with confident producers and a new vocalist whose greatest strength is a love for what came before. Few bands would think to look to a tribute act for their next vocalist, it looks tacky. But David proves himself as the bright spark of Fly from Here, an exceptional return to form for Yes which sadly didn’t last.
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