Yes missed their chance on easy-going listening with The Quest, an abysmal lowpoint for the legendary band

An hour with modern-day Yes is an hour of waterboarding for the ears. Steve Howe is hellbent on making a success of the band in modern times despite half the members being absent, and the other half dead. Howe should be credited for continuing as long as he has done. There have been moments of impressive material to come from the band, but it does feel like he’s dressing up in Yes’ costumes and pulling the nostalgia card a tad too frequently. His direction for the band hasn’t been all that convincing, and the Fragile tour which has him throwing out the album in its entirety before playing deep cuts from works where he has led the charge, is a bit off-putting. Like modern-day Jethro Tull or a melted DVD of Monty Python, there is a stench to this effort from the remnants of Yes. The Quest is a piece of work that hopes to cling to the past, a dated moment in history, which means all the album can do is appeal to the hardcore fans.  

Even they would be hard-pressed to defend this one, though. Opening track The Ice Bridge feels like it would suit some knock-off Flash Gordon film. A made-for-TV soundtrack if there ever was one. It’s the generalities that mean The Quest suffers most of all. Instrumentally, it’s a mess of a listen. Electric guitar riffs which plod along because how else can the band find meaning on this quest of theirs? Every song from the last few Yes albums has felt like a song ripped straight from the menu music of a mid-2000s Sonic the Hedgehog game. They’ve incorporated a jazz fusion element to their work without noticing or ever caring to evolve it further. It’s never terrible, but it’s hardly good. The Quest is aimless which is a shame since there’s a semblance of promise and excitement to hearing what the band hopes to do with this journey. They do very little, if anything. Those piercing, high-pitched vocals hide absolutely nothing of lyrical worth. A waste of a pitch that’s impressive to hit, but a bit grating over the course of an hour.  

The Quest is never awful but it doesn’t have the energy or instrumental interest to warrant such long guitar breaks. Leave Well Alone is a key example of that, a song which struggles to create either an urgency for the eponymous adventure or a calmness profiled briefly, but not very well, by the acoustic guitar break. It’s sincere, but it’s just not good enough. Whenever The Quest sounds as though it’s building toward a harmless but nice instrumental moment, it’s ruined by dull chatter of constellations and following your heart. Hammy, embarrassing writing which fails to strengthen itself with the usual emotional run you’d expect of such writing. Case in point, The Western Edge. Talk of grand designs in extremely high-pitched vocals, while impressive from a technical standpoint, just don’t land all that well.  

Music to My Ears is, ironically, not. But it’s offhand remarks like that which signal what The Quest really is. It never amounts to more than instrumental fluff. A punching bag for the instrumentally inclined who may be somewhat upset to hear how poor Howe and what remains of the band come together to make. They managed to do worse on follow-up album, Mirror to the Sky, but this is still a low point for Yes. Is it paradise, or is it prison? That’s the question posed on piano-led dud, A Living Island. Prison. The problem with Yes in these modern times is they’re trying to remain hopeful with Windows Movie Maker sound effects, the twinkling, shimmering noise in the background as they strum and hum their way through lighter than light material, the world around them crumbling as they offer mock-ups of escapism, never settling well. It sounds worse now than it did then.