Yes Rabin Talk

ive years ago my oldest son and I worked together. During our hour-long commute to and from work every day, we were constantly looking for new music to share. I just rediscovered one of our prizes yesterday.Both big fans of Yes, we heard Open Your Eyes and Talk the same day. Somehow, I confuse the names in my mind because I absorbed them over the same short period.

Five years ago my oldest son and I worked together. During our hour-long commute to and from work every day, we were constantly looking for new music to share. I just rediscovered one of our prizes yesterday.

Both big fans of Yes, we heard Open Your Eyes and Talk the same day. Somehow, I confuse the names in my mind because I absorbed them over the same short period.

Oldest son prefered Open Your Eyes but I like the dynamics and acoustic leanings of Talk. Except, for the past four years since we’ve lived in separate homes, I’ve continued to confuse the two albums, choosing not to listen to the ‘harder’ album partly because of the music and partly because of the memories.

Yesterday I just grabbed a CD from the pile that doesn’t fit in the cabinet without paying much attention; just wanted something different in the van. And, lo and behold! The album I’d been not listening to for four years was the album I’d been wishing I still owned. D’oh.

Opening with acoustic guitars, layered with eleventy-leven vocal tracks, and apparently engineered with buckets and boatloads of heavy bass and sharp trebles, Talk falls, in my head, into the 90125/Ladder section of the various Yeses (Yesses?) It mixes crunchy with melodic, ploughs through massive driving solos and falls to near silence. One high point is the opening of “State of Play.” A simple sliding chord riff, repeated a few times, before the other instruments thunder in.

Talk is my current state of play.

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