Jon Anderson 1: Olias Of Sunhillow

Unlike his colleagues in Yes, Jon Anderson’s first solo album was exactly that. He played and sang everything on Olias Of Sunhillow, a dense collection of songs inspired by a previous Yes album cover—namely, Fragile. The titular hero builds an ark-like hang glider to carry the four tribes of his home planet to another before the first is destroyed. (This isn’t clear from the songs, but explained in the narration within the elaborate packaging.) As he was working completely on his own, with only an engineer for assistance, it took a while, but when complete it turned out to predict the kind of New Age music that would be dominated by synthesizers as well as esoteric instruments, with only his distinct voice (and ecological lyrical concerns) tying it all into Yes proper.

“Ocean Song” rumbles into form with a wash of keyboards and harp-type things, then layers of voices bring in “Meeting (Garden Of Geda)”, a mere prelude to “Sound Out The Galleon”, a proper song. More harps play “Dance Of Ranyart”, supposedly the navigator, and he’s gotten quite proficient at the instrument, but this is another prelude, this time to the bloops and beeps that begin “Olias (To Build The Moorglade)”, another actual song that helps us pronounce the guy’s name right. He follows the Tolkien path of creating his own language in “Qoquaq Ën Transic/Naon/Transic Tö”, a suite of synth beds interrupted by indiscernible chanting over tribal drums. “Flight Of The Moorglade” is suitably trilling and hopeful.

Presumably they got airborne, as “Solid Space” nicely evokes the sensation of flight, or at least watching such a thing. The aural journey continues for the lengthy “Moon Ra/Chords/Song Of Search” suite, wherein the notes tell us fear and discord took hold of the refugees, yet Olias was able to quell everything with his music. (The music itself, however, stays lofty and progressive throughout.) “To The Runner” provides another trilling celebration of something, culminating in music we’re sure we heard on the Narada label at some point or another.

Olias Of Sunhillow is one of those albums that provides an immersive, multi-sensory experience should one choose to delve so deep, but it also works as a nice album to listen to for the sake of enjoyment. This too was mostly ignored in the digital era in this country, but has since been given the deluxe treatment with remastered sound and 5.1 surround content. He’s been threatening a sequel, so who knows if that will ever happen.

Jon Anderson Olias Of Sunhillow (1976)—3

Chris Squire: Fish Out Of Water

Released only weeks after Steve Howe’s solo debut, Chris Squire’s own effort got somewhat lost in the shuffle. Part of the problem was the cover art, which resembled that of the first John Entwistle album. But like Howe’s album, Fish Out Of Water relied on contributions from former cohorts, yet was intended to stand on its own.

His bass was always a key part of Yes compositions, so one needn’t be concerned that the album would be overly dominated by the instrument. Also, his vocal support was also very much part of the band’s brand, so he sounds that much more familiar. Along with Bill Bruford and Patrick Moraz, his main collaborator on the album was one Andrew Pryce Jackman, a pre-Yes bandmate who’d gone on to a career in arranging and conducting. Being recorded when it was, each side is something of a suite, and flows accordingly.

The pipe organ from London’s St. Paul’s Cathedral drives much of the busy “Hold Out Your Hand” along with the bass. An orchestra comes in at the end for a sharp segue into “You By My Side”, a near power ballad for piano with a gravitas similar to that of Zappa’s “Strictly Genteel” until the flute comes in. His vocal blend is nicely constructed too. Another pastoral passage opens “Silently Falling”, with a wandering flute distracting from the verse until the drums come in. A fairly straight section gets more complicated meter-wise to set up a Moraz organ solo that builds to a frenzy before spiraling to stop. A moment of silence allows the piano and voice to come back in, slowly joined by drums and even a couple of stabs of guitar. At its core, it’s a simple motif, but moving.

A funky electric piano appeals to Bruford’s jazz tendencies for “Lucky Seven”, while Mel Collins (also formerly of King Crimson) gets to add saxophones to the groove, and yes, there’s plenty of bass. After the jam peters out, we have another pastoral passage for “Safe (Canon Song)” to grow on over fifteen minutes. Portions of this a very reminiscent of other Yes epics, in the melodies and syncopated pianos, but the orchestra dominates. It’s another track that spirals into a wall of sound as different instruments navigate the odd time signature. But like the best prog, it all comes together rather than sounding like a mess. After the final chord fades, the subdued bass solo provides a coda that somehow matches the pipe organ when we started.

For all its popularity among fans, Fish Out Of Water was ignored for much of the digital era. Unlike Steve Howe’s albums, it was not included in 1994’s Yes catalog revamp, only appearing a decade later on the Wounded Bird label (a home for similar castoffs), followed shortly by an expansion that included one bonus track plus DVD content. In time for what would have been his 70th birthday, it got a new mix by King Crimson’s Jakko Jakszyk, which was issued alongside a remaster of the original mix, plus bonus tracks in the form of single versions of two songs, and both sides of 1981’s “Run With The Fox” Xmas single with Alan White. (A limited edition added DVDs with the expected 5.1 mix and previously released content, plus vinyl versions of the album and singles.)

Chris Squire Fish Out Of Water (1975)—3
2018 Deluxe Edition: same as 1975, plus 9 extra tracks

Steve Howe 1: Beginnings

With the idea that everyone in Yes was teeming with ideas that strained the limits of vinyl, the band went on a brief hiatus so everyone could do a solo album. First out of the gate was Steve Howe, whose Beginnings got a visual boost with a Roger Dean album cover, and utilized longtime band engineer Eddy Offord along with a few ringers like Alan White to handle the handful of instruments he didn’t play himself. Unfortunately, he also insisted on singing.

After some chatter from (presumably) one of his children, lots of strummed acoustics propel “Doors Of Sleep” into place, with a poem by an English suffragist poet sung where the solo should have stayed without competition. “Australia” is even more intricate, and awfully overwrought for what seem to be impressions of touring that continent. After a near-jazz intro, “The Nature Of The Sea” follows some intriguing dynamics, and best of all, it’s all instrumental, supported by members of Gryphon, who’d opened for Yes on recent tours. But for its trilling intro section and vocal sections designed for Jon Anderson, “Lost Symphony” should have stayed that way, drenched as it is in honking saxophones.

The title track is based on a classical guitar piece, given a very twee, faux-baroque arrangement by Patrick Moraz. It would be very nice to hear unadorned. Speaking of faux, “Will O’ The Wisp” has a brief backwards intro nod to “Roundabout” in its own, and some very challenging meters, so there’s potential, but he hits about every sixth note he tries to sing. “Ram” is fun, a snappy pickin’ piece that’s a cousin of “Clap”, overlaid with slide guitar, banjo, and washboard for even more hokiness. “Pleasure Stole The Night” is mildly medieval, but “Break Away From It All” sounds the most like Yes, with harmonies, choogling bass, and particularly Bill Bruford on drums.

As his guitar arguably had a lot to do with the band’s appeal, that should be enough for most fans to give the album the benefit of the doubt. But they’d also likely think Beginnings would have better benefitted from another singer. Apparently pitch wasn’t the concern of anyone involved.

Steve Howe Beginnings (1975)—2

Gary Louris 1: Vagabonds

We must give Gary Louris more than a little credit. Having chaired several lineups of the Jayhawks, when it came time to finally do a solo album, he made sure to put it under his own name. Yet Vagabonds isn’t that different from the sound we’d come to expect from the guy. The biggest difference is his choice of producer—in this case, Chris Robinson of the Black Crowes, who doesn’t get in the way at all.

“True Blue” is the ideal starter, with its gentle strum, distant pedal steel, and high chorus vocal, before “Omaha Nights” turns up the fuzz. The softer approach of “To Die A Happy Man” is belied by its breathless delivery, which frankly jars. (Given the list of forty songs shown in the packaging below the inner disc tray, we’d love to know what it edged out.) One might expect “She Only Calls Me On Sundays” to be a hokey country lament, and they’d be right. But “We’ll Get By” sneaks up on you, with infectious hooks throughout, a simple yet killer chorus, and electricity in the solo.

There’s what’s called a “choir” throughout the album, including Jenny Lewis and Susanna Hoffs, and its contribution to “Black Grass” is processed through a Leslie speaker along with the organ in such a way to make the track even more psychedelic while still very much acoustic. That organ leads into the extremely swampy “I Wanna Get High”, more of a litany of disconnected thoughts than a statement of purpose, the album producer notwithstanding. Gary pulls out his harmonica for the title track, which has another catchy chorus daring you to sing along. “D.C. Blues” is a little too derivative, but the picking is nice and it’s all about feel. A lonesome piano begins “Meandering”, a self-deprecating title for such a song of wonder.

With a small combo and simple production, Vagabonds has a consistent, comfortable sound. We wish it had more crunch overall, but there’s definitely a flow from track to track. It even works on the stripped-down Acoustic Vagabonds EP, which presents solo versions of side one and the title track. We hardly expected to enjoy anything with Chris Robinson’s name on it as much.

Gary Louris Vagabonds (2008)—3

Tim O’Reagan 1: Tim O’Reagan

Since joining the band after their fourth album, Tim O’Reagan showed his value to the Jayhawks, not only as a solid drummer but a harmonist and songwriter with his own strength. His songs were standouts when they appeared, so he wisely took advantage of the band’s hiatus to finally do an album of his own. While he gets help from other Jayhawks, Jim Boquist of Son Volt, and even his own parents on his eponymous debut, he’s credited with playing several instruments. Even nicer, it was distributed by Lost Highway, the band’s most recent label.

Tim O’Reagan has a pleasant homespun feel, starting with the old-timey “These Things”. “Black & Blue” and “River Bends” have enough country twang, but “Highway Flowers” sounds most like the band, with the harmonies and Gary Louris’s unmistakable lead guitar tone. His voice can’t help but sound lovelorn and weary, particularly on “Everybody’s Only”, while “That’s The Game” sounds like a remake of a British Invasion nugget using cardboard boxes, and that’s meant in a good way. “Ivy” breaks away from the mold with a falsetto vocal and almost arty approach, and “Girl/World” is back to a back woods stomp. “Ocaso Rosa” (which means “pink sunset”; we looked it up) is a Mexican-flavored instrumental, at odds with the garage vibe of “Just Like You”, and “Plaything” has some experimental touches that don’t detract from the song. All in all, a nice surprise of a detour.

Tim O’Reagan Tim O’Reagan (2006)—3

Toad The Wet Sprocket 9: Starting Now

By 2021, it was hard to believe that Toad The Wet Sprocket had been around for over thirty years, even if you were good at math. Under no pressure to anyone, they slowly pieced together another album in person and by e-mail, and Starting Now was primed for exposure post-pandemic.

“Game Day” is a pleasantly tuneful strum, and while the lyrics in the chorus aren’t very convincing, the key change is clever. “Transient Whales” is typically obscure, but it hits all the right buttons to celebrate their legacy and stand with their best. “The Best Of Me” is the song that got all the attention, as it features prominent harmonies from Michael McDonald—yes, of the Doobie Brothers. But for the less-than-orthodox structure, this could be a new country song. Todd Nichols uses the same lead guitar tone throughout the album, almost as if it wouldn’t be them if it sounded different. We mention this here, because the title track is the most Toad-by-numbers song on the album, nicely contrasted with the more complex “In The Lantern Light”.

The second half gets poetic, or at least bookish, as “Hold On” quotes from the poem on the Statue of Liberty over a Counting Crows riff, while “Truth” calls out Frederick Douglass over a choogling country beat. There’s not much to “Slowing Down”, except that it’s a collaboration with Nashville songwriter Mando Saenz. There’s a jarring switch to the very processed “Dual Citizen”, with its robotic percussion and dated synths. That only makes the closing “Fever”, a maudlin plaint about ecology and injustice, punctuated by weepy vioilins, all the more epic at five minutes.

Not everything on Starting Now is memorable, but it sounds like a Toad album. Considering it was their first without longtime drummer Randy Guss, that’s important.

Toad The Wet Sprocket Starting Now (2021)—3

Brian Eno 28: Film Music

That Brian Eno’s music has been used on cinematic and television soundtracks isn’t much of a surprise, especially after almost half a century of public creativity. The full title of the Film Music 1976-2020 compilation suggests that it picks up where 1976’s Music For Films left off, and while it doesn’t tell the whole story, it does provide a wide-ranging smattering of his work over that period.

Just because he can, “Final Sunset” is repeated from Music For Films; like “Dover Beach”, it was used in a Derek Jarman film. Unlike those earlier compilations, three vocal selections are included: “Under” from the animated flop Cool World; “You Don’t Miss Your Water”, his only “song” from the ‘80s; and “Beach Sequence” from the Passengers project, one of the few pieces on that album used in an actual film, and including exactly one line sung by Bono.

A few pieces are appropriately “spacey” if not intended that way, like “Blood Red”, “Decline And Fall”, “Late Evening In Jersey”, and “Undersea Steps”. Meanwhile, “Prophecy Theme” from 1984’s Dune soundtrack (otherwise populated with music by Toto) fits right in with “An Ending (Ascent)” and “Deep Blue Day”, as first heard on Apollo, and the latter more widely in Trainspotting. Two pieces for the British crime drama series Top Boy are intriguing and suspenseful. (A full album of score music, some very reminiscent of Peter Gabriel’s Birdy soundtrack, was later released on CD in Japan, vinyl other places, and streaming everywhere.) While not from that project, “Reasonable Question” and “Design As Reduction” are of more recent vintage yet fit right in.

More than conveniently collecting stray tracks, Film Music works as an album, one to get lost in without necessarily picturing the visuals. Otherwise we mightn’t have heard such pleasant surprises as “Ship In A Bottle”.

Brian Eno Film Music 1976-2020 (2020)—3
Brian Eno Top Boy (2023)—3