The Story of the Only Yes EP: ‘From a Page’

Few major events in the long history of Yes can be explained in simple declarative sentences without the need for digression and side reference. Most of the group’s background stories contain some kernel of head-shaking polite weirdness. That’s the fun part just behind the music. This idiosyncrasy extends across 24 studio records and one mini-album, 2019’s From a Page, itself a fine example.

The creation story of From a Page tells of an occasion when a previous lineup of the band in effect co-opted the current lineup in order to make a new record. This emphatically changed Yes’ trajectory, and years later resulted in a postscript of three worthy songs left off that record, songs born in a clandestine and orphaned state.
 

From ‘Fly From Here’ Comes ‘From a Page’

Part 1: Yes’ sole EP was released in 2019, but the songs were created in 2010, and the story begins with a mention from decades before, when the veteran Yes trio of Chris Squire, Alan White and Steve Howe were searching for a keyboard player and singer and found them literally down the hallway, adding Leeds College of Music graduate Geoff Downes and semi-reluctant vocalist Trevor Horn.

This lineup recorded 1980’s Drama, but then Howe and Downes went off to form Asia, Squire and White reconstituted Yes into an arena beast, and Horn chose a career as a (very popular and sought after) record producer, early on producing 1983’s 90125 for Yes.

Move forward three decades, with focus now on a new record. In 2010, the tenured part of the lineup (again Squire, White and Howe) along with singer Benoit David and Oliver Wakeman (son of alumni Rick Wakeman) on keys, planned new studio work that would be a first for both. The leaders sought out friend and now-famous producer Horn to bring to life a semi-finished six-minute song from the Drama period called “We Can Fly From Here,” written by Horn and Downes.

Early on, someone suggested expanding the 30-year-old piece into a longer form, something Yes is known for, but the idea did not immediately take hold. Recording began in October, with Horn present before temporarily leaving to finish another commitment. While away, the band worked on an album’s worth of titles.

The Christmas holiday then halted work. Reassembling afterward, a series of seismic decisions were quickly made, one attendant to the next. Squire, White and Howe acclimated to the idea of expanding a concept now called Fly From Here. It would then make sense for Horn to produce the entire album and not just a portion.

From this flowed the impetus to use other Horn/Downes themes from the Drama period. Finally, if the band was to go so far down this road, it made sense for Geoff Downes to be involved in rendering songs he had a hand in originating.

The business side of Yes has occasionally exhibited a certain friendly ruthlessness throughout its lifespan, and Downes’ return could be seen as an example. It should be remembered that this mission-oriented attitude has kept the band alive through seven decades, and still been genial enough for several past members to leave and return multiple times – as if to a club.

Howe later commented it was a difficult decision and that working again with Horn on such unexplored potential was too good an offer to refuse. Horn did not officially join as vocalist to completely recreate the Drama lineup, but he produced the entirety of the new album and also laid down a reportedly strict guide vocal for David to follow.

Disappointed yet supportive, Oliver Wakeman stepped away as David, Howe, Squire, White and Downes went on to release Fly From Here in June 2011. Songs originated by him were necessarily set aside and went into flash-drive purgatory.

Having chosen this direction and derivation, the band invested fully, with compositions by Horn/Downes, taking up 26:29 of time (7:40 of that with a Squire co-write) on an album that runs only 47:28 in total. All the main concepts in that 26 minutes derive from Drama-era material.

While it may have seemed unnecessary to drag out 30-year-old ideas for renovation, it also seems wasted effort for an artist to retain melodies so long without them evaporating through time, as so many do, unless the musical ideas truly have some intangible sticking power.

The success of the Horn/Downes contributions on the album, which include most of the 24-minute title cut and the song “Life on a Film Set,” show the integrity of the basic original melodies. In hindsight, it can be said that sacrificing the current band zeitgeist for an ersatz re-creation of a past era worked.

After 10 years since Yes’ last studio release, Fly From Here satisfied the moment that summer. The band, critics and fans all approved of the strong music and sparkling production work, and it kept the Yes banner flying in a positive wind. Oliver Wakeman and Trevor Horn continued their individual careers, while Geoff Downes has remained in the band this second time around as composer and first-grade keyboard texturalist.

Part 2: One day, late in October 2019, From a Page appeared out of thin air, quietly for sale at a single website, with no prior announcement. Though anonymous, it immediately became the only studio representation of the David/Wakeman lineup. It was offered as a separate vinyl EP, and as a CD packaged with 2011’s In The Present: Live From Lyon, which is itself the only official live offering featuring this configuration. All songs are now digitally available.

Its five songs are “To the Moment,” “Words on a Page,” “From the Turn of a Card,” “The Gift of Love,” and a radio edit of “To the Moment.” The third song listed was originally written as a possible Yes song, but is a recreation using non-band sources, and is simply not considered here.

The remaining three cuts are the Wakeman compositions developed during the first part of the Fly From Here sessions. He has noted that “To the Moment” and “Words on a Page” were virtually finished while the group-written “Gift of Love” had a longer gestation period, existing in all its parts, lacking final arrangement.

As an obvious album opener, “To the Moment” compares well with past efforts at “first song, side one.” Pointed and forceful with sunny, Yessy lyrics, it holds its own as a pace-setter. A listener is convinced while the song still plays. Wakeman then hunches over his synth to throw an unexpected last-minute tantrum and cement the impression. Tasteful in its brevity, the niblet of bravado serves as a smart little reminder of Yes’ assumed musicianship standards.

“Words on a Page” is a tight pop song living in the same classical place as deep recitals “Madrigal” or Anderson Bruford Wakeman Howe’s “The Meeting.” Acoustic six-string guitar and piano initially soften a formal construction, but the main attraction is an instrumental section that elevates the song into a different evaluation due to the attempt.

Switching to a pedal steel guitar, Howe’s bridge reiteration of the melody builds an emotional edifice sufficient on its own when, expecting an end, it rises to a crown finish of overt emotionalism. Straightforward and romantic compared to Howe’s norm, this is another facet of his mastery over what is maybe his diamond instrument.

After rock and pop exhibits, the 10-minute “Gift of Love” shows off the progressive side of Yes’ heritage with a digestible flow piece through moods alternately aspirational, reflective, and victorious, marching toward an elegant non-ending. If the deliberate pace isn’t a bother, the musicianship and evolving drift make it a very sociable sway. David’s bell-clear vocals singing out, “… and I feel so free again” is one of those tingly mini-moments Yes fans like.

A purchaser of the mini-album wins on percentages, acquiring Yes’ solitary EP since 1968, featuring the only studio examples of this lineup, on blue vinyl if paid for, with heavy liner notes in a booklet, and packaged in high-level artwork by Roger Dean. It’s a collectible.

Much more importantly, two of the three pieces hold salient musical moments anyone might want to hear and that a Yes fan should know, plus there’s a probability of the processional nature of “The Gift of Love” pulling one into its charming forest. All three songs fare well in a catalog-sized ranking into good, average, and poor.

Part 3: It is possible to estimate the makeup of the album had Yes stayed with its initial idea of revisiting only the song “We Can Fly From Here,” and otherwise using internal band material. The core of the notion lies in the songs concentrated on late 2010.

When Horn temporarily departed, the band developed “Man You Always Wanted Me to Be,” “Into the Storm” and “Hour of Need” (short version), almost 15 minutes of music that ended up on the album. The three From a Page songs, totaling 22:19, were focused on during this time. A few other titled pieces were pursued as well. The holidays then halted work, with the wholesale change in direction taking place after.

Allowing 15 minutes for a modern revisitation of “Fly From Here” as the progressive centerpiece, plus 14:57 for the above-mentioned three songs, and 22:19 for the Wakeman tunes, a complete album of 52:16 reveals itself, well-balanced with a top-notch opener, a second prog number in “The Gift of Love,” two very strong pop songs (“Hour of Need” and “Words on a Page”), and the punch of “Into The Storm” balancing any sentimentality of “Man You Always Wanted Me to Be.” Based on the original intent and direction the band was heading at first, something close to this might have have been the result.

Many what-if situations polka-dot Yes history’s landscape, but it is questionable if the alternate would be in any way better, despite a pronouncement that all three From a Page songs are worthy of being on a Yes album Fly From Here is a well-regarded recording.

There exists a last digression. If From a Page is a quiet yet educated cousin to Fly From Here, there exists another relative, perhaps more questionable and dependent. In 2018, a year before From a Page, Trevor Horn accepted a fresh offer from the band to belatedly sing lead vocals on the Fly From Here music, with the (lingering) goal of creating a sort of delayed followup that the Drama album never saw.

Packaged as Fly From Here: Return Trip, the LP found Horn erasing Benoit David’s vocals for his own and slightly rearranged the songs. Retired from music by then, David was not informed of the project.

As of 2023, the simulacrum album and songs mix with the originals and receive co-listing on various search platforms, insinuating equal stature, but at best the duplicates offer nothing remarkably different, and they should not be confused with the originals.

From a Page, despite its mildly odd in-vitro origin, is hard evidence that Yes actually had two viable, musically prosperous avenues open to pursue in the fall of 2010, a fortunate position to be in though maybe not so clear except in hindsight. The shepherding of the three Yes songs into public space by Wakeman provides an excellent coda to the Fly From Here period, reinforcing the band’s reputation for musical credentials, and presenting songs that play nicely with the rest of the Yes catalog.

Yes’ only EP may be an offshoot, and its release may have been a veiled affair, but there is every reason to believe this sparse little set will have a deserving persistence as the band gathers fans into the 21st century, each song having qualities that make them noticeable when ranking Yes music of the last 30 years.