[For the first time in the history of “5” the “royal we” will
be put aside. This is personal.]
I used to be a real hardliner about artists retiring once,
in my estimation, they had become artistically irrelevant—which I define as
releasing mediocre material nowhere near the quality of their artistic heyday
and simply cashing in on their past—but in recent years my stance has softened
considerably in this regard. Hey, if people want to pay good money to see _____
perform, who am I to disagree? I’ll just be over in the corner if somebody
needs me.
So, why has the news that Yes plan to soldier on without
Chris Squire, founding member—the last of those, btw—and sole constant presence
throughout the band’s history, bothered me so much? To the point that I’ve engaged
in heated discussions online over the subject. (Chill, dude.) Part of it has to
do with the fact that I unapologetically expected much more than dexterous
mediocrity from a band which has meant so much to me. And that’s what the music
they’ve made from 1991-2014 has been: well-executed dreck. So, the death of
Squire coupled with fans who tell me they’ve been listening to Yes for decades and
that they consider the last quarter century of Yes music to be of respectable
quality, has made it obvious to me that I need to STFU, walk away and leave
these folks to enjoy their Krokus* version of Yes. Cheers.
* [Krokus is a Swiss metal band which has soldiered on
without an original member in their lineup for decades, long after their creative and
commercial peak, with diminishing returns.]
