Yes
– Close to the Edge
This album hovers like some cathedral built out of sound, leaning on gravity but never bound to it. Each piece sprawls like an overgrown vine, but there’s a sense of intent in every twist. Jon Anderson sings like a man staring through stained glass at a light only he understands, words tumbling into riddles that never quite beg for solving. The music swells with the confidence of a band convinced they’re charting maps for a new planet.
Best of…
There’s an obsessive beauty to the structure—movement folding into movement, the kind of architecture that dares you to keep up. Guitars spiral in precise chaos, keys shimmer like crystal fragments, and the rhythm section plays time like a rubber band, stretching and snapping without breaking. It’s a record that thrives on tension: not the fight to resolve, but the luxury of never needing to.
What lingers long after is the sheer audacity. These aren’t songs; they’re living organisms, breathing in crescendos and sighing in silence. Close to the Edge invites immersion, asking you to sit in its labyrinth until you forget the way out. And you’ll thank it for the disorientation.
Choice Tracks
Close to the Edge
A monolith in movement. It begins with trickling sounds like water over stones, then erupts into a storm of rhythm and color. Each section feels like a chapter in a myth written in sound, with the band as both narrators and architects.
And You and I
Grace without fragility. The acoustic opening lands like a breath, only to bloom into something sweeping, a horizon turning gold in slow motion. Anderson delivers words like fragments of a dream you almost remember.
Siberian Khatru
Where intricacy finds a swagger. Riffs coil tight, then burst loose in kaleidoscopic flashes. It’s playful, audacious, and somehow rooted in groove while floating miles above it. A finale that feels like a victory lap around the sun.
Close to the Edge isn’t content with songs—it builds soundscapes that breathe. Intricate, audacious, and oddly serene, it turns progressive rock into a living architecture of riffs, rhythms, and dreams you can get lost in forever.