Drama (1980)


  
1. Machine Messiah 2. White Car 3. Does it Really Happen? 4. Into the Lens 5. Run Through the Light 6. Tempus Fugit

 

Given the backstage theater that led to its creation, Drama turns out to be a pretty appropriate title. By the time Yes entered the studio for this one, their infamous revolving-door membership policy had struck again—this time in a particularly notable fashion. Both Jon Anderson and Rick Wakeman were out, leaving the band without its instantly recognizable frontman and its flamboyant keyboard wizard. For a moment, it almost looked like that was that. Instead, in one of the more unexpected recruitment moves in rock history, Yes hired both members of The Buggles—vocalist Trevor Horn and keyboardist Geoff Downes. Yes, *those* Buggles. As in Video Killed the Radio Star.

On paper, it reads like a recipe for disaster. Prog-rock granddads bringing in New Wave synth-poppers to replace key members? But here’s the thing—it actually works. Really well, in fact. Credit to the band for recognizing that the early 1970s were over and that the old, endlessly sprawling prog epics were looking increasingly like museum pieces. Instead of stubbornly sticking to a failing formula, they pivoted—keeping just enough of the old to please longtime fans while injecting enough new energy to make things interesting.

Of course, no one should be fooled into thinking this was anything approaching a permanent solution. Horn and Downes would be gone before another studio album was recorded, making Drama a genuine one-off in the Yes catalog. It’s part of why the album often gets overlooked, despite its strengths. With Jon Anderson back in the fold almost immediately afterward, there wasn’t much appetite to bring these songs into the setlist. The purists in the audience—the ones who never quite accepted that 1972 had come and gone—were more than happy to pretend this record never existed.

Which is a shame, because musically Drama is one of the more invigorating Yes albums of the era. It’s notably heavier than anything they’d done before, and Steve Howe in particular seems unleashed here. For a guitarist so often associated with pastoral acoustic interludes, it’s surprising how hard he shreds throughout. There’s barely a hint of acoustic guitar to be found. Yet it doesn’t sound like a different band. Despite the updated, punchier approach, it’s recognizably Yes: intricate, layered, and full of personality.

Trevor Horn’s vocals are bound to be the sticking point for many listeners. He doesn’t sound anything like Jon Anderson—how could he? Anderson’s airy tenor was always central to Yes’s sound. Horn’s voice is higher-pitched but darker in tone, and more direct in delivery. At times he even evokes a bit of Sting. He’s a solid singer in his own right, but you can see why old-school fans might bristle at hearing him tackle older material in concert. It’s always hard to replace a frontman, but especially so when the voice was so central to the band’s identity.

As for the material itself, there’s a lot to like. There’s no obvious radio hit (though Into the Lens could have been a contender if trimmed down from its epic length), but the album as a whole is far more satisfying than the chaotic mess of Tormato. The ten-minute opener Machine Messiah is an absolute highlight, with its brooding intro, hard-driving riffs, and a hint of Pink Floyd atmosphere creeping in. Elsewhere, you can already hear hints of the future: bits of Drama sound unmistakably like the seeds of Asia, the band that Howe and Downes would help form soon after.

Fans often divide Yes’s catalog into eras, and the one that began with Trevor Rabin’s arrival in 1983 is sometimes dubbed YesWest. But you could argue that the seeds of that transformation were sown right here. Drama is the sound of Yes adapting to the times without completely abandoning their DNA. It’s proof they could change, take risks, and still sound unmistakably like themselves—even when everything about them seemed up in the air.

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