Tales From Topographical Oceans (1974)
1. The Revealing Science of God:
Dance of the Dawn
2. The Remembering: High the Memory
3. The Ancient: Giants Under the Sun
4. Ritual: Nous Sommes du Soleil
By the time Tales from Topographic Oceans arrived in 1973, Yes had gone from progressive pioneers to progressive extremists. What began as a bold idea—to take the long-form composition approach of Close to the Edge and stretch it even further—quickly devolved into a lesson in excess. Four sides, four songs, each hovering near the 20-minute mark. Conceptually audacious, yes. But musically? A far less cohesive story.
It’s not hard to trace the logic. Fans had gravitated toward the longer pieces on The Yes Album, Fragile, and Close to the Edge. Those were the tracks that earned standing ovations and spun endlessly on turntables. So why not go all in? Why not make a double album of nothing but epics? The answer, in retrospect, is clear: because you still need compelling music. And here, the band seems to forget that basic requirement.
The inspiration, such as it was, came from Jon Anderson’s fascination with Eastern philosophy—specifically, a footnote in a yogic scripture. That esoteric spark somehow translated into nearly 80 minutes of music, much of it meandering and bogged down by its own lofty ambition. Lyrically, the band had always been abstract, but here they crossed into impenetrable. Even the fans who had previously nodded along politely to the more cosmic lyrics found themselves adrift in spiritual vagueness.
Musically, the trademark Yes elements are all present—Howe’s fretboard flurries, Squire’s snarling bass, Wakeman’s cathedral-sized keyboards, and enough tempo shifts to make your head spin. But while the ingredients are familiar, the recipe feels off. There are moments—perhaps five or six minutes scattered across the entire album—where everything locks in beautifully. The rest? A bloated exercise in excess. It’s the kind of record you don’t listen to so much as endure, hoping to stumble upon brilliance buried in the sprawl.
The Revealing Science of God opens the album with promise but quickly loses direction. The Remembering is glacially paced, and The Ancient feels more like an instrumental dare than a song. Only Ritual, the final track, offers glimpses of the band’s former glory—particularly in its climactic passages—but even that can’t quite salvage the whole.
Rick Wakeman was so unimpressed he quit the band after its release. Ironically, Close to the Edge had also resulted in a departure—Bruford’s—but for very different reasons. You can almost imagine Bruford calling Wakeman and saying, “See what I meant?”
Tales from Topographic Oceans has its defenders, and some fans continue to view it as a misunderstood masterpiece. But for many, it remains a cautionary tale: proof that even the most brilliant musicians can disappear into their own echo chamber. Thankfully, the band would rebound next time out—but here, they flew too close to the sun, and the wax began to melt.
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