Union (1991)
1. I Would Have Waited Forever
2. Shock to the System
3. Masquerade
4. Lift Me Up
5. Without Hope We Cannot Start the Day
6. Saving My Heart
7. Miracle of Life
8. Silent Talking
9. The More We Live - Let Go
10.Angkor Wat
11.Dangerous (Look in the Light of What
You're Searching For)
12.Holding On
13.Evensong
14.Take the Water to the Mountain
Among Yes fans, Union often gets trotted out as a contender for the band’s low point. Is that fair? Well—sort of. Personally, I don’t think it’s unlistenable. It’s just… unnecessary. Confused. A well-meaning but fundamentally flawed idea that tried to be everything to everyone and ended up pleasing almost no one. To understand why, you have to go back to the late ’80s and early ’90s, when there were basically two competing versions of Yes. On one side was the sleek, chart-friendly “YesWest” lineup that had delivered 90125 and Big Generator. On the other side was the more “classic” faction that had to brand themselves as Anderson Bruford Wakeman Howe thanks to legal wrangling. For simplicity’s sake, let’s just call them ABWH from here on out.
ABWH had already put out their self-titled debut—a mixed bag at best—and were looking to follow it up. The problem? They didn’t have anything close to a hit single. Enter Trevor Rabin, the de facto captain of YesWest, who was apparently approached to help write something more commercial. Before you knew it, the idea of merging both factions into one big “reunited” Yes album was floated and somehow approved. The label and management must have thought this was a can’t-miss idea. In reality, it was a minefield waiting to go off.
Because here’s the thing: Yes was never exactly a bastion of stability. These were guys who could barely make it through two albums in a row without firing someone or having someone quit. Expecting them to suddenly collaborate seamlessly just because the contract said so was laughable. And sure enough, despite the Union branding, what you really get here is two separate Yes bands working in parallel. A few solid YesWest tracks. A bulk of ABWH leftovers. And only one real thread tying it all together: Jon Anderson’s vocals.
That disjointed structure is the root of the album’s problems. The YesWest tracks tend to be solid and professional, even if they play it safe. Tracks like Lift Me Up and Saving My Heart are polished, radio-friendly affairs that do what they set out to do, even if they’re not as memorable as Owner of a Lonely Heart. By contrast, the ABWH contributions often sound either unfinished or overcooked. Part of the issue is that, despite the band name on the cover, not all the ABWH members were equally involved in every song. A lot of their parts were replaced or augmented by session musicians. The result? Songs that sound scattershot, with no real continuity or collective vision.
It’s not that the ABWH side is without merit. Tracks like Shock to the System and Silent Talking have strong sections and genuine energy. But then you get something like Angkor Wat, which takes such a sharp left turn into New Agey, mystical ambience that it feels like it wandered in from another record entirely. There’s a sense throughout that ABWH couldn’t decide if they wanted to sound modern and contemporary or stick to their proggy, mystical roots—and ended up half-committing to both. It’s the classic case of trying to please everyone and pleasing no one.
Out of 14 tracks, I’d say maybe half are genuinely good or at least acceptable—a better batting average than the first ABWH album, to be fair. But even the good songs often feel compromised, as if they needed more time to develop, or more buy-in from everyone involved. Deadlines loomed, the label wanted product, and so you got what you got. Some of the members themselves have had unkind words for the record in hindsight—one called it “Onion” because it made him cry, another used even stronger language. It’s hard to argue with them when you hear moments of real promise buried under all the confusion and compromise.
Adding to the oddness, Steve Howe gets a solo piece titled Masquerade. It’s a nice acoustic interlude on its own, but the title alone feels like an accidental confession about the entire project. Howe himself barely feels present elsewhere on the album, which says a lot about the fragmented recording process. Chris Squire, for his part, is more audible on the YesWest songs but largely absent on the ABWH ones, replaced in places by session bassist Tony Levin, whose capable but uncharacteristic playing only adds to the sense of disconnect.
The irony? The tour that followed was actually a triumph. Bringing both lineups together onstage to play old and new material was a spectacle fans embraced. Everyone got their moment in the spotlight, and even if the studio album was a patchwork mess, the live show delivered what the album only promised. Years later, a live recording was released, though in truncated form that didn’t fully capture the scale of the tour. It’s telling that, in this case, it was the tour that supported the album, but the album that needed the tour to justify itself.
In the end, Union is one of those “interesting failure” records. It’s not unlistenable, and it’s not devoid of good ideas. But it’s a prime example of how even talented musicians can get lost when too many agendas and too little time collide. It’s a document of a band trying to be one, even when they clearly weren’t.
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