ESSENTIAL ALBUMS : Yes - "Tales From Topographic Oceans"

    Forever Exhibit A in the case for “Why Punk Had To Happen”, Tales From Topographic Oceans, the double album released by Yes in December 1973, not only demonstrated the polarity of the UK album and the singles charts that year (it was No 1 while Slade were stars on 45) but it was also the view from the summit of prog’s K2. How could a band like Yes go within five years from a gentle, pop and R&B band with classical overtones to releasing an often-impenetrable double set with one tune a side, with titles such as The Revealing Science Of God (Dance Of The Dawn)? Add to that stories of turning the studio into a farm for recording and it being inspired by Autobiography Of A Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda, it was enough to allow the spittle to gather in the throats of prospective punks. But it was extremely popular, and the time clearly was right for the four bodies of Hindu shastras - ruti, smriti, puranas, and tantras - to be an album’s source material. The group had already offered a sidelong suite in 1972 with Close To The Edge, now it was time to offer four.

Tales From Topographic Oceans is like a constant, pleasing story without suitable resolution. Jon Anderson running through every idea in his head out loud doth not a classic make. The delivery is exceptional, of course: Chris Squire playing his bass as lead is always a joy to hear; Alan White, in his debut studio performances with the group, adds drumming muscle, and although much was made of Rick Wakeman’s disinterest in the project, his playing runs his full gamut, from sympathetic support to full grandstanding. But the album is all about guitarist Steve Howe. There’s genuinely beautiful jazz playing around 11 minutes on The Revealing Science of God (Dance Of The Dawn); his Beatles-esque opening of The Remembering (High The Memory) and his sweet acoustic buried in The Ancient (Giants Under The Sun) underline his versatility.

It’s just the length of it: it meanders. For example, in its 18 minutes, The Ancient (Giants Under the Sun) offers music for a Kung Fu movie title sequence; invents Django Django; out-Crimsons King Crimson; has Howe’s best acoustic playing on a Yes album followed by one of Anderson’s sweetest vocals; and concludes with a strange country and western interlude; it becomes curiously unsettling. The final side, Ritual (Nous Sommes du Soleil), with its Stevie Wonder-esque refrain is still quite superb, though. This package cannot be faulted in its munificence: excellent quality live recordings, single edits, work in progress, and, of course, one of Steven Wilson’s first new ATMOS mixes of 2026.

The live material highlights just how spectacular the group were at this point - even the fabled 1973 Manchester show where Wakeman called out for his Vindaloo is here, and his solo on The Remembering is suitably spicy. To hear Anderson saying in his best Accrington accent, “This is called The Ancient (Giants Under The Sun)” to be greeted by a solitary round of applause in Cardiff emphasizes the bewilderment of hearing an album then yet to be released. The note takes the view that the group needed to get the whole thing out of their system before they could proceed to the great Relayer; the precision of Going For The One and ultimately, the commercial prowess of 90125.

When Yes were focused, they were one of the greatest pop ensembles going. To be in the box set league a listener clearly needs more than a casual acquaintance with its subject; but here it demands a love supreme, as there are around 15 versions of each track across its formats. For all those who fought the punk wars to now realize there is 15- disc box set of Tales From Topographic Oceans, RC salutes you. As much as this listener adores Yes, 50 years on, Tales..., even with all its truly revelatory moments - and there are many - overall, remains a textbook example of just because you can, it doesn’t mean you should.