Considering Yes’ long and convoluted history, it would be unfair to compare Aurora to their early records. More fittingly, it should be considered among the albums Jon Davison has sung on. One of three younger members, Davison flits between the new blood (Billy Sherwood and Jay Schellen) and older guard (Geoff Downes and Steve Howe) to bellow out shrill vocals over brusque, intricate hooks. Of the four projects he has fronted, Yes for Aurora is definitely Davison’s most confident turn yet.
While he may never escape Jon Anderson’s shadow in its entirety, Davison nonetheless sounds like his own man, imbuing such tracks as “Turnaround Situation” with personality, passion and peerless energy. Singing the verses in falsetto, he adopts a more gravelly tone for the chorus. Sherwood is admittedly shyer on bass than predecessor Chris Squire, decorating the sonic backdrop rather than driving it onward. Howe opts for instrumental flourishes, especially on the pulsating “Love Lies Dreaming”, anchoring the ballad in flamenco chord structures.
“Aurora”, a Davison-Howe co-write, experiments with funk; its choppy rhythms, reminiscent of Nile Rodgers and Daft Punk, cement the composition. Aided by the Czech National Symphony Orchestra, the title track earmarks a more danceable terrain for this iteration, while the instrumental bridge shimmies under the imprint of space jazz. If Roy Wood were still writing pop tunes, they’d likely sound in a similar style. Howe apes a Brian May-esque solo; fitting since Howe guested on Queen‘s penultimate record Innuendo in 1991. All is fair in love and prog.
“Countermovement” is the most sprawling number, the densest too; a monster power ballad that fairly acquits credit with the five men on it. Schellen plays the drums like his life, as well as his wage, depends on it, a truly exhilarating exhibition of percussion. Downes adds symphonic riffs, his keyboards a layering to Howe’s spiky guitars. The two longest-serving members are evidently energised by the younger blood, especially the six-string musician who plays with the heft of a burgeoning artist out on his first proper tour.
The lilting piano intro to “Love Lies Dreaming” is performed by Downes, a chamber piece that elevates Davison up as a frontperson. This symmetry of noise could have been a disaster worthy of Spinal Tap. Yet, such is the professional acumen that Yes make everything stick nicely together in a fusion of some kind.
Howe is credited as producer, so his contributions are the most obvious; he sings parts of “Outside the Box” himself. Wisely, Howe holds it back on “Ariadne”, letting the pianos and bass instruments take centre stage. Sherwood is responsible for some of the poppier-sounding lead guitars on Aurora, so the arrangements aren’t solely those for Howe to take credit for. Davison sings parts of the record on his own, unadorned by hooks or cadences, warning listeners about a misspent youth after following advice from AI devices.
The central tenet of Aurora is to focus on authentic music at all points. The record climaxes with “Emotional Intelligence”, a tune Davison mostly wrote himself, and his bandmates choose to let him take this bow. Any contributions on their part are window-dressing, so the singer litters the missing spaces with improvised scatting and breathy cues. Summarising the entire album in a matter of moments, Davison uses this moment to speak out his inner truth, as James Joyce did with “The Dead” on Dubliners.
Yes have traditionally intended their records to be sonic novels, and Aurora is a fine collection of short stories. Progressive rock needs to constantly evolve, in keeping with the genre’s title, to distinguish it from other blues variants. Yes continue to evolve; Aurora proves Davison is just getting warmed up as frontman.