I wish it was possible to write a review of Yes today without making any reference to the divisions within the band’s fan base, and between current and former members.
It isn’t.
It isn’t because, like every album the band has issued in the past two decades, the music on this, the 24th studio album from Yes, is directly affected by these divisions. You can’t talk about the music Yes is making in 2026 without talking about why Yes sounds the way it does in 2026.
There are of course those who insist this isn’t Yes at all, since it doesn’t contain a single founding member of the band, and is instead led by guitarist Steve Howe (1970-81, 1990-92, 1995-present), who joined in time for their third album, along with Geoff Downes (keys / 1980-81, 2011-present), Jon Davison (lead vocals / 2012-present), Billy Sherwood (bass and harmony vocals / 1997-2000, 2015-present), and Jay Schellen (drums / 2023-present).
But saying “This isn’t Yes!” is silly because, well, it is. Steve Howe and the estates of Chris Squire and Alan White own the name, and Squire and White both hand-picked their successors, so both legally and for all other intents and purposes, this is indeed Yes. And, as much as some Jon Anderson partisans might contend otherwise, Yes at its peak was always a collective, with its best works being the result of intense interplay and collaboration among its principals, most notably co-founders Anderson and Squire, Howe, White, Rick Wakeman and Bill Bruford.
That said, the series of albums that the band called Yes has issued since lead vocalist/lyricist Anderson was unceremoniously ousted in 2008 have only reinforced the sense that, while Anderson is not Yes, he is a critical ingredient in the band’s special sauce. There’s simply no getting around the reality that, since Anderson’s departure, the vocals, lyrics, compositions and arrangements have all suffered. Since Downes returned to the fold in 2010, Yes has sounded more like his and Howe’s prog-lite band Asia than the storied group whose name it carries.
For this, Yes’s third album in the past six years, producer/maestro Howe added the Czech National Orchestra to the mix, and then barely used them. The opening title track features a nice piano-drums-orchestra bit for less than minute before the band steps in and the orchestra mostly disappears. The rest of the song is a pastiche of Yes-ish sounds and homages that never quite convinces this five-decade fan.
Ironically, the biggest issue for this longtime admirer of Steve Howe’s guitar work is the man himself. Once upon a time, Howe was an exciting and unpredictable player who employed a wide range of tones and textures. Now, almost every note he plays is sanded clean and buffed to a shine; these days his supple, grit-free playing is more likely to evoke Wes Montgomery than Jimmy Page.
Next up on the tracklist, the often-ponderous “Turnaround Situation” is weighed down further by a cliché-ridden lyric, with only the final minute, when they briefly shift into a vocal harmony section, offering any real interest. “Love Lies Dreaming” compounds the sense of a band going through the motions, a featherweight love song with endless Howe noodling while the others sleepwalk and Davison warbles.
The group attempts an epic with the nearly 14-minute “Countermovement,” with very mixed results. The opening segment is all Howe, who then takes a lead vocal on part II and reminds you why this never used to happen; it’s a painful listen. Toward the end of part II they consciously evoke “Your Move” with mandolin and big bouncy bass (Sherwood’s bass playing and harmony vocals are once again the strongest aspects of the album). Part III then gets a bit bluesy, with some rhythmic interest (Sherwood/Schellen wrote the music), before Downes takes a chirpy solo and Howe goes off, leading into the closing instrumental section. Part IV is Howe sending those familiar arcing notes over Downes washes, then repeating over a heavier rhythm section, then transitioning to another a capella section. The track ends up feeling uneven, disjointed and altogether too Howe-centric.
“Ariadne” is interesting, retelling a classical legend a la Big Big Train. The orchestra is more fully incorporated, the band moves through some lively bits and Downes and Sherwood, who co-wrote the track with Davison, feel fully engaged. “All Hands On Deck” shows similar promise at the opening—big, crunchy guitar paired with Hammond, Deep Purple style—right up until Howe begins to sing, at which point you wonder what could have been.
Penultimate track “Outside The Box” might be the best thing here, opening with an a capella Davison-Sherwood vocal section over acoustic and electric guitar. It then transitions to full band instrumental with Davison chants over music that’s skronky, weird and cool; it’s the most Yes-like sequence here, though the production still feels too clean. The album proper closes with a whimper, as Davison’s solo tune “Emotional Intelligence” floats away on New Age butterfly wings.
There are also, for whatever reason, two cuts labeled as “bonus tracks.” The Davison/Howe number “Jambustin’” is a vague socio-political rant that exposes Davison’s greatest weakness: the heavier the music gets, the more mismatched his vocals feel. Sherwood’s “Watching The River Roll” is gently propelled by his excellent bass work, but otherwise rather bland.
With band members scattered from England to LA, these songs were constructed via file sharing, and it shows. In classic Yes, you had five people who sometimes sounded like they were all playing a different song, but they generally did it in the same room, and when the pieces fit together, their individual approaches coalesced into something magical and unique. Those kinds of dynamics between the players are absent here; everything feels just as cool and studied as Howe’s guitar lines.
Steve Howe is obviously in complete control here, and the end result isn’t terrible, but isn’t very good either. It’s adequate in the sense that it’s professionally performed and produced and has intermittent flashes of musical interest and imagination. But that’s not nearly enough on an album that, by virtue of the name and logo it carries, is tasked with adding on to the legacy of an iconic prog band.
It doesn’t.