Yes :: And You and I
I wrote a bunch of junk about this song (stuff like: 1972, moog, mini-moog, mellotron, leslie speakers, neo-Wagnerian, blah blah blah, etc. etc), and realized it was boring. So, I’ll just say that And You and I makes me happy. I like the beginning where it seems like they’re just figuring out chords and creating it as they go and then BLAMMO, a ten minute epic is in the bag.
My favorite part is close to eight minutes in when there’s a little turn and a full on jam ensues. Unfortunately, I’m incapable of accurately describing the capabilities of Yes or any other band/musician that can orchestrate such complicated musical structures, but the geek in me is totally appreciative. Even though I’ve been listening to the lo-fi brilliance of Jay Reatard all week and loving it, I still get a big kick out of Yes and all their production and time changes.
If I could do what they do, I would. Armed with a piece of shit acoustic guitar, I once made up a sprawling epic involving my cat George going on a journey to find an amulet (of power); certain elements of the sound and lyrics at the end of And You and I encapsulate the tone I was going for:
And you and I climb, crossing the shapes of the morning.
And you and I reach over the sun for the river.
And you and I climb, clearer, towards the movement.
And you and I called over valleys of endless seas.
Just beautiful. My song was pretty difficult to ‘write’, as I don’t know how to play guitar and was only strumming and droning on about mountains and…wizards(!), so it’s probably a good thing I forgot how it went exactly. I’ll leave that sort of thing to the people who can handle it, I suppose.
Anyhow, even though I’m not sure what it’s about (God? A boy and his dog? A fisherman and the sea? A father and son? George and I? Preachers and teachers? Barb’s mom?), this song sounds like life and nature and humans and growing and traveling and making things, and it lifts my spirits when I’m feeling down.
And You and I (13.9MB MP3)
Yes (homepage)
This song makes me feel anxious. I keep thinking “I should be frolicing in fields and then getting into a rocketship made of flowers and shooting off into the Universe.” Or it makes me worried that someone is coming up behind me to shove me into a giant hamster ball filled with flute-playing leprachauns. This begs the question: what is wrong with me that I don’t like to have fun anymore?