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**Fly From Here: Yes Soars Again Against All Odds**

By 2011, Yes had seemingly exhausted every possible permutation of their legendary lineup. The prog rock titans had weathered more breakups, reunions, and revolving door scenarios than a soap opera, leaving fans wondering if the magic could ever truly return. Then came "Fly From Here," an album that proved lightning could indeed strike twice – or perhaps for the twentieth time – in the same place.

The road to this unlikely renaissance began in the late 2000s when the band found themselves at yet another crossroads. Jon Anderson, the elfin voice that had guided Yes through their golden era, was sidelined by health issues, leaving the remaining members – Chris Squire, Steve Howe, Alan White, and Geoff Downes – to contemplate their future. Rather than pack it in, they made the bold decision to recruit Benoit David, a Canadian singer whose Anderson-esque vocals had caught their attention through his work with Yes tribute band Close to the Edge. It was a move that could have felt like karaoke, but instead breathed new life into the aging giants.

"Fly From Here" represents a fascinating full-circle moment for the band. The album's centerpiece is the epic title suite, a multi-part composition that actually dates back to the early 1980s when Geoff Downes and Trevor Horn (fresh from their Buggles success) briefly joined Yes for the "Drama" album. These musical fragments had been gathering dust for three decades before the band decided to resurrect and expand them into a 24-minute prog odyssey. It's like discovering a lost Beatles tape in someone's attic – except this time, the band was still around to finish what they started.

Musically, "Fly From Here" finds Yes returning to their symphonic prog roots with renewed vigor. The album eschews the pop sensibilities that marked their 1980s commercial peak in favor of the complex arrangements and mystical themes that made classics like "Close to the Edge" and "Tales from Topographic Oceans" so compelling. Squire's bass thunders with its familiar Rickenbacker growl, while Howe's guitar work sparkles with the intricate fingerpicking and soaring leads that made him a prog deity. Downes, now comfortable in his role after his earlier stint felt rushed, provides lush keyboard textures that bridge the gap between vintage mellotron warmth and modern digital possibilities.

The title suite stands as the album's crown jewel, a sprawling epic that moves through multiple movements with the confidence of a band that helped invent this very approach to rock music. "Overture" sets the stage with orchestral grandeur, while "We Can Fly From Here" builds to soaring heights that recall the band's early 1970s peak. David's vocals, while inevitably inviting Anderson comparisons, prove remarkably effective at channeling the mystical, optimistic spirit that defines Yes at their best.

Beyond the epic centerpiece, tracks like "The Man You Always Wanted Me to Be" showcase the band's ability to craft more concise prog statements without sacrificing complexity. "Life on a Film Set" pulses with urgent energy, while "Hour of Need" demonstrates that Yes can still write genuinely moving ballads. These songs prove that the album isn't just about nostalgic grandstanding – there's real creative fire burning here.

Perhaps most remarkably, "Fly From Here" doesn't sound like a band going through the motions or cashing in on past glories. Instead, it captures Yes rediscovering what made them special in the first place: the ability to create music that's simultaneously cerebral and emotional, complex and accessible, earthbound and transcendent. The production, handled by Roy Thomas Baker, gives the proceedings a crisp, modern sheen while preserving the organic interplay between instruments that makes Yes music so distinctive.

In the grand Yes discography, "Fly From Here" stands as proof that prog rock's pioneers still had something meaningful to contribute to their own legacy. While it may not reach the towering heights of "Close to the Edge" or "Fragile," it's a worthy addition to the catalog – a late-career triumph that reminded the world why Yes mattered in the first place. For a band that seemed to have explored every possible iteration of itself, "Fly From Here" suggested there might still be undiscovered country ahead. Sometimes the longest journey really does begin with a single step backward.