I read about the band Yes long before I ever actually heard their music. They were built up in print as musical geniuses. I read about mindbending progressive rock, with experimental soundscapes and touches of classical music influence. I was intrigued, and imagined the sound was like the rock bands I had already heard, visceral and exciting, only smarter somehow. But when I actually heard a Yes album, disappointment set in. It was not like the rock bands I knew. The excitement had been bled out of the sound to allow room for noodling that bordered on the dainty. At the time, it sounded to me like they were the kind of "rock" musicians who owned tight leggings and puffy shirts, and though I would eventually appreciate their efforts more, that image has always stuck with me.
The point is that Brooklyn stoner/prog band Titan is what I always wanted Yes to sound like. They craft fifteen minute long slabs of driving, exciting prog rock, and never does it sound like they might be wearing capes of any kind. True, the beginning of their 2007 album A Raining Sun of Light and Love does begin with a brief fingerpicked guitar passage and some odd vocals, which represents their nearest approach to the Renaissance Faire style of prog material. But even that bit is quickly taken over by echo and delay effects until the sound completely decays and, in an introduction to Titan's take on prog rock, you are launched full force into space by muscular guitar and Hammond organ over a driving beat. With A Raining Sun of Light and Love, Titan manages to make sprawling prog epics sound energized and vital, like you are traveling at extremely high speeds over bizarre and unfamiliar terrains, which is no small accomplishment considering that their albums are largely instrumental.
Listening to Titan, I find myself wishing that I could take their entire sound and airbrush it onto the side of a 1975 Econoline van. In the end, I imagine that's the greatest seal of approval I could give them.
