Peter
Banks was relieved of his position as
lead guitarist with the formative "Yes"
after two albums. Not because of his abilities,
but because of a penchant for rather overdoing
the Rock 'n' Roll life style and tending
to have a bit too much of a good time
unlike some of his more studious band
mates. When Steve Howe replaced Banks
he had to firstly learn how to play Banks’
parts, and like all “Yes” guitarists,
had to play in that style to this day.
However, Steve Howe throws a terrible
wobbly if Banks’ name is even mentioned
in his hearing, scotching any chance of
any further collaboration between Banks
and any of his old colleagues. That is
pretty ironic considering that over the
years everybody in the band has left and
re-joined at some point, an exception
being bass player Chris Squire, who seemed
to have managed the devious waters of
being in a band rather well. Bill Bruford,
acknowledged as the drummer's drummer,
left out of sheer boredom. Rick Wakeman,
the keyboard wizard and champion of the
draughts table and skittles, was once
fired for eating his curry and chips dinner
washed down with a few pints of Killkenny,
while still playing the more tedious parts
of the extremely overblown epic "Tales
from a Topographic Ocean" in front
of a packed Wembley Stadium. When lead
vocalist Jon Anderson and Wakeman (again)
left in 1980, they simply incorporated
pop duo The Buggles (Trevor Horn and Geoff
Downes, famous for their one hit wonder
"Video killed the Radio Star",
which was eventually to lead to Howe and
Downes clearing off to form the money
spinning "Asia") into their
ranks. Perhaps at this stage “Yes” should
of been known as “Yuggles”, but to be
fair the record buying public never seemed
to mind buying each new release as long
as the name “Yes” was on it and a nice
Roger Dean designed cover, so the album
looked good nonchalantly lying on the
coffee table.
So what did the bad boy of Progressive
Rock do after leaving “Yes”? Form a Punk
band? Well, not quite, but certainly as
close as Punk Rock ever came to Progressive
Rock. “Flash” was the name of the band,
a name thought up over cold pie and chips
with a couple of warm lagers after their
first rehearsals. Flash by name, Flash
by nature.
Peter Banks had found himself the perfect
lineup to replace his old colleagues,
but thereby hangs a tale as by the time
they got into the studio. Peter's old
drinking buddy from “Yes”, Tony Kaye,
had also been tossed aside as the others
coveted the multitalented skills of Mr.
Rick Wakeman and his many assorted keyboards.
They were whisked from those laid back
folks with 'The Strawbs' and positioned
in all their glory taking up the whole
left hand side of the stage at every “Yes”
concert. Far more prestigious than Tony
Kaye's simple Hammond organ. More is not
necessarily better. So Tony Kaye was rushed
out of one door straight into the door
marked Flash. (Tony Kaye never actually
toured with the band although his playing
here is nothing short of stunning. This
was always going to be Peter Banks’ band.
To be fair to Tony Kaye he had been rather
caught on the rebound and decided to take
a bit of a break from playing in a band
before forming his own. He did so later
and formed the keyboard oriented fabulous
“Badger”, which suited his playing.) On
lead vocals was Colin Carter, who looked
like an action man doll with long curly
blonde hair, and with a talent for singing
Peter's songs and smashing tambourines
at the end of each song. Indeed, he sounded
a lot like Peter Banks’ previous singer,
but didn't insist upon singing his own
non-functional lyrics. On bass guitar
was Ray Bennett, one of Rock 'n' Roll’s
most inventive bassist, running out fluid
bass lines that not only underpinned all
of Banks’ solos, but laid down their own
stories as well. One listen to opening
track "Small Beginnings" will
leave you gasping as his bass is all over
the song, while not taking anything away
from the lead guitars or keyboards. He
was also the owner of a very clear pair
of pipes enabling the band to incorporate
soaring harmonies amidst even the heaviest
sections of the music, and, as in the
second song on this collection, take over
on lead vocals to leave Carter to his
tambourine smashing. Next we have the
gentleman with the sticks in his hands
behind the drumkit, Mr. Mike Hough, an
exponent of his skills of rare talent
and violence, probably the find of the
band. His live drum solos, though thankfully
brief, used to leave audiences gasping.
There are five songs on this debut album
and they come in two varieties, two relatively
short ballads (about five minutes each),
and three longer, well-structured pieces
with room for each element of the band
to show off their skills. The pick of
which has to be "Dreams of Heaven".
(Actually the gem of an idea for a song
that Peter Banks had in his last days
with “Yes”. They changed it into "Perpetual
Change", but here you get it in its
full rocked out glory.) “Dreams of Heaven”
clocks in at just under thirteen minutes,
however, it often used to be stretched
out to thirty minutes when they used it
as a closure to their live sets. The music
is fast and furious, edgy, and seldom
relaxed. They often played ten chords
when three would of done. What the heck.
If you’ve got it, flaunt it. But they
could never be accused of being cliché,
gauche, or mediocre.
After touring all over the world for
two years, three albums by the band, a
solo album from Peter Banks, a disinterested
management, a confused record label, tempers
shortening, and morale dropping, the band
imploded in true Spinal Tap fashion after
a show in Alberquque, New Mexico. It really
is a shame.
Despite all the usual accusations of
pomposity and self indulgence leveled
at Progressive Rock, “Flash” had a vibrancy
and optimism that transcended all the
stereotypes of seventies rock music. They
really loved their music and it always
showed.
Definitely some of the classiest music
to come out of the early seventies and
a great addition to any CD collection.
Even cooler, it has an album cover anybody
would like to have draped across their
coffee table, but it definitely isn't
by Roger Dean.
They were Flash - their life was short,
but burned bright. They came and went
in a Flash.
Pawed by Mott The Dog
Remastered by Ella Crew
E-mail: review@mott-the-dog.com
