The Daily Vault panel has developed a kind of rhythm in recent months when it comes to greeting new recruits. As the new writer gets acclimated and joins our e-mail discussion list, two or three folks on the panel will wish them well — and then, with perfect comic timing, Jeff Clutterbuck will chime in with this tongue-in-cheek piece of advice: “Just leave your soul at the door and everything will be fine.”
I have no idea what Geffen Records’ A&R rep said to the four guys in Asia when he signed them, but “leave your souls at the door” seems like a decent guess.
Asia’s inaugural lineup of guitarist Steve Howe (Yes), drummer Carl Palmer (ELP), keyboard player Geoff Downes (Buggles/Yes) and bassist/lead vocalist John Wetton (King Crimson, Roxy Music, UK) collectively constituted one of the premier assemblages of pure musical talent ever convened. With those pedigrees, fans had every right to anticipate a brilliant set of complex, multilayered progressive rock.
Except.
Except these four players had by 1982 all apparently tired of slugging it out in the cerebral, musically challenging prog bands that had fallen out of favor during the punk/new wave era. They’d been in the music business long enough to understand how the game worked, and what it might take to get back on the radio.
Thus was born Asia, a group that sounds like Yes, King Crimson and ELP teaming up to record a Survivor tribute album.
To give them credit, they nailed their demographic. Spandexed arena rock fanboys and girls flicked their lighters by the thousands to “Heat Of The Moment” and “Only Time Will Tell,” turning a quartet of aging prog-rockers into 1982’s Next Big Thing. If only there was one single redeeming feature about this album after you get past the Roger Dean cover.
Alright, maybe there are one or two things. Numbers like “Time Again” and “Cutting It Fine” do offer little teases of a more complex prog approach to the music before lapsing into lame Top 40 schlock. And while I’ve said some pretty harsh things over the years about Steve Howe’s willingness to take this ride, after listening to this disc again I’m willing to offer this mea culpa: Howe’s nimble runs on the fretboard are actually the highlight of the album.
That said, it amounts to lipstick on a pig. This album is as creatively bankrupt as they come, full of trite lyrics, bland melodies and melodramatic arrangements that only amplify the stench this stuff is letting off. Bombast works when the music is actually grand; here it sounds like nothing quite so much as musical reputations crumbling before your ears.
If you want specifics, we could go into excruciating detail about the utter saccharin pretentiousness of “Only Time Will Tell” and “One Step Closer,” Wetton’s awful can’t-hit-the-note singing on numbers like “Sole Survivor,” and the truly embarrassing “we fight / for king / and country” chorused background vocals on “Wildest Dreams” — but frankly, I don’t get paid enough for that.
