If the much-derided sub-genre of progressive rock has produced one masterpiece, it is The Yes Album. 30 seconds into the first track, the dated twee sound of their first two albums will be all but erased from your memory. (The first half of A Venture may bring it back.) It sounds impossible, but this album's complicated compositions, with verses and choruses competing with virtuoso solos and ensemble excursions into point and counterpoint really swing! And if Jon Anderson is still singing barmy nonsense with his testicles in a vice, who cares? Turn up your stereo and let Chris Squire's elegant bass riffs vibrate your sternum. Or, if you're more daring, try to wiggle in time with some of Bill Bruford's less polyrhythmic trap work. Much of the palpable inspiration for this record must be attributed to guitar-god Steve Howe, who was absent from previous Yes recordings. The lack of overblown pomposity (termed "bongloads of bogosity" by critic Jackson Griffith) that would infect their later recordings similarly must be attributed to Rick Wakeman, who didn't join the band until their next album.