I like things that feel impermanent. I don’t
know why that is; possibly it’s something as slight as having
liked David Bowie’s delivery of the actual word “impermanence”
in “Changes,” though more probably it has
to do with how even the most mightily pretentious pieces of work seem
charming when history has stripped them of all their claims to importance.
Yessongs was unforgivably bloated when it was new, but who
can look on that triple-LP now and not feel a trace of pity? The cover
design, the side-long songs, the bloat. Once they were certain that
someone was listening.
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