So what do we have here? Let’s see: world’s most unnecessary prog supergroup names itself after world’s largest continent, releases self-titled debut LP that subsumes worst prog instincts in attempt to score big hit singles, and ends up with No. 1 album in the U.S. in 1982. Oh, and world’s largest continent inexplicably fails to sue for slander.
Reality is so depressing. No wonder people love Roger Dean, whose fantasy-themed artwork decorates Asia’s cover. Better to meditate upon a sea-skating serpent playing fetch with a glowing orb than acknowledge that the American people sent this tepid, Prog Lite monstrosity to the top of the charts.
I had no problem with this quartet of castaways from the likes of Yes (guitarist Steve Howe and keyboardist Geoff Downes), King Crimson (lead vocalist/bassist John Wetton) and Emerson, Lake & Palmer (drummer Carl Palmer) selling out–I never much liked the precious fares said bands were hawking to begin with. It’s the popularity of Asia’s Pop Prog that I find so inexplicable. And Asia wasn’t alone; Phil Collins was successfully retooling grandiose Art Prog Vehicle Genesis into a hit-making hotrod at the same time.
But who can blame them? Dumbing down to meet the pop crowd halfway–by doing away with the album-side-long cuts, the classical influences, the complex time signatures, and the endless displays of technical virtuosity–turned out to be good commercial horse sense. Gone was Rick Wakeman in his golden cape, and in were these rags and bones merchants, who held on to the tattered trappings of progressive rock but reined in its worst impulses. No more themes from Mussorgsky or long-winded tales from topographic oceans–it’s back to the popular song!
Asia has its pompous moments–the horn fanfares in “Cutting It Fine” and “One Step Closer” stick out, as do some of the very show-offy song openings–but the boys try their hardest to do away with all the dungeons and dragons stuff. Alas, you can take this bunch out of fantasy land but you can’t take the fantasy land out of this bunch, as they prove on big hit single “Heat of the Moment,” in which Wetton sings, “And now you find yourself in eighty-two/The disco hot spots hold no charm for you/You can’t concern yourself with bigger things/You catch the pearl and ride the dragon’s wings.” Oh well. You can’t say they didn’t try.
But lyrics aren’t this band’s strong suit, as they prove on “One Step Closer,” in which probing Jungian analyst Wetton bequeathes us the immortal “So many lines, you heard them all/A lie in every one/From men who never understand your personality.” As for the song, it gilds an almost Byrds-like melody with a lot of (blessedly truncated) prog twitches. That said I like the Byrds, and if forced to pick a keeper from Asia it’s this one.
Because it sure as hell isn’t “Time Again” (portentous bosh and bash laden with cathedral hush vocals; think Spaghetti Prog & Western, or Steely Dan meets Survivor on Pluto). Nor is it the awful “Wildest Dreams,” on which “synthesizer wizard” Howe slips his leash while philosopher king Wetton portentously tosses of dunderisms like, “They decorated all the generals/Who fought the war behind the lines.” “Without You” makes me nostalgic for Harry Nilsson; the pomposity of heartbreak has never been so unconvincingly conveyed as it is here by John “Wooden Vocals” Wetton and the rest of this progressive rock Gang of Four. (Note to Downes: Turn that synthesizer setting off “Annoy.”)
“Cutting It Fine” dabbles in the Medieval and ought to be tortured on the wheel. “Here Comes the Feeling” predicts Van Halen’s synthesizer period, but Wetton isn’t Sammy Hagar much less David Lee Roth. And Eddie Van Halen is nowhere to be found. I like Howe’s sharp-edged guitar riff on “Heat of the Moment,” and I can even understand why it scored big. It’s catchy. But it’s also craven, lowest common denominator dreck, and let’s not forget about the discos and dragon wings.
“Only Time Will Tell” is a prettified power ballad of the sort that makes me wish for a power outage; from the bad synthesized trumpets to Carl Palmer’s dumbed-down drum bash to Wetton’s faux emotive vocals it’s formulaic to a fault. “Sole Survivor” also reminds me of what Van Halen would become; it’s all there in the synth and the drums. But Van Halen packed a sonic punch; Wetton and the boys turn this uptempo march into mulch. And the risible lyrics (Wetton rides the hounds of hell! Wetton falls off and almost gets killed!) and very limp instrumental interlude don’t help.
Listening to this stuporgroup is like dunking your head in a tepid vat of suck; Asia’s bad, bland, and barters in bathos, and the success of their dreck debut is proof that nobody ever went broke underestimating the tastes of the American listening public. I never had any problem saying No to Yes; No way do I say Yes to this band of slumming musical technocrats.
Asia the Band? Asia the Continent is gunning for your ass.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
D-
