There comes a point in the lifespan of legacy progressive rock bands where survival alone becomes the headline. Yes, called ‘The World’s Greatest Progressive Rock Band’ by the venerable Yes Music Podcast, has not only survived the deaths of founder Chris Squire and long-serving drummer Alan White, but has also thrived. Part of the band’s recent success is due to guitarist and current producer Steve Howe. Another essential component of the band’s last 4 studio albums is the current singer, Jon Davison. 

New albums arrive wrapped in nostalgia, cautiously echoing old triumphs while avoiding risk. Aurora, the twenty-fourth studio release from Yes, refuses that route. Instead, it sounds like a band still searching, still rearranging the architecture of its identity, and still committed to the idea that progressiveness is not a style but a process.

Produced by Steve Howe, Aurora extends the creative resurgence the group began with The Quest and Mirror to the Sky. Yet this album feels leaner in concept and more unified in tone. Rather than recreating the sprawling mysticism of the 1970s catalog, the current lineup channels the essence of classic Yes with layered arrangements, shifting moods, melodic optimism, and instrumental interplay into something more contemporary and human-scaled. Unlike the half-backed Heaven & Earth album from 2014, all the Yes men are fully engaged and present in Aurara and the album breathes with vitality. 

The title track, “Aurora,” opens the record with patient grandeur. Howe’s guitar lines drift through Geoff Downes’ luminous keyboard textures while Jon Davison delivers lyrics that evoke emergence, light, and transformation. The piece unfolds gradually rather than explosively, establishing the album’s central idea: discovery through movement. Written by Davison and Howe, the song is an ambitious grand start, and also provides a fine canvas for Downes’s distinctive keyboard stylings. Strings have been incorporated into the song, as in the two prior studio releases, yet the Czech National Symphony never overpowers Howe’s guitar lines or displaces Downes, both of whom get extended solos. The album is off to a fine start. 

Jon Davison’s composition, “Turnaround Situation”, the album’s second single, pushes into more aggressive terrain, driven by sharp rhythmic accents from Jay Schellen and muscular low-end support from Billy Sherwood. Lyrically foreboding,  there is a tension here that recalls the drama of latter-day Yes without directly imitating any specific era. Downes’ piano and Hammond B-3 work is especially effective, weaving cinematic atmosphere into the song’s restless momentum.

“Love Lies Dreaming” slows the pace and leans into melodic introspection. Davison’s vocal performance is among his strongest on record with the band. Davison is warm, reflective, and emotionally centered rather than theatrically ornate. Downes is again at the center of the melodic foundation, with layers of synth, piano, and organ, while Howe employs a plethora of acoustic and electric guitars.  The lyrics, written by Howe and Davison, are obtuse and whimsical.

The arrangement leaves room for silence and space, allowing Howe’s acoustic embellishments to breathe naturally.

At nearly fourteen minutes, “Countermovement” serves as the album’s centerpiece and clearest statement of intent. This is where the band stretches furthest compositionally, moving through multiple sections without sounding stitched together. Indeed, the song is one written co-written by the entire band and is Jay Schellen’s first writing credit on a Yes album. Sherwood and Schellen provide a remarkably fluid rhythmic foundation while Howe navigates between intricate lead passages and textural accompaniment. The track captures the album’s central achievement: complexity without clutter. Howe’s baritone kicks off the vocal section of the song, in one of his most expressive vocal contributions on a Yes album. Davison’s harmony vocals add to the sonic landscape of the song, and there are trademark Yes Spanish guitar, lap steel, and harpsichord-like touches throughout the song. Also fantastic, aggressive Howe solos and interplay with Downes’ synths. 

“Ariadne,” written by Davision, Billy Sherwood, and Downes, reportedly rooted in ideas dating back to The Quest sessions, carries an air of continuity and reflection. Its melodic phrasing feels unmistakably Yes, but the production avoids excessive density even though it’s the second song on the album to include the Czech National Symphony Orchestra. Instead of overwhelming the listener with layers, the band emphasizes clarity and atmosphere. The latter part of the song features wonderful Sherwood harmonies and aggressive Howe guitars. 

“All Hands on Deck”, written solely by Steve Howe, injects concise energy into the sequencing, functioning almost like a progressive-rock sprint. Howe’s guitars growl with unusual aggression, sparing with Downes’ organ for dominance. Downes’ synth work makes an all too brief appearance before the song comes to an end. 

“Outside the Box” follows appropriately, embracing asymmetrical structures and harmonic turns that keep the album from settling into predictability. Written by Sherwood and Howe, the song’s accoplella opening morphs into a dense and aggressive middle section where Shellen, Downes, Sherwood, and Howe turn the intensity up to 11.

One of the record’s biggest surprises is the Davison composition, “Emotional Intelligence,” a compact meditation on modern alienation and human connection. The song hints lyrically at artificial intelligence and emotional ambiguity without becoming heavy-handed. Musically, it balances accessibility with enough harmonic sophistication to remain engaging after repeated listens.

The bonus tracks deepen the album’s personality rather than feeling disposable. “Jambustin’” offers a looser, groove-oriented side of the band, while the Billy Sherwood sung “Watching the River Roll” closes things quietly and thoughtfully, emphasizing mood over virtuosity.

Throughout Aurora, Howe’s production favors cohesion over spectacle. The album does not chase the pristine sterility common to many modern prog releases; instead, it preserves a sense of musicians playing together toward a shared vision. Downes supplies much of the record’s atmospheric identity, while Sherwood and Schellen anchor the music with understated confidence. Davison, increasingly comfortable within the band’s legacy, delivers perhaps his most integrated performance since joining the group.

What makes Aurora compelling is not that it recreates the past, but that it acknowledges it while moving forward. The album understands that the defining characteristic of Yes has never been nostalgia. It has always been curiosity.

And on Aurora, curiosity still burns brightly.