Crítica do álbum
If you closed your eyes, there are times when you would swear this is early-period Yes, and it's in that context only where Colin Carter's vocals can be called "eye opening." Without the high-register vocals and harmonies of Jon Anderson, compounded by the absence of Tony Kaye (who left to form Badger), Flash feels like Yes firing on half their cylinders. Of course, Yes even at half-power is better than a lot of things (like Time and a Word, for example). Peter Banks' guitar work, in particular, is terrific, gamboling along in the multi-part powerhouse "Lifetime" and conceding nothing to his counterpart, Steve Howe. Ray Bennett's bass is clearly modeled on Chris Squire, though his instrument fails to interleave with the other sounds as well as it could (sometimes, as on "Monday Morning Eyes," the mix is to fault), and drummer Michael Hough is unleashed to emulate Bill Bruford's athleticism. Carter isn't a bad vocalist, just a little affected (think John Sloman from Uriah Heep) and often lost in the middle of the mix. The lyrics he gets don't give him a whole lot to work with, either. Yet for all the moments where Flash seems to strain to match the complexity that came so natural to Yes, they still come away with much good music. There are individual passages on every song (the opening of "Monday Morning Eyes," the quieter passages on "Black and White") where the band nearly leaves the earth. On "There No More," they actually scratch at the door of the sublime, using Yes' "South Side of the Sky" as something of a template. Even if they couldn't keep abreast of Yes, Flash was following a hallowed path here. Unfortunately, the original Flash albums (and Banks' 1973 solo album) are in sore need of remastering/repackaging, since the One Way reissues are merely adequate.