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Yes: Fly from Here

 A l b u m   D e t a i l s


Label: Frontiers Records
Released: 2011.06.22
Time:
 47:28
Category: Progressive Rock
Producer(s): Trevor Horn
Rating:
Media type: CD
Web address: www.yesworld.com
Appears with: Jon Anderson, Steve Howe, Rick Wakeman, Chris Squire
Purchase date: 2012
Price in €: 1,00





 S o n g s ,   T r a c k s


[1] Fly from Here – Overture (Horn, Downes) - 1:53
[2] Fly from Here, Part I: We Can Fly (Horn, Downes, Squire) - 6:00
[3] Fly from Here, Part II: Sad Night at the Airfield (Horn, Downes) - 6:41
[4] Fly from Here, Part III: Madman at the Screens (Horn, Downes) - 5:16
[5] Fly from Here, Part IV: Bumpy Ride (Steve Howe) - 2:15
[6] Fly from Here, Part V: We Can Fly [Reprise] (Horn, Downes, Squire) - 1:44
[7] The Man You Always Wanted Me to Be (Squire, Johnson, Sessler) - 5:07
[8] Life on a Film Set (Horn, Downes) - 5:01
[9] Hour of Need (Howe) - 3:07
[10] Solitaire (Howe) - 3:30
[11] Into the Storm (Squire, Wakeman, Howe, Horn, David, White) - 6:54

 A r t i s t s ,   P e r s o n n e l


Benoît David - Lead Vocals
Steve Howe - Guitars, Backing Vocals, Co-Lead Vocals on [9], Engineer
Chris Squire - Bass, Backing Vocals, Lead Vocals on [7]
Geoff Downes - Keyboards
Alan White - Drums

Oliver Wakeman - Additional Keyboards on [2,6,9]
Trevor Horn - Backing Vocals, Additional Keyboards, Additional Acoustic Guitar on [3], Producer
Luís Jardim - Percussion
Gerard Johnson - Piano on [7]

Tim Weidner - Mixing, Engineer
Graham Archer - Engineer
Mark Lewis - Engineer
Patrick MacDougall - Engineer
Curtis Schwartz - Engineering on [10]
Simon Bloor - Assistant Engineer
Brad Brooks - Assistant Engineer
Edd Hartwell - Assistant Engineer
Andy Hughes - Assistant Engineer
John Davis - Mastering
Roger Dean - Sleeve Design
Giulio Cataldo - Design
Rob Shanahan - Photography

 C o m m e n t s ,   N o t e s


Recorded between October 2010 - February 2011 at SARM West Coast Studios, Los Angeles.



What's the world coming to when Jon Anderson can get sampled on last year's Kanye West album – but he's not on the new Yes album? Ah, well – as he used to sing, "Silly human race." After giving Anderson the long-distance runaround, the prog vets have a new frontman: Benoit David, recruited from the Yes tribute band Close to the Edge. Their first album in 10 years aims high with a 24-minute, six-part title suite. Unfortunately, the band gets drowned out by weak vocals and synth goop – Steve Howe takes only a few disappointingly brief guitar solos, beyond his acoustic "Solitaire." And when the new guy starts singing, tempus can't fugit fast enough.

Rating: [2/5]

Rob Sheffield - July 12, 2011
RollingStone.com



When you hear Yes bassist Chris Squire sing the lyric “we have found ourselves anew,” on ‘The Man You Always Wanted Me To Be,’ one can’t help but apply the thought to what the band has accomplished with their new album ‘Fly From Here,’ the first with Benoit David on vocals in place of longtime vocalist Jon Anderson.

Certainly, David and producer/Yes associate Trevor Horn deserve the prog-rock game ball for helping to deliver the first great Yes album of the new millennium, and more than that, the best album from the group since the “classic” lineup reunited in the mid-‘90s.

Horn had the unenviable task of shepherding the complicated Yes machinery and navigating the inner workings to bring out an album’s worth of music worthy of the Yes name, something that many naysayers of the group would have told you couldn’t be done.

After all, regardless of who is on vocals, how reasonable is it to expect something remarkable from a band that is more than 40 years into their recording career? Horn, who worked previously with the group in two very different capacities on ‘90125’ and ‘Drama,’ helps to prove with ‘Fly From Here’ that some things are truly timeless.

Because of the involvement of Horn and keyboardist Geoff Downes, two returning pieces of the ill-fated Anderson-less 1980 ‘Drama’ album, there have been comparisons to that era when talking about ‘Fly From Here,’ which does the album a disservice for anyone listening for the first time – it’s an unnecessary association. ‘Fly From Here’ is best described as simply an album that sounds like “classic Yes,” which is a huge accomplishment.

With ‘Fly From Here,’ Yes have successfully completed one of the most risky vocalist transitions in the progressive rock genre since Genesis unsuccessfully tried to replace Phil Collins with newcomer Ray Wilson. While Wilson’s vocals might have been a little bit too far removed from his predecessor, Benoit David possesses just enough of that Anderson-esque cherub-like vocal quality to sound comfortably familiar, but also brings enough of his own earnest youthful honesty to the vocals to make the songs on ‘Fly From Here’ distinctly his own.

David had a lot riding on his shoulders with this album, as the most musically visible member of the group, and he should receive huge amounts of credit for working through his relative inexperience in the studio to deliver a performance that exudes the confidence necessary to carry these songs and really make them feel like Yes.

Certainly, Squire, guitarist Steve Howe and drummer Alan White have plenty of experience in this area, but it really fell on David to bring it home and he accomplishes that and then some.

Spanning nearly 24 minutes, the ‘Fly From Here’ suite that opens the album really brings out a multitude of sounds and feelings that haven’t been heard on a Yes album in some time. Squire’s background vocals remain an essential component of the Yes sound. Throughout the suite, they pair with and compliment David’s work nicely. Midway through ‘Sad Night At The Airfield,’ the second movement of the piece, an ominously stark bass line from Squire punctuates the swirling mix of desolation and hope that runs throughout ‘Fly From Here.’

Late in the album, ‘Hour of Need’ lightens things up, laid against a pleasant bed of acoustic guitar from Howe, delivering a vibe that comes closest to the band’s sound of the ’80s, circa-’90125′ and ‘Big Generator.’ Barely crossing the three minute mark, it’s a somewhat unexpected and welcome piece of the album. (Interestingly, there’s a longer version available as a Japanese bonus track, that stretches out to nearly seven minutes.)

At 48 minutes, the album has good pacing, and even with the ‘Fly From Here’ suite taking up a large chunk of that, none of the songs overstay their welcome. Fans of both the ’80s and “classic” eras of Yes should enjoy this album equally. If you can leave your vocal prejudice at the door, you’ll find that David is a worthy addition to the group.

Rating: [4/5]

Matt Wardlaw July 11, 2011
ultimateclassicrock.com



Progressive rock's original big beasts release their first album in a decade while the movement makes an unlikely revival among bands as diverse as Mostly Autumn and Everything Everything. Alas, Yes are no longer the conquering overlords whose long songs and twiddly time signatures sired Tales from Topographic Oceans and gave punk a nemesis. Cape-wearing keyboard maestro Rick Wakeman has gone with signature vocalist Jon Anderson, who is replaced by – of all things – a singer from a Yes tribute band. Fly from Here has a go at reproducing the vintage era. Housed in trademark Roger Dean sleeve, the title track – an actually quite lovely pastoral anthem in six movements – dates from a 30-year-old demo. And yet, meandering newer songs suggest that rediscovering creativity has been a problem. When the remodelled Yes end up reworking an old demo by Trevor Horn and Geoff Downes's other band, Buggles, (as Life on a Film Set) the game is surely up.

Dave Simpson - 14 July 2011
© 2015 Guardian News and Media



A decade after their last studio release, Yes has issued Fly from Here, and it's not only a keeper, but as good as any record to come from the group since 1974. Consisting here of Chris Squire (bass, vocals), Steve Howe (guitars, vocals), Alan White (drums), Geoff Downes (keyboards), and Benoit David (lead vocals), and with Trevor Horn producing, an obvious connection can be made between this album and 1980's Drama. But Fly from Here is a long way from that earlier album, even if the songs do possess a good deal of drama. Downright urgency is closer to it. Benoit David may not have Jon Anderson's range, but he makes up for it with deep expressiveness; and that, coupled with virtuoso-level playing and wonderfully elegant mixing of the vocals, allows this album to stand alongside the group's best work of the last 35 years.

Some of what's here will invite comparisons with their early years: the first six tracks are a six-part suite ("Fly from Here"), but it's not essential to hear them linked. Astonishingly for a 2011 release, the group sounds as though they're a bunch of kids again, inventing progressive rock for the first time, or perhaps perfecting it, complete with romantic ballads and folk-like pieces that stand in sharp contrast to the grander productions on which the album rests. Though nothing is overlong or complex, the songs are all presented with a depth and lushness that makes one think, at first, of a soundtrack to a movie, and then of the movie itself, as though Horn, Downes, and Squire (who, with Howe, dominate the composers' credits) had a long-form, multi-media piece in mind rather than just an album. And they execute it all with a fullness of sound and compelling melodic content that pulls the listener in, almost as surely as any first-rate opera; and with Howe's mostly instrumental contributions to break up the majestic production of Horn's songs, this album does, at times, remind one of the best moments of Tales from Topographic Oceans. Lyrics like "Dreaming, seeing you there" lofting gently over thin, silky sheets of sound, can sweep the listener away, and that's only one of the moments where the group's unique elements take hold. Fans of Howe's playing will also not be disappointed: his electric guitars are represented in complex, intense layers, but his acoustic work isn't shorted, providing quietly gorgeous openings to about a third of the material here. His "Hour of Need" is the most genial acoustic ballad that this group has delivered since "Your Move" on The Yes Album, 40 years ago. It's followed by "Solitaire," possibly the finest solo guitar piece we may ever hear from Howe on a Yes album. And it all closes with the rollicking "Into the Storm," all electric and all cylinders pumping, and, ironically, the least interesting track on the album.

Bruce Eder - All Music Guide



The long version: longtime Yes vocalist/songwriter/figurehead Jon Anderson falls ill with respiratory issues, is unable to participate in a 2008 tour, is replaced by Canadian Benoît David, former vocalist for a Yes tribute band named Close to the Edge. Legendary producer Trevor Horn (formerly of The Buggles and Yes’ 1980 album, Drama) is recruited for a new Yes project: Fly From Here, set to revive the epic title track which was written (but never recorded) in the days of Drama. Anderson, who was kept blind from the personnel changes, gets wind, gets pissed, writes a disappointed letter on his website, moves on with his life. The short version: Despite an absolute mountain of bullshit and the nearly certain prospect that Fly From Here, their 20th studio album, would be a laughable disaster, Yes have released their best work since the ‘70s.

First, let’s talk about the new guy. David’s voice is naturally deeper than Anderson’s, but when he chooses to skyrocket into his upper register, like he does in the tender initial moments of “Fly From Here: pt. 1 (We Can Fly),” his history as a Jon Anderson tribute singer is unmistakable. Remarkably, David actually manages to kinda do his own thing with the material. While it’s never quite far from your mind that, at least sentimentally, you’re listening to the next best thing, he avoids the pratfalls of sheer mimicry by letting the material dictate his style. Plus, the dude has an excellent voice all on his own merits, a fact which is evident from those first angelic sighs on “We Can Fly.” Yes diehards who cried foul over Anderson’s less than cordial replacement drama may have a right to gripe, but they should pipe down with the tribute band jokes until they’ve heard what David has to offer in the studio.

As for the musical content on Fly From Here, it’s an undeniable return to form. Horn’s influence turns out to be the band’s saving grace—not only is he credited with co-writing a bulk of the album’s material (including a large chunk of the 25-minute title track), but his silky presence behind the boards is an undeniable glue that holds the album together. Horn’s cohort Geoff Downes (a former bandmate in both The Buggles and Yes) is back in the fold on keyboards, replacing sometimes member/virtuoso Rick Wakeman (and Wakemen’s son, Oliver). Downes’ parts favor moody synth ambience and texture over flights of fancy—which is actually a welcome relief in the expanses of these already busy tracks. As for the rest of the gang, it’s business as usual—unbelievable musicianship, tight band interaction—only this time, the songs and production values are way higher than they’ve been in ages. Chris Squire’s bass still pulses with his trademark pick-assisted effects; Alan White’s drums punch and stutter consistently; meanwhile, guitarist Steve Howe, the album’s MVP, reclaims his throne as the world’s greatest prog-rock guitarist. Throughout, Howe’s guitars are spectacular, utilizing fluid effects, avoiding dated ‘80s tones in favor of the blistering psychedelic fills he perfected in the band’s early days.

“Every day that you waste is one more that you’ve lost,” David sings—a sentiment dutifully heeded by the players. The brilliant title track alone is worth the price of admission. The gorgeous piano overture starts classical in nature and then gets all ‘80s on our asses with chugging distortion and sweeping synth pads. Working its way from the majestic main theme to the futuristic math-funk of “Fly From Here pt. IV (Bumpy Ride),” it somehow all hangs together as one piece.

Honestly, who knows how long the whole Benoit thing will last? With Yes’ constant member shifting and hot/cold dynamics, their liner notes basically read like a prog-rock tabloid. I’m sure a hearty apology from Squire and company, kick-started by an old-fashioned jam session, would be enough to entice Anderson into joining his old pals once more. But if those days are in the past, if this is truly the new face of Yes, the rebirth present on Fly from Here suggests that music will outlive the gossip.

Ryan Reed - July 11, 2011
© 2015 Paste Media



Review Summary: the Yes reboot makes the head spin.

The story of Fly From Here certainly earns its prog-rock brownie points. It is, after all, a piece of ancient Yes history, no matter how insignificant: Downes and Howe put the “Fly From Here” epic to the band thirty-one years ago now, prior to Downes joining the band for Drama, their last record as heroes of their genre. Lifting the track from the archives so late in the band’s existence seems like obvious prog-rock gratification, much in the same way no one really wants to see Genesis play Twickenham unless Peter Gabriel is present to bat Phil Collins' pop-rock to the side. Fly From Here, instead, keeps its promise to the faithful by giving its crowd a categorically Yes piece of music. It’s got keyboard geekery to the left, Spanish guitars to the right, and twenty-five minutes of the same song split into parts because, well, the song makes no sense as a cohesive piece. That is about as Yes as “Starship Trooper” or “Close to the Edge” ever were, and even if the lyrics occasionally show what love-sick way Yes might have been with 90125, this is a prog-rock record that keeps its unabashedly nerdy promises. So yes, weirdly enough, 2011 is a kinda classic Yes year: Downes is back to play keyboards, Howe is present to make true the concepts of their epic, and even Chris Squire hangs about to play bass, if only to maintain that he has played on every Yes album in existence. Fly From Here certainly gives being Yes a good go.

Of course, that’s all it can really give. This isn’t Yes even if Downes and Howe are proudly digging up their musical venture, even if Squire is eternally present. This is, regardless of that, the Replacement Yes Act, created with some bizarre wish to replicate rather than develop. Any fan will immediately reflect on the absence of Jon Anderson and Rick Wakeman, the arguable pull of what made Yes a cinematic prog-rock band in the first place: the iconic vocals of Anderson and then innovatively fragmented musical song writing of Wakeman is really the band’s legacy, so it feels both suitable and laughably weird that for this record, an imitator of the former sings and the son of the latter plays keys. Benoît David, hired for his performance in a Yes tribute band of all things, gives a vocal performance that certainly plays near to his idol's styling, but as a result the record fails to update what was good about Yes to their new era, and also reads as a stupid move for a track that was proudly stamped as the work of Downes and Howe. This seems to kind of be the point in this demo- that it plays so obviously like “Close to the Edge” or even a less epic, shorter trademark Yes track, but the fact it has been revamped by Replacement Yes, or Yes 4 Teens, that it has started disputes between the new band (with Oliver Wakeman leaving during recording), suggests that Yes are attempting to make fresh music by remaking the tired and out-of-tune 70s. And not in the typical prog-rock way: this is a literal reading, given keyboard noises that make it sound as stupidly old as possible to offer a new (yet definitely old!) piece of Yes. Fly From Here can’t help but feel built on a lot of head-spinning contradictions.

When all’s said and done, Fly From Here occupies a very frustrating place in Yes’ discography, too cheesy and unarguably dated to grab any market for experimental music fans, even they unable to excuse the horribly whacky keyboard sounds of “Bumpy Ride,” but too obvious in its shortcomings to get a strong reaction from Yes diehards when you consider how “Fly From Here” is a cheap substitute for their greatest epics, not only for the absence of the two key players, but for its musical redundancy. There is little here that can grab the imagination of an audience as well as the obvious comparison in “Close to the Edge” would, and it’s obvious that Yes incorrectly recognise the virtues of creating a piece of music so rooted in their 1970s. Tracks from Fragile had the same difficulty at serving as the pieces of narrative genius they were supposed to be, moving from piano rock ballads at one point to radical synthesizer hijinks at the next. The way “Fly From Here” manages to begin with “Sad Night at the Airfield” and end with “Reprise” feels completely inorganic, and yet it really is identical to how Yes would create their oldest records, and so for that, “Fly From Here” is definitely recognisable as a thirty-one year old track. This, incidentally, is its biggest problem, as Yes records can sound notoriously dated now where they may have been innovatively cinematic pieces when they came out. Down to the album artwork, this is Yes of the 1970s, and that is the greatest curse Fly From Here suffers.

Fly From Here attempts to offer, amongst all this, an image of Yes that isn’t hampered by the past, with five tracks smuggled onto the end of the record but having no narrative relation to the ‘epic’ that sells it. This, again, is a classic Yes move, but one that wasn’t as popular as the conceptual pieces they kept pure. These tracks, as a result, feel newer just because they take a backseat on the unhealthy obsession of being the Yes of yore. “Solitaire” is a pleasant acoustic composition and even for its irrelevancy to the project probably acts as the most appeasing piece for the band in a while: it’s showy but not dated, and not elaborate enough to get anyone disputing it. The other tracks- “Life on a Film Set” and “Into The Storm,” suggest that a newer Yes can’t break old habits, and while they’ve spent a whole twenty-five minutes indulging those habits, these two tracks feel as much a celebration of the self as ever. And in a way, it’s hard to blame Downes and Howe for Fly From Here: they’re part of the horribly eternal paradox that is Yes, and they kinda like it.

Robin Emeritus - July 1st, 2011
Copyright 2005-2014 Sputnikmusic.com



Yes was my first rock concert. It was in the summer of 1991. If you had told me then that Yes would last for at least another 20 years, I wouldn’t have known what to say. The prog rock collective was considered a dinosaur act even then, but this was before my 13-year-old brain could completely comprehend the strange revolving door that was the band’s personnel. I used to be able to count how many guys had been in and out of the fold, but I lost track somewhere around fourteen. So, whenever a new studio album from Yes hits the market, most fans are just wondering who is handling the keyboard duties. I’ll go ahead and tell you right now that for Fly From Here, it’s Geoff Downes.

But there’s much more to the story. This is Yes’ first album in ten years and their first one without vocalist Jon Anderson since 1980. Anderson suffered a series of asthma attacks in 2008 and the band’s 40th anniversary tour was put on hold. Over time, Anderson grew apart from the rest of the band since he wanted to rest and the other guys really wanted to tour. Enter Canadian singer Benoît David who had fronted the Yes tribute band Close to the Edge for a number of years. With Anderson out of the picture and an anniversary to commemorate, Yes decided the next best thing to actually having their original lead vocalist was to have a sound-alike. David was even dressing like Anderson at this point, with bright colored vests and loose sleeves. Keyboardist Rick Wakeman, who had quit the band for the fifth time (I think), was actually replaced by his son Oliver. But as the touring band set their sights to recording, things get fuzzy. Oliver Wakeman was “dismissed” though some of his work for Yes’ latest album survived the mixing process. But there’s even more to the story: the Buggles.

Trevor Horn and Geoff Downes, authors of the Buggles’ hit “Video Killed the Radio Star”, were quite the Yes fans. So much so that in 1980 they offered an original song to them called “We Can Fly From Here”. Jon Anderson and Rick Wakeman had just walked away from the band and before Horn and Downes knew it, they were their respective replacements. This was a lineup shakeup that many fans couldn’t swallow, and the resulting album Drama became one of the thorniest subjects of their discography. As good as Drama was, some people simply did not want to see Yes continue on without Jon Anderson. Yes quickly dissolved and the song “We Can Fly From Here”, though performed at a handful of shows, was forgotten about. But with Downes now back on keyboards and Horn in the producer’s chair, bassist Chris Squire, guitarist Steve Howe and drummer Alan White decided to resurrect the song in hopes of breathing new life into the beast that is Yes for the new decade.

So if the multi-movement title track sounds like it’s rooted in the Drama/Asia era of carefully aligned arena rock, that’s because is. The 23-minute piece’s overture has a steady rise and fall not unlike Drama‘s opener “Machine Messiah”, making sure that every note and lyric serves its scene-setting purpose. There’s something about this carefully-measured approach to writing extended progressive rock, one that flies in the face of the more organically-minded elastic forms of Tales from Topographic Oceans and Relayer, that feels slightly stifling. Then again, Yes hasn’t had an album of new material since 2001’s Magnification and this formulaic approach helps Horn and the band to retain their core sound, right down to Squire’s fat thuds and Howe’s stratospheric slides. And if Benoît David isn’t a dead-ringer for Jon Anderson, he’s very close. It certainly helps that the optimistic platitudes found in the lyrics faintly mirror the Anderson poetry of old, even if it comes in a more generic form: “Every day that you waste is once more that you’ve lost,” “Turn yourself around / turn your life around / turn your world around / turn this ship around” and “I want to be the one / who always gives you shelter.” Tolstoy in motion, it is not. Yes’ extended works always promise to be more than a string of unrelated ideas, but just know that this isn’t the “Gates of Delirium.”

The second half of Fly From Here is tame and unassuming by comparison. Howe’s distorted power chords and White’s tricky meters largely go into hiding on tracks like “The Man You Always Wanted Me to Be” and “Hour of Need”, the former featuring Chris Squire on lead vocals during the verses. These songs are representative of Yes’ purgatory state, one that flirts with concise pop forms but is afraid to fully commit to them. Squire’s vocal delivery obviously comes from a personal place whereas Howe’s lyrics for “Hour of Need” are cynicism without a target—ends justifying means, mouths to feed, so on, and check, please. Fly From Here also marks one of the first Howe solo tracks to be used on a Yes album since 1991’s Union. “Solitaire” (get it?) starts with andante Travis-picking, like a slowed-down “The Valley of the Rocks,” and spontaneously moves into classical territory a la “Mood for a Day.” Disjointed nature aside, it is a fine piece of nylon plucking that ranks alongside his other solo compositions.

“Life on a Film Set” is another long-lost Horn/Downes tune that never got past the demo stage of the second Buggles album. Though it probably wasn’t written with Yes in mind, it seems to fit the Squire/Howe/White approach like a glove even if the song isn’t impressively memorable. It’s with the closer “Into the Storm” that Yes sounds the most surefooted and perked. Steve Howe and whoever is playing keyboards (Oliver Wakeman holds partial copyright credit here) match on a theme centered on a broken chord, one that gives the song drive and the album some much-needed momentum. As far as the lyrics go, you can say that humility has finally arrived to Yes: “One thing I learned from all these years / as stupid now as we were at first / maybe that’s the way it goes / when you try to change the world.”

Fly From Here is not a disaster. It has too much enthusiasm for itself to sink like some of Yes’ more embarrassing transitional albums. At the same time, it’s overall less tuneful than The Ladder or Magnification and less moody and compelling than their ‘70s work. But most of you probably knew that before hearing a note of Fly From Here (such is what you come to expect when you follow a band for this long), so the real question is: does this lineup of Yes have potential? They do. Will they someday fully tap into it? Your guess is as good as mine.

Rating: [6/10]

John Garratt - 13 July 2011
© 1999-2015 Popmatters.com



Fly from Here is the twentieth studio album from the English progressive rock band Yes. Yes' first studio album since Magnification (2001), it is also the only one to feature Canadian singer Benoît David, and only the second album (after 1980's Drama) without former singer Jon Anderson and with keyboardist Geoff Downes. The line-up is David, Downes, bassist Chris Squire, guitarist Steve Howe and drummer Alan White. The album was produced by Trevor Horn, who was the singer on Drama, and who had previously produced 90125 (1983) and initially Big Generator (1987).

The album takes its name from its main work, "Fly from Here", a 24-minute composition split up into six songs. The basis of the hexalogy was a demo originally recorded by Downes and Horn of The Buggles before they joined Yes in 1980. After Yes disbanded in 1981, Horn and Downes recorded a second demo, and both recordings became the foundation of the tracks "We Can Fly" and "Sad Night at the Airfield".

Fly from Here was first released on 22 June 2011 in Japan and France, followed by releases on 1 July in the rest of Europe and Australia and on 12 July in the United States. It peaked at number 30 on the UK Albums Chart, and number 36 on the US Billboard 200.

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