Can were one of the greatest bands to come out of Germany in the seventies. Their music has influenced everyone from David Bowie to Joy Division

In 1971 Irmin Schmidt, Holgar Czukay, Jaki Liebezeit, Michael Karoli and Damo Suzuki went into Inner Space Studio and cut one of the greatest albums of all time. Never mind the fact that Tago Mago has been the bedrock for all indie bands since. Disregard the notion that the album pointed towards post-rock, post-punk and electronic music. The knowledge that Tago Mago, and subsequent Can releases, had a hand in inspiring such artists as Bowie, Eno and Joy Division should not overshadow the fact that the album itself stands as a monumental musical achievement.

History

Formed by classically trained pianist Irmin Schmidt and bassist Holgar Czukay, Can were the defining “Krautrock” group of the seventies. Along with their peers on the German rock scene (Faust, Neu, Ash Ra Tempel etc), Can pioneered the use of electronica in music. They constructed albums from long improvised jams, meticiously editing and rediting the best bits from these into workable tracks (a method used by Miles Davis when recording his album Bitches Brew).

The diversity of Can’s music was built on solid musicianship. All of the band had pedigree. Both Schmidt and Czukay were pupils of the great Karl Heinz Stockhausen. Guitarist Michael Karoli had similarly studied under Czukay. Drummer Jaki Liebezeit had a grounding in jazz and had played with Chet Baker. Added to this group of highly schooled musicians was the vocal talents of Japanese singer Kenji "Damo" Suzuki, who was famously spotted by Czukay and Liebeziet busking on the street in Munich.

Tago Mago was well ahead of its time in 1971 and has aged considerably well. It still sounds as vital and poignant as it must have done 30 years ago, and the album stands head and shoulders over the output of some of today’s modern rock bands.

Tago Mago

Any rock album worth is salt is built around solid drumming, and Jaki Liebezeit’s work on Tago Mago is nothing short of heroic. His unrelenting hypotic rhythums hold up all of the tracks on the album. Even though things begin relatively slowly with album opener “Paperhouse” swaying drunkenly for the first few minutes until Liebezeit takes over. The incessant beat grows louder and louder, Damo Suzuki's vocals move from a whisper to a scream, and Michael Karoli’s guitar solo rings clear over the glorious frenetic mess.

From this brilliant beginning the album gets even better. "Mushroom", laden with gunshot breakbeats and eerie keyboards has a spectral quality, with Suzuki’s indecipherable vocals describing either a bad trip or a nuclear holocaust. It is a simple yet effective manifestation of the darker elements which imbue Can’s work.

The sound of an atomic detonation brings “Mushroom” to a close, but emerging from the destruction comes another metronomic drumbeat (if there is one man you could bet on trying to drum his way through a nuclear apocalypse it would be Jake Liebezeit) and bass line ushering in the truly brilliant “Oh Yeah”. With Damo’s backward singing and Schmidt supplying swathes of synth the track builds until the rhythm section cuts out leaving only the synth to weave heady blankets of sound, before the beat suddenly reappears and Karoli’s guitar takes the track into a cosmic jam.

The next three tracks are enormous sonic explorations, the shortest clocking in at 11 mins. “Halleluhwah” is the first of these and weighs in with a healthy 18 mins of psychedelic funk. Again a furious breakbeat grounds the track, but is coupled with James Brown-esque guitar scratches before the synth and electronic squeals haul its heaving bulk into the stratosphere. Suzuki is again on form, barking/singing/chanting the title whilst digressing to talk about mushrooms and paper houses.

“Aumgn” and “Peking O” are the two highly experimental soundscapes to be found on the album, showing the band leaning more towards the avant guarde. The former is an amalgam of dissonant synthesised sounds and electronic noises. The multi-layed textures are technically impressive though disturbingly claustrophobic, and at times “Aumgn” teeters on the brink of insanity. Compared to it “Peking O” seems quite sane, even though it contains Suzuki howling and screaming over a synthesised drum beat.

After these physically draining pieces, Can close with “Bring me Coffee or Tea”, although in truth you’d probably need something a little stronger after sitting through the last two tracks. It is a tune filled with introspection, confusion and paranoia, with each of the members seemingly going off to exploring their own sonic avenues. However the band were so bloody good that it holds together, bringing a parity and resolution to the music that went before it. It closes an album which should be acknowledged as one of the greatest ever made.