CAN

Well, as most innovators would tell you, you first need to experiment and fail (and fail big) before you can truly innovate. CAN did this (experiment and fail) pretty big with parts of Tago Mago and Ege Bamyasi. But they came back to make this truly wonderful album, Future Times. This album contains many of the same approaches and sounds (including Suzuki's mumbling) that are found on their previous albums. However, for some reason they were able to get the best out of these here, while avoiding the worst of those previous failures. I can only surmise that they learned from those mistakes, and sought this time to make real music. This is, to my mind, the pinnacle of their catalogue, their one shining contribution to the world of music. And it is very musical, all the way through. The album is full of contradictions, but it works and flows together very well. Words I would use include gentle, obtuse, mature, cutting edge, grooving, diverse, noisy (in terms of having lots of new types of noises present), smooth, artful, rolling. There is a feel-good vibe that permeates this album, which I don't find on other CAN albums. It is the only CAN album that I still listen to on any regular basis. How wonderful? I can see why some reviewers might rate this as 5 stars, as it comes close to being essential (and for Krautrock fans, I think one would have to find this essential). In comparison to all other albums, I rate it 8.5 out of 10, which places it as 4 PA stars. Their best album.

Whereas 'Tago Mago' involved extremes - a mix of great and horrible - 'Ege Bamyasi' fails in a different way. It is simply boring. The best track on the album is one they hadn't even intended for it, but which commercial success (as the background theme for a German TV show) forced onto the album - the excellent "Spoon". This track is, to me, the very best among CAN's entire discography (even better than Tago Mago's "Halleluwah"). It is highly unique, very innovative, and highly memorable, but unfortunately only three minutes long. There are only two other tracks that are even listenable on this album: "Sing Swan Song" and "One More Night". Like on Tago Mago and Future Times which would follow, Damo Suzuki is mostly mumbling his way through these songs, and in some cases (like on Aumgn on Tago Mago) he simply ruins them. But the real problem with Ege Bamyasi is that, unlike the shear nerve exhibited on Tago Mago, 'innovation' here seems to just mean un-musical noodling. While I can somewhat understand the reputation that Tago Mago has (since it has Halleluwah, such a great groove), I don't understand why Ege Bamyasi is held up as one of CAN's better albums. Not only is it boring, but because of the too-frequent off-putting singing or other noises, it is not even sleep-inducing. With only three decent tracks, which make up roughly 30 percent of the album (in terms of minutes), I give this album 3 out of 10 on my 10-point scale. 2 PA stars.

Right up there in the "I would have loved to hear what the record company execs were thinking when they heard this one" category, Tago Mago deserves some credit for...well, not innovation per se, perhaps nerve or hubris? Rarely has such a non-commercial recording (I was going to call this a 'non-commercial set of music' but 'recording' is the more accurate term) been released to (on) the public. Containing both some decent grooves (for which CAN, and Krautrock, would become well known), but also some of the worst noise ever put to record, Tago Mago is not for the uninitiated. But it was out of the ashes of the failures here on Tago Mago (and Ege Bamyasi) that CAN would eventually make one great album (the wonderful 'Future Times'). A double-album, the first half of Tago Mago contains almost everything here that might fall under the category of 'music'. The side-long "Halleluhwah" is the best, most inspired. Created from many feet (hours?) of taped jams, it reveals a deep groove for which this album is probably best known. Indeed, in terms of innovation and musicality, it is the drumming that stands out for me, and this extended track is one of the best examples. The other tunes on the first side are also sufficiently decent - "Paperhouse", "Mushroom" and "Oh Yeah" - although not at the same level as Halleluhwah. The second half of the album, however, is another story. Among the first of the CAN albums to feature then-new vocalist Damo Suzuki, they allowed him to make what I can only describe as monkey noises all over side c (the aptly titled "Aumgn"), which dare I say completely ruins any remaining musicality that this side might have (even though it is all just musique concrete - noises made with found objects and echo pedals). "Aumgn" is particularly notable not just in relation to the other albums here on PA but also recorded music in general, as I cannot think of any recording ('song' is not the right word) that is more difficult to listen to, with less musicality, EVER (even on those old test pressings of non-musical soundscapes, like the ones where they sample jet engines and the like). Truly, truly awful noise. Such a failure. I have been in some iffy situations (as a kid, etc) that looking back I wish I had not got myself into. But those 17 minutes of Aumgn are among the ones in my life I wish that I could take back most. On my 10-point scale, 0 would typically refer to a complete waste of time, something with no musicality at all. Well, Aumgn is the only 'recording' I could consider giving a negative rating to! Side D is not very musical either ("Peking-O" and "Bring Me Coffee or Tea") but it is no-where near as bad as Aumgn. Side d might get 1.8 out of 10. This might be contrasted with a 5.9 out of 10 for side a, and an 8 out of 10 for side b (Halleluhwah). Taken together, a 'notable' (nervy) album, but one that only averages out to about 3.5 out of 10 in terms of musicality, which translates to 2 PA stars. Be forwarned.

Can were true innovators, but like many innovators did so more through failure than success. This album, their first, is one of the more successful, ironically, perhaps because they were not yet pushing too hard on the boundaries as they did on later albums. The only CAN album to feature Malcolm Mooney (an American who would leave the band shortly after), this album sounds like a drugged-out psychedelic but also bluesy jam session, with Mooney repeating many lines over and over. While various sections are more musical than others, the whole comes together sufficiently well to recommend listening to this all the way through. I am not sure how many times one might want to do this, but the album contains a certain amount of charm and guts, and for me stands above a number of later CAN albums. Basically, it is sufficiently musical all the way through despite its (and CAN's) oddities. But I don't rank it highly. I give it 5.6 out of 10 on my 10-point scale, which is lower 3 PA stars.

The remixes are quite different regarding how much of the original track was kept and how much they're dominated by it. In A Guy Called Gerald's Tango Whiskeyman one need to look hard for traces of the original, whereas for example Sunroof's Oh Yeah follows the concept of the original quite closely.

I have always enjoyed this double-CD big time, from start to finish, despite the presence of some weaker pieces or at least some pieces that in itself don't tell me that much. Surely there is enough strong material here, although it definitely helps if nineties techno music doesn't make you run away screaming for mercy. Many of the remixes are dominated by heavy rhythms, some pretty dancefloor-proof, split up between sampling and looping the mighty man machine Jaki Liebezeit (RIP), making him even more machine-like, and some techno rhythms created by the remixers themselves. The use of samples and sounds is generally inspired by how the masters themselves did it with material from other sources, and consequently the Can members have enjoyed this collection, too, as far as I know (except Damo, who in the booklet is just cited saying that this is "not his cup of tea").

Overall, despite its dancefloor credentials, this is quite experimental and playful and not always an easy ride. Also in this respect, the collection is varied; 3P's Yoo Doo Right could have been hit single material, so smooth and nice to the ears it is, whereas Hiller/Kaiser/Leda's Unfinished and Bruce Gilbert's TV Sport are rather noise avantgarde, although at least the former treats the listener to some rhythm toward the end. A number of pieces are generous with the rhythm but more modest with melody and harmony (i.e., Father Cannot Yell by Pete Shelley); but melody and harmony aren't necessarily what the Can fan is looking for.

I could nominate quite a number of these as highlights; by and large more of them are on the second CD. The already mentioned Unfinished and Father Cannot Yell are bold and adventurous and pretty autonomous constructions. I also love the addictive underground dance orgy that System 7 (that's Hillage and Giraudy formerly of Gong) made of Dizzy Spoon; these prog veterans surely know how to produce an attractive techno rhythm.

Surely part of the listener's joy comes from looking for and recognising their Can favourites; U.N.C.L.E.'s Vitamin C and both remixes of Oh Yeah make heavy enough use of the original material that they are basically failproof (still there is enough artistic freedom in them to justify their existence in the face of the original) and of course I can listen day in day out to Jaki's drumming, even looping him does not hurt him much. There's a case though for not attributing all the quality that can be found here to the remix collection, a good deal is of course claimed by the originals.

I am really in love with the whole concept and how it plays out, and also some of the highlights. It would be a far stretch to call this "a masterpiece of progressive rock", firstly because it is a far stretch to call this "progressive rock" at all and secondly because this kind of project can of course never reach a sufficiently monolithic experience and everyone can certainly find the odd low point here. Never mind, personally I am fascinated and delighted from start to finish, and so I give it four stars and feel rather stingy.

In retrospect it wasn't an ideal introduction, and I wouldn't recommend it as such to anyone else. Can had been treading water for several years at that point, drifting a little too far from their more exploratory Krautrock roots after signing to Virgin Records in 1975. But this self-titled album (only later re-christened "Inner Space", the name of their home studio) at least marked a rehabilitation of sorts, sounding like a breath of fresh air compared to the uninspired doodling of their previous "Out of Reach" (the two albums were subsequently combined and sold on a single CD, a decent bargain for Can completists with money to burn).

First the good news: Holger Czukay, the band's irrepressible radio wave surfer and occasional bass guitarist, was back in the fold, although he doesn't actually touch a musical instrument here (this throwaway CD re-issue doesn't even mention it, but on the original vinyl he was listed as an "editor"). You can still detect his presence, however, not least on the oddball interlude "Ping Pong", believe it or not one of the highlights of the album.

This is pure Czukay: a 20-second (or so) audio-verité documentary of, you guessed it, a game of ping-pong, rather sloppily played while someone thumbs a kalimba in the background. Czukay's deadpan sense of humor also animates the faux-punk demolition of Offenbach's "Can-Can", an obvious choice for the band's periodic "Ethnological Forgery Series" of cultural facsimiles, and the best musical joke of its kind since Thijs Van Leer yodeled his way through "Hocus Pocus".

It was probably this track, and its ragged epilogue "Can Be", that sold my unrefined ears on the album in the first place, in much the same way that ELP's energetic update of Aaron Copeland's "Hoedown" jump-started my earliest interest in Prog Rock years before. "Can-Can", by the way, is listed as EFS #99, one of only a handful in the ongoing series to appear throughout the band's history. So where are all the rest?

The balance of the album is built on impeccably played but undemanding dance music for people (like me) with two left feet. "All Gates Open" is the best of the lot, with a sinuous subterranean groove, some funky chunky guitar, and a shifting wall of keyboard noise, always a Can specialty. But the other tracks tend to follow the example set by "Sunday Jam", a pleasant enough diversion with an all-too literal title, and like a lot of later Can music notably a jam, unlike the more challenging "instant composition" improvs of their earlier years.

In all, not the best swan song for such a groundbreaking and influential band (and a premature ending anyway: see 1989's more improved "Rite Time"), but in the context of their late '70s downward career arc a much better effort than could have been expected.

Via the first two "Future Days" and "Spray", we can hear slight Krautrock essence really ... some bubbled vibes or distorted sound interplay, repetitive hypnotic bottom line, complicated rhythmic basis ... every tonic phenomenon can express their essential Krautrock initiative. On the other hand, some artistic sound unification we cannot avoid. Yes so refined and so polished enough to confuse us. The shortest track "Moonshake" is filled with ethnic beats and heartwarming melodies. Damo's danceable percussive voices remind us of oldie goodie German psychedelia. Ermm, afraid we could not make our mind and feeling clearer and finally would rush into the last music courtesy.

Regardless of above mentioned, however, "Bel Air" should be called as their masterpiece without any suspicion. Upon synthesizer-based slow and smooth waterflow, dry and fruity guitar chops plus light drumming of comfort slip through. Damo's inspired and a tad philosophical voices can be hear like the last tragic phrases before the giant flies away. Inevitably wondering where such a mad hippie like Damo went for. Their performance upon this track might be not strict not harmonized in perfect manner (especially Damo's voices sound like an octopus sorry), but the gem merged, crystallized, and constructed with every talented play should get apotheosed really. 20 minutes? Very short for us. Time must not be absolute, I would say.

In conclusion, well understood what a lonely crazy guy pissing over the rainbow shouted. Not attractive as Krautrock but every progressive rock fan loves this creation. And my favourite one. That's the truth.

Haha, why on earth am I starting here reviewing Can? Because I like to write things that are not already in lots of other peoples' reviews. Nobody has reviewed this single yet so I do it. I like the band anyway, despite this being forgettable.

I mean, get this, this is the record in which Can, deficient of Damo's vitamin c though they are, manage to pip the ska-punks and practically invent trance.

Do I have your attention?

The gist of "Soon Over Babaluma" is that the band built off of "Future Days"'s ethereal soundscapes by essentially reunifying them with the grooviness of "Ege Bamyasi", if not in a necessarily immediately recognisable form. Rather than achieve most of that funk with Liebezeit's drums, as the band had usually done, he continues to drum mostly in the vein of "Future Days" while instead Karoli's guitar and violin and especially Schmidt's keys abide by the groove. The results? Ambient house and ambient techno have to owe backrent to this LP. "Dizzy Dizzy" manages to get a violin to jam right out of the gate. "Come Sta, La Luna" sounds like an angelic flamenco band engaging in ska and dub revival. "Splash" and "Quantum Physics" are just plain mind blowing. And then there's "Chain Reaction", as outstanding as the tracks directly surrounding it, but here, in the interplay between Schmidt and Liebezeit, is the spark that birthed trance music. We expected nothing less of The Can, now didn't we? Even Karoli and Schmidt's vocals are up to task. This is the dress rehearsal for "The Orb's Adventures Beyond The Ultraworld", nothing less, probably something more on top of that. Again, truly outstanding.

On Future Days the sound of Can was at its fullest reach creating music that's like a living, breathing organism. I guess this is my favourite era of Can and this album always places me within a sun-kissed Idyll, a Balearic arbour, the music dancing like sunlight on surf. Future Days forever, on and on.