PERHAPS & DAMO SUZUKI

When bassist Jim Haney contacted me to let me know that Perhaps had a new album out, I quickly went over to their Bandcamp site to grab it. But, when I got there I saw not only their new album but also this release which also involves Damo Suzuki. It is only in the last three or four years that I have started listening to Can, and can't believe that I somehow managed to avoid them before. Needless to say I grabbed this as well, and I am so glad that I did. This was the first time that Perhaps had performed with a singer, not surprising given the nature of their music, but Damo slotted right in as if this was actually his band. There is a power and dominance to this 23 minute improvised piece of music which is quite inspiring. It may not be easy music to listen to, but it is incredibly compelling and something that the discerning listener (i.e. the ones who won't say that this is a noise and a load of rubbish before spending the time to get inside it) will get a great deal from.

Oh yes, it's free as well. So if you are a fan of Can, Perhaps, or improvised music in general, this is something to savour. www.perhaps.bandcamp.com

After releasing two EPs of sometimes thrilling retro-modern psychedelic jamming, the young Boston trio Perhaps made a significant move to further cement their credentials by collaborating with Krautrock icon Damo Suzuki, offering a sample of the results as a digital freebie on their bandcamp website.

It's a concert recording (with some studio overdubs), obviously improvised on the spot, and showing an unsurprising connection to the 'instant compositions' of live CAN circa 1971, thanks in part to the intuitive caterwauling of Suzuki, as always more an eccentric vocal artist than a polished singer. Here he seems to have been grooving to a melody that existed in his head alone, while the band attempted to follow his brainwave mumbling with not altogether cohesive results.

A real spiritual kinship exists between the musicians. But that bond doesn't stretch very far over the entire, unbroken 23-minutes of music, and there are times when Suzuki and his hosts don't even seem to be playing in the same room together. Improvised music, no matter how freeform, needs to follow some sort of internal logic, even if it's audible only to the participants. Despite an occasional flash of synchronicity between the players, their collective muse was occupied elsewhere for much of this performance.

But the recording was never intended as anything more than a throwaway gift to fans, with no strings attached. And apparently only for a limited time: the link on the band's web page is now gone. No one can say the price wasn't fair, however. And we can only hope other (and better) concert tapes surface before too long. Any musical group willing to take such chances deserves our applause and support.