Record #808: Can – Tago Mago (1971)

Few musical movements are as weird, wonderful, and influential as Krautrock, a collection of West German bands in the 1970s that pushed the boundaries of what music could actually do to its extremes. The movement had an incredible influence on post punk, progressive rock, new age, shoegaze, and the birth of post rock. The shape of modern, electronic leaning pop music can be traced back to Krautrock, specifically the synthpop pioneers Kraftwerk.

But perhaps no band in Krautrock was more influential than Cologne’s Can, whose sprawling jazz-and-funk jams, improvised vocals, psychedelic exploration, tape editing techniques, and ambient experimentation went on to define Krautrock and influence everyone from David Bowie to Radiohead to Joy Division to the Flaming Lips to Kanye West.

Among their monstrous catalog (they recorded ten albums between 1969 and 1979), most fans and critics agree that the pinnacle of their career was the trilogy of records featuring vocalist Damo Suzuki, which includes the criminally underrated Future Daysthe seminal Ege Bamyasiand this, the eldritch, immense Tago Mago.

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Record #321: Can – Ege Bamyasi (1972)

ege bamyasi

The last time I wrote about Can, I worried if the internet could handle anymore of its finite data being used to write about the legendary Krautrock pioneers.
Because friends, there have been terrabytes written on their importance and influence.
​The lion’s share of that code is occupied with musings on this album.
Ege Bamyasi is, with no room for debate, Can’s most long-reaching record. It found the group tightening their free-form, chaotic noodling into slicker, more sophisticated arrangements. While they would perfect this approach on their next album, Future Days (my personal favorite), Ege Bamyasi is absolutely unparalleled in its cultural importance. It’s been covered by Stephen Malkmus and Beck, sampled by Kanye West, and offered Spoon their band name. And it’s not for no reason: the songs contained on this disc are incredible. Pinch creeps darkly across a hardbop shuffle. Sing Swan Song is as morose and soothing a ballad the group ever wrote. One More Night writes Stereolab a love letter twenty years in advance. Vitamin C shivers with manic energy. Soup rocks and rolls heavier with a tempo that accelerates until it crashes into whooshing and whirling tape effects and formless improvisation. I’m So Green is as far from that as you can get–a simple, short, happy pop song (remember: Beck covered it). Spoon is a nocturnal, half-asleep chant set to a slow samba. Every minute of this record is brilliant, and it is deserving of its crown as King of the Krautrock Albums.