Released in 1971 as a double album, Tago Mago is the second studio album by German experimental rock band Can.
Perhaps AllMusic describes it best:
With the band in full artistic flower and Suzuki's sometimes moody, sometimes frenetic speak/sing/shrieking in full effect, Can released not merely one of the best Krautrock albums of all time, but one of the best albums ever, period. Tago Mago is that rarity of the early '70s, a double album without a wasted note, ranging from sweetly gentle float to full-on monster grooves. "Paperhouse" starts things brilliantly, beginning with a low-key chime and beat, before amping up into a rumbling roll in the midsection, then calming down again before one last blast. Both "Mushroom" and "Oh Yeah," the latter with Schmidt filling out the quicker pace with nicely spooky keyboards, continue the fine vibe. After that, though, come the huge highlights -- three long examples of Can at its absolute best. "Halleluwah" -- featuring the Liebezeit/Czukay rhythm section pounding out a monster trance/funk beat; Karoli's and Schmidt's always impressive fills and leads; and Suzuki's slow-building ranting above everything -- is 19 minutes of pure genius. The near-rhythmless flow of "Aumgn" is equally mind-blowing, with swaths of sound from all the members floating from speaker to speaker in an ever-evolving wash, leading up to a final jam. "Peking O" continues that same sort of feeling, but with a touch more focus, throwing in everything from Chinese-inspired melodies and jazzy piano breaks to cheap organ rhythm boxes and near babbling from Suzuki along the way. "Bring Me Coffee or Tea" wraps things up as a fine, fun little coda to a landmark record.Tago Mago has been cited as an influence by everybody from Radiohead to John Lydon to Primal Scream to the Jesus and Mary Chain to the Flaming Lips. (Spoon is even named after a Can song!) And according to the sometimes reliable Wikipedia, Tago Mago is included in a book called 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die.
So won't you open your minds and Feel The Presence of Can?
10 comments:
Weeeird.
I would have to agree. It gets to be a bit much for me around "Aumgn" and "Peking O," but the other five songs I'm liking.
Maybe this deserves its own post, but I'll throw it out anyway. Is it genius - or even redeemable art - if you create something that nobody has heard before, if it doesn't fit within the boundaries of accepted standards? I guess I'm thinking specifically of Lou Reed's Metal Machine Music or even John Coltrane's Ascension, but I think the shoe fits here, too.
Anybody?
Neil Young had one of those types of albums (Trans, maybe?) that at the time was pooped all over, but now is loved by obscurites the world over. I think it's mostly drugs and self-indulgence, which is fine -- just don't ask me to pay for it. I've never heard MMM, but supposedly there was a symphony in Europe that did the whole album. Mostly it depends on the artist, and whether they're just pushing knobs and throwing shit out there, or if they're really doing the stuff for a reason.
The pretentious art school fuck in me wants to say, I think the genius in art is reflected in the expression, independent of the reception. But is it redeemable art if it's outside accepted standards, is it worth anyone's time and effort?
Maybe only if it's close enough to accepted standards to force a redefinition of those standards to include itself does it matter. And if it does that (Ulysses, Manet, Nirvana) then maybe there's no higher art form. If it does not do that, it's usually some seriously annoying shit. But I could be totally wrong about all that.
Can we go back to talking about New Zealand rodents now?
Can is like me trying to eat crawfish; some really tasty meat in there, but it's a lot of work to find. (Dave can teach me the proper way to eat crawfish at BastardCon in New Orleans. If he still likes me.)
XOXO Mikey. I believe that art has more to do with the person receiving the art as opposed to the one presenting or creating it. It doesn't matter what Raymond Carver 'meant' when he wrote his short stories, its what we readers take from it that counts.
should call this post "open a can of whoop ass". i checked these guys out for the first time a few months ago. monshake is on another album but is pretty good. Schnell!!!!
Or maybe creating and perceiving art serve different functions. What do you say to that, matt mcgee?
Thanks for stopping by, Matt! I guess I should explain to all concerned that Matt is my brother-in-law, not a random lurker.
Check his blog here. (I'm adding you to my RSS feeds, by the way.)
Okay, back on topic now. All worthy points, guys. Maybe intent is the key; one established argument is that Lou Reed was really trying to say something with MMM, another is that he was just fucking with his label. (I've heard it, and I lean toward the latter.) But at the same time, I understand what Dave means about the importance of the perception of art.
I like the idea that stretching what's acceptable is the ultimate artistic aspiration. Isn't that what "ahead of their time" really means?
Maybe my issue is more with calling something genuis. How is that determined?! Referencing the AllMusic review, is atonal gibberish sprinkled over 20 minutes of chaotic noise genius? I'm guessing Dave would say that depends on what the listener takes from it, but I'm having a hard time separating intent from translation. What if the artist accidentally created something - or created something as a joke - that was later interpreted as genius? What if Lou Reed really did create MMM as a joke, and it was later performed - note for note - by a European symphony?
Does that make the artist a genius?
My brain hurts ...
Welcome matt mcgee!
Interesting thoughts on "genius." When Confederacy of Dunces was finally published, was that when Toole became a genius, or was that when his genius was discovered?
I agree with Dave that the intent of the artist is irrelevant to the art itself. (Formalist school of criticism. Just think, if we'd thought of it first we could've named it whatever we wanted!)
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