Tago Mago

After numerous encounters with classic rock-era music enthusiasts, I became very jaded towards their general shared “been there, done that” disposition. How could these guys (most of whom are around my dad’s age) love music so much, yet have next to zero interest in current artists and albums? I quickly promised myself to never stop checking for new artists, albums and sounds. Call it young, naive longing. 

Often cited as a primary influence on many of my favorite bands, Can first began releasing albums in 1969 and quickly became known alongside Faust as the godfathers of krautrock. Their recently reissued catalog has since become the chic accessory to college-town Jettas all over the country. With this review, me and my station wagon are here to jump on the band ... er ... wagon.

Upon acquainting myself with the German outfit’s third album, 1971’s Tago Mago, Ifound myself going through numerous personal trials. How could an album (or band) this good slip under my radar until age 25? Certainly 2004 wasn’t the best year for music, but I never dreamt that my prized purchase of the year would come from a long-form 70s pre-post-prog band from Germany. While it certainly has it’s own temper, it’s hard to see how Tago Mago isn’t mentioned alongside such cliched, time-honored albums as Dark Side of the Moon and In the Court of the Crimson King, two similarly hankering recordings from the same era.

And then it finally hit me: there were just that many groundbreaking things going on in the music world from 1968-1972. It took my discovering of Can to realize that the “old guys” I referenced earlier just might be onto something with their high standards. Many of the new, exciting sounds that were developing in the late 60s and early 70s are to me, a young listener, little more than cool album artwork, good songs and a few hyperbolized stories. While I can’t possibly imagine what it was like hearing Sgt. Peppers when it first came out, Tago Mago‘s unexpected greatness has provided me with a slice of insight into why current music might seem so faint to a 70s music aficionado.

I remember reading an interview with Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy a few years back that portrayed him as a newfound Can devotee. Tweedy claimed that they changed his approach to music. Soon after came Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and A Ghost is Born. Can’s blend of electronics, prog-rock and free jazz might not register with everyone, but for those who do pick up on it, their sound is that influential. Old guys, consider yourselves lucky.

Easily Can’s most prodigious recording from their classic period, the band experimented with recording and post production techniques similar to Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew album, changing long, otherwise jammy songs into massive free form epics. Also similar to Davis’ masterwork, Tago Mago has aged wonderfully, likely sounding more modern and pertinent amongst today’s musical trends than upon it’s release. Singer Damo Suzuki’s disconnected vocals on the oddly accessible “Paperhouse” could be seen as a blueprint for many of today’s experimental indie-pop artists. The commodious “Aumgn” alone likely spawned 10 bands with its frantic, no-rules approach to scoring.

“Mushroom” and “Oh Yeah” augment the energy “Paperhouse” builds with their similarly approachable sound before getting to the album’s highlight, (and possibly song of any given listeners lifetime), “Halleluhwah.” I haven’t “heard it all,” but in an unknown context it’s safe to say that “Halleluhwah” stands as one of the most exciting, interesting and satisfying 18 minutes I’ve found on record to date. With it’s loopy rhythms and never-ending barrel of sound designs, Can define the forward thinking spirit of the short-lived krautrock genre in one beautifully exasperating composition.

So the real question is, at what point does one’s musical appetite top out? Does everyone reach a point where they’d rather track down bootlegs from their favorite artists than look for a new band to get into? I still don’t believe that anyone has heard it all; and luckily, I have the late, great John Peel most famously echoing those sentiments. If Peel can hang out with Touch in 1970 and Anticon in 2004, I can surely keep my yearning unchecked. If nothing else, Tago Mago has taught me that the kids are getting there; it’s the “old guys” who are alright, some of them anyhow.     10/10

Written by G. William Locke