The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band - 1967 - Part One

Quality: 3 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 3.5 out of 5

Despite the fantastic psychedelic cover, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band's Part One is a pretty average piece of psychedelia. The core of the band consisted of some competent L.A. musicians locked in a faustian deal with rich boy, Bob Markley. Bob had the practice space, equipment, and some strings to pull, but he unfortunately didn't have a whole lot of talent. With the chips in hand, he pushed himself to the forefront of this band, and the tracks featuring Markley do have an Ed Wood sort of charm.

Although the band claims to be experiental, most of this adheres pretty closely to basic rock and pop templates circa 1967. They do try some strange interludes and studio effects here and there, but often seem to be screaming "Look! We're being experimental!" at the same time. This is most apparent on their cover of Frank Zappa's "Help, I'm A Rock." It's just not very convincing.

The songwriting chops here aren't particularly impressive, but at least the lyrics get some points in the "incredibly strange music" department. "1906" is a story of the San Francisco earthquake through the eyes of a dog, while "Will You Walk With Me" practically sounds like a recruitment song for the Manson family. Otherwise we're stuck with somewhat amusing psychedelic cliches such as on the still-enjoyable "Transparent Day." I don't think these guys hit on any innovative original melodies. Alas, "Leiyla" is an uninspired psych take on the Bo Diddley beat (with Markley pointlessly growling), and they manage to make "Shifting Sands" sound a little too much like "House Of The Rising Sun."

To the band's credit, they do make some smart cover choices. Even if "Help, I'm A Rock" isn't particularly successful, a Zappa cover is still a relatively rare event. They serve up a nice sparkling version of P.F. Sloan's "Here's Where You Belong" with some great electric 12-string is is the high point of the album. Plus, they tackle a Van Dyke Parks song before the release of Song Cycle, which shows some precient thought.

The bonus tracks inclede mono single mixes of "Help, I'm A Dog" and "Transparent Day." The former is annoyingly edited, but the latter sparkles a lot more in it's compressed mix and sounds much more immediate than the album version.

Buy Me:
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band - 1967 - Part One

Bill Holt - 1974 - Dreamies

Quality: 4 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 4.5 out of 5

Bill Holt's Dreamies is a strange creature indeed, created without any real hope for an audience and flush with experimentation. The story here is that Holt was a 9-to-5 salaryman who simply snapped a little and used this as his escape valve somewhere in the suburbs of Philadelphia (Delaware to be specific). The album is very much a home recording project with Mr. Holt using only an Ovation acoustic guitar, a Moog Sonix Six synth, and a whole mess of found sound.

The main reference point here are the more psychedelic works of the Beatles, but in a very sideways manner. There is a serious music concrete asthetic as work here, much like on the White Album's often derided (but I consider great) "Revolution #9." In what must be direct reference to that track, Holt has entitled the two sides of the album Program Ten and Program Eleven. Especially Program Ten, there is a little more musical thrust here as Holt penned a few simple Lennon-esque acoustic folk tracks that drift through the waves of sound.

It's the construction of the album that pushes Dreamies past ordinary into the realm of being possibly great. Holt's songs, while recalling Lennon, are not notable in their own right, even though they are pleasant. Program Ten's "song" floats on with the same four strummed chords and some trippy lyrics. Synth blasts and the strange sonic disruptions slowly mold and vary the sound of the track. Although they would come much later, much of this makes me think of a very stripped down folk-infused Olivia Tremor Control.

Thus, the main attraction here is really the disembodied radio voices (including reports of moon launches and boxing matches), environmental sounds, and the alien presence of the very analog sounding Sonic Six. In fact, on Program Eleven there is much less presence of anything resembling a conventional song as Holt pushes his muse into a swirling pit of found sound.

This is the sort of album that the listener can simply float downstream with, or focus more intently to appreciate the sound construction. It's wildly experimental, although retaining just enough of a popular touch that is remains accessible. At best it's testament of the common man to latch on to inspiration and create something innovative and new. After hearing Dreamies, no musician really has an excuse not to at least try and record something. Maybe someone will still play it 23 years down the line.

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Bill Holt - 1974 - Dreamies

Mortimer - 1968 - Mortimer

Quality: 3.5 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 3 out of 5

Mortimer was a East Coast freakbeat band that had some success playing shows in New York City. Upon embarking on their strange and unfortunately short-lived recording career, they would metamorphosize into a acoustic pop band. Although they would have a short flirtation with the Beatles' Apple Records in 1969, this 1968 American disc remains their sole released product.

The sound here recalls the Hollies with close vocal harmonies and sometimes too-sugary melodies. Of course, this is without any hint of rock creeping in through the crystaline production. Also like the Hollies, much of the listenability here rests on the amount of sugar in the song. On Mortimer, we find some great shiny, happy and sometime trippy melodies alongside twee monstrosities. We get both on a track like "Would You Believe."

I feel that the best sunshine pop needs a tinge of darkness to really work. That's the difference between something like the somewhat embarrassing Love Generation and the genius of a Curt Bottecher or Brian Wilson. Mortimer sometimes manages to create this touch of darkness with a drift into modal melodies or Indian-inspired passages, but their songwriting is generally on the blinding side of the sunshine pop spectrum.

The big standouts here include the opening track "Dedicated Music Man," which is acoustic with shimmering harmonies, but still provides a little bit of a musical punch. Likewise for "Life's Sweet Music," which comes closer to rock than anything else on this album.

The bonus tracks include a few fun mono mixes, and some material Mortimer recorded between the release of this album and their move to England. Those tracks are interesting for the Mortimer fan, but of somewhat dubious sound quality.

Mortimer's album is average to slightly above average sunshine pop. It should be heard by all afficianados of that particular genre, but is probably of little interest to everyone else, especially those lusting for a more driving acid soaked psych-rock sound.

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Mortimer - 1968 - Mortimer

Pierre Moerlen's Gong - 1979 - Time Is The Key

Quality: 4 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 4 out of 5

Released in the same year as Downwind, Time Is The Key represents another shake-up in the band's line up. Moerlen and bassist Hansford Rowe are in fact the only hold-overs from the last album. Fortunately, this doesn't result in a loss of quality and Time Is The Key stands as another great album.

On first glance, Time Is The Key seems to focus on shorter compositions with it's longer track listing. This is a little misleading as the band stitches several compositions into song suites. The first four tracks comprise one of these while the stretch from "Sugar Street" to "Esnuria Two make up another.

The first four tracks are by far the highlight of the album. The focus here is on a jungle of percussion, handled completely by Moerlen by way of overdubbing. It's a fantastic display, especially with the vibraphone playing, with the rest of the band simply adding keyboards and guitars to provide a bit of sonic coloring. As a suite, I even prefer this to the heights of Downwind.

From here the album picks up a strong jazz/fusion vibe. The more conventional instruments take up more of the center stage and provide for more ensemble playing. There are no vocal numbers as on the last album, so everything flows nicely. I guess as a reward for hanging around, Rowe gets one composition credit on "An American In England," although it's far from a standout.

The second suite here pales to the opening tracks, but still provides some highlights. "Sugar Street" is amusing white boy funk, while the drive of the bouncing riff of "The Bender" recalls the early 70's Gong. "Arabesque Intro & Arabesque" nails the fusion sound with some great guitar runs from Allan Holdsworth.

Not quite as consistent as Downwind, Time Is The Key does scale some high peaks. It's just too bad that the first side of the album is almost perfect (except for Rowe's still ok track), while side two doesn't display quite as much genius.

Buy Me:
Pierre Moerlen's Gong - 1979 - Time Is The Key

Pierre Moerlen's Gong - 1979 - Downwind

Quality: 4 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 4 out of 5

Although adorned with a cover destined for the museum of bad cover art and a title such waiting for fart jokes, Downwind features some exceptional music hidden within its grooves. Pierre Moerlen adding his name to the band's name may seem like an egotistical move, but it actually makes a lot of sense as this is not the "Radio Gnome" Gong at all. In fact Moerlen is the only holdover from that classic era. The psychedelia and whimsy is toned way down in favor for jazz/fusion and progressive sounds, although the band retains a gift for instrumental passages that take off for outer space and an extremely high level of musicianship, both technically and artistically. Besides, Moerlen continues to show his skill as one of rock's best drummers. When Acid Mother's Temple recorded a tribute album to Moerlen a few years ago, I was a little confused as to why they were lamenting a drummer, but after hearing albums like this and You, it makes perfect sense.

Lacking much of a psychedelic edge, my rating of four on the trip-o-meter may seem a little confusing. The simple fact is I find vibraphones to be sort of mind-shifting, and they show up on every track here. Moerlen is also extremely skilled and innovative on vibraphone, as is his brother Benoit who takes up the vibraphone duties on four of the tracks on Downwind.

The centerpiece of this disc is the title track, which is a sort of collaboration with Mike Oldfield. It's reminiscent of the works on Oldfield's contemporary Incantations album (also featuring Moerlen and an album that I consider one of my 10 desert island discs), and is equal to those tracks. The song features a few majestic buildups of percussive genius with Oldfield's instantly identifiable guitar serving as wonderful icing on the cake. Steve Winwood is also featured on this track playing synth, although his still complementary performance doesn't stand out quite as much.

Violinist Dider Lockwood contributes a couple standout performances near the end of the album. The sort of song suite of "Emotions" and "Xtasea" feastures him playing the melodic counterpoint to the vibraphone sound pads and makes for a wonderful, drifting sound.

"Jin-Go-Lo-Ba" is a cover of a tune by African drummer Olatunji. Usually a late 70's jazz/progressive cover of something like that would have me running for the hills, but again the Moerlen brothers' percussive chops save the day and make this another worthwhile addition to the album.

The album mostly instrumental, but "Aeroplane" and "What You Know" feature singing. Neither track is bad and they don't disrupt the flow of the album too badly, but singing is clearly not Moerlen's strength. On later albums the band would focus on purely instrumental compositions. "What You Know" does feature some fine lead guitar from guest (and former Rolling Stone) Mick Taylor.

Do not come to this album looking for octave doctors and pot head pixies or you will come away disappointed. With the high level of musicianship, phenomenal percussion, and great ensemble playing Downwind is still a worthy, if very different, successor to the Gong brand.

Buy Me:
Pierre Moerlen's Gong - 1979 - Downwind

Paper Fences (2006) and Zonohedra (2007)

This is admittedly a bit of a "conflict of interest" post. Paper Fences and Zonohedra are projects ring-led by my old college roommate Andrew Bland. That's why you see no quality or trip-o-meters present. The Dr. spends plenty of time recording music too, and I'm all over Paper Fences playing guitar, bass, drums and synth. In fact, I'll apologize in advance for my somewhat spastic drumming. Anyway, these recordings are mostly psychedelic, and most certainly obscure, so I feel that they fit here.

Paper Fences started as a project in October 2005 as Andrew and I wanted to try making music together for the first time in a few years. He'd just converted his basement into a nice music space. I started with the impression that we'd be making a psych-folk sort of disc, although work eventually shifted to a more instrumental collection after a few creative difference fistfights (I never pick fights unless it regards recording music). Hearing the finished product, I actually wish that we'd completely dispensed with lyrics as a few tracks still have conventional vocals ("Dry Window," "Tectonic Glance," "The Inner Light").

Although we weren't completely sure about our plotting out musical course (or at least I wasn't), the best tracks here do sound unified. I hadn't heard the bands at the time, but in retrospect I feel like a lot of these tracks have a similar atmosphere to the band Arica or A Cid Symphony. There's a lot of color shining through the low-fi (but properly mic'ed) haze.

I often complain about the double album curse, and the same holds true here. To my objective ear, much of this sounds like some drunk folks screwing around, because it was. There's a few tracks (like "Polymorphic Sunrise" or "Garbanzo") where I assumed that we were just warming up or waiting for the buzz to dissapate. Andrew tied these jams together with an extra overdub or two and placed it on the final product. You might like it better without the window of experience.

By the time of the final recordings and mixing the Dr. was off to Japan again, but I might have done a little more editing if I were Andrew. Of course, we're not professionals and I'm sure he just didn't want to cut anyone's contributions. That said, here are the tracks that I'd put on one disc for a smoother listening experience: Invocation (Widening and Closing The Circle), Rainy Straw Hat, Fingertips Of Dreams, Confusciasm, Bamboo Gallery, Blue Glass, Paper Clip Button, Smoke, Snake Charmer, Penguin Stomp, Pantomime, Faces On The Ceiling, Glen Song, Cobblestone Kiosk, Refraction

I've added some bonus tracks of rejected early mixes that I had tried to mold into poppier psych-folk. They wouldn't have fit well on the finished album, and I wasn't completely successful at melding the analog recordings to my laptop based overdubs (compression is not the answer). But since I put a fair amount of work into them, I stuck them here.

Zonohedra is a more recent project from Andrew and a fellow I don't know named Steve Logel. With more of a battle plan (as opposed to aimless experimentation) and less egos to bruise, Zonohedra is a much more unified project. It makes for fine background music on a rainy afternoon or late at night. Andrew apparently liked the use of the MicroKorg from Paper Fences and brought in a few vintage synths to flesh out the all-instrumental disc. I tend to enjoy the more percussive tracks like "Alkaline," "Solstice," and "Whisper Forth" most.

At some point I'll probably post some of my own, somewhat technologically shinier music here (these recordings are more about organic sound). I guess that depends on your response to this (please leave comments! non-anonymous constructive criticism is welcome). Anyway, next up will likely be Pierre Moerlen's Gong.

Jade Warrior - 1971 - Jade Warrior

Quality: 4 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 4 out of 5

After July died the quick death of so many psych-pop bands, guitarist Tony Duhig and flute guru Jon Field resurfaced a few years later in the longer-lasting Jade Warrior. This time the balanced fell firmly on the prog-rock side of things, but Duhig and Field's talents as sound-sculptors was even more pronounced and this initial offering from the band is a richly textured, wonderful piece of work.

As many prog rock albums do, this album drifts from song to song, with the breaks not necessarily clearly staked out. They don't, however, attempt to create the multi-suite prog epic, which to be honest usually leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

The instrumentation here is almost folky, with lots of strummed acoustic guitars, hand percussion, and Jon Field's flute part standing toe-to-toe and sometimes bettering the better known works from Jethro Tull. Duhig works in some great fuzzed out acid-soaked guitar which stands as the clearest link to the earlier July. Notably, there is no drum kit at work here, but the hand percussion does such a great job filling in the rhythm that I never found myself missing a proper rock drummer.

It's almost useless to point out single tracks here. The allmusic guide suggests that this album be listened to as a whole and for once they may be right. The disc flows from Indian-inspired, meditative passages to the more western pop sections without a hitch. Listening now, I have to look at my media player to even figure out when we've reached the next song after the opening
"Traveller." This means there's not a whole lot of sonic diversity, but seeing as the album forms a drifting whole, this ends up as an plus on the scorecard. If there's anything here resembling a single, I guess it would be "Psychiatric Sergeant." It's not something that I'd expect to hear on the radio, but it's the closest thing to Tom Newman's songwriting in July. The main thing carried over from that band is a superior talent for song design.

The vocals from Glyn Havard are extremely strong and add some firmness to the often airy proceedings. Falling into the prog rock trap, however, are the lyrics. They are pretty wretched "expose your mind and commune with the serpent" sort of ranting. I recommend you enjoy the tone of Havard's voice and don't try to pay too much attention to what he's saying.

Getting back to the positives, the production is extremely clean and nuanced, with every instrument easy to pick out but not standing out above the mix. This is also a good headphone album with tastefully panned guitars and a widescreen placement of the instruments.

If you're looking for an Indian-folk-psych-prog album, you can't do much better than to spend time with Jade Warrior. It shows great musical evolution from the constraints of 60's pop, and really does deserve more recognition (except for the lyrics).

Note: I got these mp3s from another music blog, but I can't recall where. If you're the original poster, please drop me a note and I'll make sure to give credit where it's due.

Buy Me:
Jade Warrior - 1971 - Jade Warrior

July - 1968 - July

Quality: 4 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 4 out of 5

Armed with a wild cover that looks like the unfortunate result of a jungle-bound datura adventure, July is a classic piece of psychedelic pop with a pulsing rock edge. July's sound owes a big debt to the UFO scene of 1967 (early Pink Floyd, Soft Machine). They aren't thieves, however, and are much more song focused than those that were focused on 24 hour technicolour dream. Armed with some great songs from primary songwriter (and later Mike Oldfield engineer) Tom Newman, July managed to create an above average slice of psychedelic pop. Also, July's tonal style benefits from the wide pallet of guitarist Tony Duhig. Bypassing the jazz leanings of much of the London psychedelic scene, Dugig contributed some wild San Fran-esque acid guitar and Indian leanings.

The July album is frontloaded with its best songs. "My Clown," "Dandelion Seeds," and "Jolly Mary" are all overlooked classics. "My Clown" was the proper single and has found respect in many collector circles, while "Dandelion Seeds" makes some very natural and inspired sounding tempo shifts. "Jolly Mary" features some cool sound effects and comes across like a top shelf Syd Barrett outtake. Later on "To Be Free" also earns positive comparisons to prime Barrett with a liberal dose of Lennon-esque vocals slathered on.

Many tracks on July feature a demented and almost out of control reverb/delay effect on the vocals. While it is a gimmick, the band uses it quite well and I don't think I've heard the particular sound everywell else. The general production is good, if a bit muddy sounding (or it could just be my reissue). Fortunately, this slightly gritty sound also becomes a benefit. The band sounds a little gritty and saves a few of their more whimsical leanings from sounding too twee.

July gets some great mileage out of some other shoud-be-gimmicks. The sitars and unnaturally heilium-drenched vocals add some great color and juxtapose well with the slamming rhythm section and flights of acid wailing guitar. It's not as poppy as the opening tracks but the epic feel (at three-and-a-half-minutes) makes it my favorite on the album. An alternate take here as a bonus track is still good, but puts in relief the production of the proper album.

The only track here not written by Newman is "Crying Is For Writers," written by the drummer Chris Jackson. It's not quite at the level of Newman's songs, but still fits in nicely on the album. I guess you've got to stroke your drummer's ego a bit sometimes.

If there's a negative here, it's just that the second side of the album doesn't sparkle as much as the great songs on side one. It all holds up quite well, even if we find the band recycling "Jolly Mary" a little once we reach the closer "A Bird Lived."

July is right on the verge of experimenting with prog rock, but the balance definitely falls on the psych-pop side. This is the sort of album that belongs in a time capsule for those of us that have finally burnt out on the amazing, but easy to find Piper At The Gates Of Dawn.

Buy Me:
July - 1968 - July

The End - 1969 - Introspection

Quality: 3.5 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 4 out of 5

The End's Introspection is basically known for two things. First off, it's often added as a footnote to the Rolling Stones' history as Bill Wyman is present here as the producer, giving everything here a sheen that renders much of the album as sounding like a less warbly version of his "In Another Land." Charlie Watts also shows up a bit to beat on a tabla. Musically, this album is known for "Shades Of Orange," which is a deserved staple of psych-beat compilations.

Introspection is a victim of showing up at the wrong time. It's a solid and consistant example of circa-1967 psychedelic pop. Unfortunately, it didn't see release until 1969, at which point the album promptly sank like a stone. Seeing as we're now in a completely different century and have hindsight to guide us, let's approach this as not being hopelessly out of step with it's contemporary release.

The key word to describe Introspection is consistancy, almost to a fault. Apart from a few short forgettable English-English gibberish tracks ("Bromley Common," "Liner Draper," "Jacob's Bladder") the entire album floats on a nice dreamy sheen, with a few more pronounced beats to break things up a bit. There's not a whole lot of diversity here, although the signature sound is rather pleasant. That means we're left with the songwriting, which is a cut above most psych-pop groups, at least in terms of music. Much of the lyrics are made up of standard Summer Of Love cliches like "Under the rainbow something is moving/Everything is hazy, lights making patterns" or "No one can catch me/The blind cannot see," so let's leave it at that and focus on the sound.

The songwriting standouts include "Shades Of Orange." It really is a classic track and is probably the best thing here. I also have an affinity for the harder-edged "Cardboard Watch."
Also great is the ominous yet gliding title track, although it is later pointlessly revisited in an almost instumental edition that sounds like it belongs on a generic "hippie" film soundtrack. The band seemed to think that it was a groovy album closer.

A few lesser tracks still benefit from nice aural perks. "Loving, Sweet Loving" has an awesome harpsichord part from session man extrodinaire Nicky Hopkins, while "She Said Yeah" has some vocal harmonies that wouldn't be out of place on a Brian Wilson production. Some of the production touches are similar to those on the Stone's Satanic Majesty's, but they're more mannered and less stoned sounding here. For once a 60's British album seems to have a nice stereo mix as the mono single bonus tracks of "Shades Of Orange" and "Loving, Sweet Loving" are missing the atmospherics of the stereo tracks.

Basically, if you're a sucker for 1967 psychedelic pop (as I am), you'll probably find a lot to love here. Just don't expect anything particularly groundbreaking or mindblowing.

Buy Me:
The End - 1969 - Introspection

Can - 1973 - Future Days

Quality: 5 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 5 out of 5

Future Days isn't much representative of Can's signature sound, but I'm willing to call it their best album. Here the band completely melds into a single, ego-less entity and conjures a sonic journey along the waves of the cosmic ocean. Can goes even more into the jazz end of the spectrum, finding inspiration particularly in Bitches' Brew-era Miles Davis. "Spray" almost sounds like it could be an outtake from that jazz-fusion masterpiece.

I've often heard Can cited as a major influence on electronic music. On Future Days, Holger Czukay attempts some early sampling on "Moonshake." Even more rudimentary is Can's approach to music. Earlier tracks like "Mother Sky" and "Halleluhwah" provides a repetitive and hypnotic pulse upon which layers of sound were plastered, much like modern electronica. It didn't hurt that Jaki Leibezeit probably keeps better time than a computer. Here Can gives us the flip side to those epic tracks with "Bel Air." Where the earlier tracks focused in polyrhythmic or propulsive robotic percussion, "Bel Air" simply glides upon the clouds for 20 minutes. It's the dreamy brother among Can's epic tracks. Along with Brian Eno and Manuel Gottsching's contemporary efforts, I feel like Future Days is one of the foundation blocks for ambient and chilll-out music.

On the poppier end of the spectrum we find the title track at a, uh, short nine minutes. Damo Suzuki's practically whispered melody continually haunts my mind and keyboardist Irmin Schmidt's slightly out of time churning synth threatens to warp reality. Later on side one we find "Moonshake," which might be my favorite single Can track. "Moonshake" comes about as close to pop as classic Can would get, Suzuki intoning another great melody over Czukay locked single-note bass line (could to "Bel Air" to hear him play something difficult on bass) and Leibezeit's robotic pulse. Karoli and Schmidt add the sunshine to the melody. The sampling in the middle section is innovative, but in an almost comical way. In my alternate universe this was a number one hit, and in the real world it often ends up on mix tapes that I put together for folks.

Future Days is a floating journey for the listener, showcasing an altered Can but one playing at their absolute fused best. It gets my highest recommendation.

Buy Me:
Can - 1973 - Future Days

Can - 1972 - Ege Bamyasi

Quality: 5 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 4.5 out of 5

This seems to be Can's concept album about a can of okra; okra destined for soup I suppose. Really, the concept doesn't matter at all. What matters is that this is the second album at Can at their absolute best. This time out Can only went for a single album as opposed to the mammoth Tago Mago, so Ege Bamyasi is a lot more focused too.

Whereas the last album was in large part drummer Jaki Leibezeit's showcase, this one puts vocalist Damo Suzuki front and center. Often there are long stetches of Can's music where we don't necessarily hear Mr. Suzuki for long stretches, but he's definitely splattered liberally across this album. That's not to say you should listen for lyrics. Suzuki continues to sing in a mumbly mixture of English, Japanese, and gibberish, but it's all about the feeling and how he melds in with the rest of the band as basically another instrument.

The basic sound gets a little jazzier here. While still providing perfect time, Leibezeit loosens up and reveals his original status as a jazz drummer and Michael Karoli manages some languid, fluid lines on guitar. "Pinch" is a precursor to the lighter, spacier sound that Can would explore on their next album, while "Sing Swan Song" does a fine job of reshuffling elements of Can's earlier approach to a quieter sound.

Unlike the majority of krautrockers, Can has an uncanny ability to sound a little loose and funky. Leibezeit and bassist Holger Czukay are still at the top of their game as a rhythm section and the amazing breakbeats of "Pinch," "Vitamin C," and "I'm So Green" are just waiting for a modern hip-hop producer to sample. As an added plus, these songs are much more accessible than a lot of Can's music and makes Ege Bamyasi the closest thing to a pop album that Can would make in their prime (late period Can tries to get poppy to disasterous results).

And one track here actually did have a slight taste of pop success. The closing track "Spoon" actually charted as a single and was apparently added to the album in post production. It's a fine tune, but part of me wishes that "Vitamin C" or "I'm So Green" had even more success on the charts.

Instead of devoting an entire album to insane experimental noise, Can plunges it all into the ten minute "Soup." It's much better integrated into the album than somethng like Tago Mago's "Peking O" and doesn't overstay it's welcome, at least not for me.

If you're new to Can, I'd say that Ege Bamyasi is probably the best place to start. It's a great summation of where the band had been while laying the groundwork for the equally classic Future Days. This is quintessential Can. And just for the record, I totally dig the goofy cover art.

Buy Me:
Can - 1972 - Ege Bamyasi

Can - 1971 - Tago Mago

Quality: 4.5 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 5 out of 5

On Tago Mago we find the band at the start of their three album peak with Damo Suzuki. This is the band's first (and if we don't count the odds-and-sods Unlimited Edition, only) double album. The cover features what is actually a pretty smart visual pun for "blowin' your brains" out. It certainly works better that the crappy title puns the band would later use ("Saw Delight," "Flow Motion," blah!)

Tago Mago almost becomes an exception to the "double-album-that-could've-been-a-single" rule. There's a little bit too much experimentation on the second disc to make it, but it's usually interesting and the first disc is an absolute masterpiece.

The album opens with what is basically a three song suite of "Paperhouse," "Mushroom," and "Oh Yeah." While the band is uniformily strong, pretty much the entire first LP is a showcase for drummer Jaki Leibezeit. By this point he takes his place as one of the very best drummers in rock. The CD reissue liner notes speak of "Paperhouse" taking off and levitating, and for once this is not hyperbole. Leibezeit along with Karoli's perculating rhythm and some interstellar stabs from Schmidt's keys make the song really take off, glide above the ground, pick up speed, and slam into "Mushroom." The groove here is so infectious that the Flaming Lips would pretty much rip off the song wholesale twenty years later on their track "Take Meta Mars." Suzuki mumbles right through these songs glorious, stumbling gleefully through languages and gibberish and ranting about peeing off a bridge in Japanese (at least that how my wife translates it). By "Oh, Yeah," Damo gets the chance to emote backwards and does a damn successful job of it. It doesn't hurt that Holger Czukay and Leibzeit accompany him at their metronomic best as Karoli and Schmmidt provide aural window dressing.

"Halleluwah" takes up the entire second side at almost 19 minutes but never gets boring despite its epic length. Leibezeit manages about the most complicated beat that I imagine you could play in 4/4 time and the song still manages to be the funkiest track that anyone from Germany has ever produced. Our majestic moment her occurs when the beat briefly drops out, with the band shortly plunging back in at full lurch. "Halleluwah" might be a tiny notch below "Mother Sky" from Soundtracks, but being second to that track is still nothing to sneeze at.

The second LP of Tago Mago is a bit of a step down. There are lots of interesting ideas present but the band's modern compositional tendancies come to the fore and as good as these guys are, they're not Gyorgy Legiti or Steve Reich. "Aumgn" creates some soundscapes that would make for some great music to go along with Captain Kirk and Spock on the exploration of a new styrofoam planet, with lots of oscillated tones and Suzuki's delayed and reverbed mutterings before Leibzeit comes back in on the last few minutes to give another great demonstration of his drumming prowess. "Peking O" unfortunately drops Leibezeit's drumming, but Suzuki sounds creepier than hell and I love the moment where it sounds like he literally snaps and starts spewing forth high-speed gibberish. In fact the only thing here that resembles a song is the closing "Bring Me Coffee Or Tea," which is sort of like an after dinner mint.

Can's magnum opus may be a little impenetrable at times, but it's worth the effort. If you're new to the band, I'd spend some time with the more immediate first half before delving into the mysterious din of "Amugn" or "Peking O."

Buy Me:
Can - 1971 - Tago Mago

Can - 1970 - Soundtracks

Quality: 4 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 4 out of 5

Although this is Can's second LP release, they were adamant that this was not their second album. We can take the title Soundtracks seriously as keyboardist Irmin Schmidt had several buddies in the avant garde German film community and these tracks once adorned movies that now seem to have been lost to the mists of time. Therefore we'll look at Soundtracks as a compilation which is good as there's not much coherance here as an album. Like many compilations, there are a few duff songs present, but we also hear the first full flowering of Can's genius.

In fact, let's get straight to "Mother Sky," which is a 14 minute track of Can at their absolute best. Somehow it always seems much shorter when I listen to it. As a song, this one should get more that a 5 on the quality meter. The track starts as if in the middle of a full-out acid rock jam with Schmidt and guitarist Michael Karoli wailing away on their respective instruments. With a cymbal crash a few minutes in, the song suddenly collapses to the essence: the robotic rhythm of bassist Holger Czukay and Jaki Leibezeit. It's about as dramatic a moment as you'll find in rock music. From there, the band technically goes into a series of solos, although that's a misleading word to describe what they do. It's more of a layering of sound as there's no sense of ego from the musicians, but rather playing as one. This isn't to say that their playing isn't phenomenal as Leibezeit in particular seems to defy all reason polyrhythmically drumming while also maintaining the pulse of the song. It's even more amazing when you consider that Can recorded to two-track tape until 1975 (that means maybe one overdub), although they did some judicious editing of their jams.

The secret weapon here is Can's newly arrived singer, the Japanese ex-pat Damo Suzuki. He's not that impressive technically, mumbling his lyrics in a weird mix of English, Japanese, and gibberish, but he does seem to serve as a catalyst for the band. He somehow sings with no sense of ego, humanizing the rest of the band, yet allowing them to let the muse take them wherever it needs to. "Mother Sky" can rest on it's mechanisized groove because Suzuki gives the song heart. Can with Damo is several notches above Can without, despite the instrumentalists' skill and talent for ceaseless exploration.

Suzuki is also present on the tracks recorded for two of the three tracks the band recorded for a film called "Deadlock." They lead of the album and give supple hint to the majesty of Can Mark II. "Tango Whiskeyman" in particular has awesome rhythms that again show Leibezeit at his best. Suzuki is also present for a lesser but still enjoyable track called "Don't Turn The Light On, Leave Me Alone."

Suzuki replaced Malcolm Mooney after Mooney allegedly became stuck muttering "upstairs, downstairs" on stage ad infinitum. Two tracks here date from the Mooney era of the band. "Sould Desert" pales in comparison with everything else here with a lazy groove and Mooney singing on the more unlistenable end of the spectrum. Better is the jazzy "She Brings The Rain," although if Can continued pointless stylistic exercises like this I doubt they ever would have obtained the classic status they enjoy. If fact, they returned to this kind of exercise several years later when Suzuki departed, so I guess that's another example of Damo as Can's catalyst.

Soundtracks is a little too disjointed to be a great Can album, but the mere presence of the full "Mother Sky" makes it absolutely indispensible. If you want to know Can, then you need this.

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Can - 1970 - Soundtracks

The Can - 1969 - Monster Movie

Quality: 3.5 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 4 out of 5

Monster Movie is Can's official debut album and the only one released in the 60's or 70's that completely features American vocalist Malcolm Mooney. Here, the Can sound is readily recognizable, although it's being used for entirely different means. After this Can would opt for a hypnotic space groove, but here they are still grounded in the acid rock psychedelia of the late 60's. Every prime period Can album has it's own identity, but Monster Movie stands out among even those.

Mooney's vocals are far better here than on the previous year's recordings. Even when going for a higher range like on "Mary, Mary So Contrary," and strange and charmingly off-key, but it no longer sounds like his throat is filled with nails and phlegm. Otherwise, he's amusingly ranting like on the great grooving opener "Father Cannot Yell" (because he hasn't been born yet! oh, I see!) or predicting 80's hardcore screaming like on the later part of "Outside My Door."

Actually there are only four songs present here, and I've already mentioned three of them. Side A of the original LP is slightly more song oriented and pretty strong. "Father Cannot Yell" for me is the first truly classic Can track. Side B is the notorious side-long epic that Can would later make a good name for. The 20-minute long "Yoo Doo Right" is pretty good and provides a showcase for Can's instrumental prowess, but it pales next to similarly lengthy tracks that they would produce in the next few years.

Plenty of Can trademarks are present here. Karoli's guitar tone and style appears here in full bloom, as is Holger Czukay minimal bass thump. Master drummer Jaki Leibezeit gets to show off his tribal yet metronomic beats on "Yoo Doo Right," although he would use them more effectively on later albums.

Monster Movie does mark the beginning of classic-period Can. Almost all the elements are in place here, only the purpose is missing. It's not the best album for a Can neophyte, but it's essential for fans. It's also the only place that they're listed as "The Can," and the superfluous article amuses me for some reason.

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The Can - 1969 - Monster Movie

Can - 1981 - Delay 1968

Quality: 3 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 4 out of 5

This release actually documents the time leading up to Can's debut album, so I guess this is a proto-debut. At this point the German-based Can had not really fallen into their innerspace niche yet and featured American growler Malcolm Mooney on vocals. Delay 1968 features a very exploratory sound and tends to fall prey to conflicting goals within the band.

Can would eventually discover a cosmic groove based on repetition and lock-step rhythms, but at this point they were flirting with simple underground garage-psych inclinations. Not helping the matter was Mooney who seemed to be searching for the rock song that the rest of the band wasn't going to write.

Mooney had an avant-garde edge, but it tended towards more of a freak-beat sound. When going for a R&B sort of shouting, Mooney is quite effective and his strange spoken stories tend to work out ok. When he tries to sing, however, his voice sounds like sandpaper on gravel. His higher range is truly cringe-inducing.

I tend to compare Mooney to the similarly deranged sounding Wesley Willis. Of course, where Willis seemed to actually be unhinged, Mooney simply puts on a convincing act that does have some artistically inspired though behind it.

The opening "Butterfly" has all the elements of the Can groove, although it hasn't quite gelled into coherance yet. Mooney starts off strong but as the song barrels on, he doesn't seem sure how to continue and just keeps on ranting. Inspirationally, he falls behind with Can's epic groove and the song sounds at odds with itself. Fortunately on "Uphill," Can gives an early flash of their full power with and amazing lockstep beat and makes up for the fact that Mooney eventually sounds sort of lost (although the track ends rather abruptly; is my CD defective?).

On the other side of the coin, "Nineteenth Century Man" plays more towards the song end of the spectrum. It's like something from one of the stranger freakbeat compilations. "Thief" and "Man Named Joe" are ruined by Mooney's "sandpaper-on-gravel" voice and the rest of the band doesn't really manage to salvage what's left.

The closing "Little Star On Bethlehem" start off with a strange and amusing Mooney story before he returns to his higher register. I can deal with it here, but the groove still isn't special enough to make this a standout.

Your appreciation of this album will probably rely on your appreciation of Mooney. You may notice that I haven't said anything about the rest of the band. While many of the elements that would make Can spectacular are on show here, they haven't quite coalesed into a complete unit. Keyboardist Irmin Schmidt seems particularly at a loss how to fit in here and drummer Jaki Liebezeit is impressive, but not the polyrhythmic robot that he would soon become. That said, guitarist Michael Karoli does manage in some awesome riffs and gets a little more space here than he would on later albums.

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Can - 1981 - Delay 1968