Tago Mago
Can's 1971 release, "Tago Mago," is nothing less than a watershed moment in the
world of early progressive rock. Surrounding the emergence of Can was a highly
sophisticated rock evolution. With the likes of King Crimson pushing performance
boundaries into substantially more complex territory and Pink Floyd exploring
the outer realms of space, it would be logically difficult to emerge as
something truly unique during the rise of progressive rock in the early
seventies. Ironically, Can made originality look effortless. With complexity
rapidly becoming the focus of rock, Can pushed against the grain, delving into a
far more primal brand of avant-garde modern minimalism, with magnificent
success. "Tago Mago" is truly years ahead of its time.
"Tago Mago" was originally released as a two disc LP, therefore clocking in at around 70 minutes rather than 45 minute standard LP time. The contrast between each disk is exceedingly stark, showing two distinct sides of this anomalous entity. The first half of this disk ("Paperhouse"- "Halleluhwah") is very "jammy." The songs are largely made up of repetitive percussive cycles and various bits of improvisation. While the songs largely pulse forward at a non-transitive rhythm, there is much more going on than would seem possible within each track. "Paperhouse" starts off relatively slow, and eventually loops into an expansive jam session, containing some delightful guitar work from Michael Karoli. "Paperhouse" ends with an intense let-out of energy that Jaki Liebezeit has masterfully brewing through his increasingly aggressive percussive cycles. "Mushroomhead" then begins. This is the shortest and most instantly accessible song on the album, consisting of what seems to be an electronic drum beat and Damo Suzuki's disconnected murmuring; a song, to these ears, reminiscent of today's Radiohead. "Oh Yeah" begins an explosion sound bite and what sounds like Suzuki's vocals being played backwards. "Oh Yeah" eventually evolves into a jam with an almost "folky" feel to it. "Halleluhwah" begins like something right off of Miles Davis' electric-jazz-fusion apex, "Live-Evil." A funk beat dominates the entire song, that expands into an amazing variety of atmospheres and colorful, textural explorations in its' 18 minute entirety. The song seems to slowly succumb to insanity as it progresses, but never quite loses its' steam. After "Halleluhwah," Tago Mago completely loses touch with reality, delving into some seriously avant-garde territory, previously explored by the likes of modern composers Stockhausen and Varse, which serves as a perfect contrast to the minimalist nature of the first half of the album. Can continue to delve in a perpetual nightmare of psychedelic hysteria until the album closes.
Everything in "Tago Mago" is sharp, angular and uneasily tense, while somehow able to slowly expand into the listeners inner conscious. The performance is delightfully tight, in its own choppy manner, even as "Tago Mago" moves into obscure and highly illogical territory. You can never really guess where "Tago Mago" will take you, even after multiple listens. There is almost a conscious equilibrium throughout this albums entirety, matching every moment of melodic bliss with haphazardly primitive intensity. Such a staggering amount of cohesive variety has never been as accurately put to mainstream music than in this krautrock classic.
Though "Tago Mago" is unquestionably a landmark statement in rock music, it is certainly not for the average listener. This album is a "grower" in every sense of the word. Even amongst fans of prog-rock, you would be hard pressed to find a listener who can honestly say that they enjoyed "Tago Mago" upon first listen. Everything about this album is sharp, intense, and unsetting, even in its' most accessible moments, revealing almost none of its' dark secrets without intense patience from the listener. If I were pressed to find a single adjective to most accurately describe "Tago Mago," it would undoubtedly be "subtle." "Tago Mago" demands unwavering attention, vivid imagination, and tolerance for the quintessential avant-garde. There is, undoubtedly, nothing more painful to the average listener than the constant barrage of violent percussion cycles that "Tago Mago" offers, or the a-melodic, audio-hallucinations featured throughout the last half of the disk. Of course, when "Tago Mago" finds its way to the appreciative ears of the music fanatic, it eventually becomes a permanent favorite.
Akin to any truly innovative musical composition, even the most thorough of descriptions fall despairingly short of personifying the actual experience. I can only appeal to the adventurous listener's curiosity by resulting in using the utterly cliché, but never more appropriate statement: "You have to hear it to believe it."
"Tago Mago" was originally released as a two disc LP, therefore clocking in at around 70 minutes rather than 45 minute standard LP time. The contrast between each disk is exceedingly stark, showing two distinct sides of this anomalous entity. The first half of this disk ("Paperhouse"- "Halleluhwah") is very "jammy." The songs are largely made up of repetitive percussive cycles and various bits of improvisation. While the songs largely pulse forward at a non-transitive rhythm, there is much more going on than would seem possible within each track. "Paperhouse" starts off relatively slow, and eventually loops into an expansive jam session, containing some delightful guitar work from Michael Karoli. "Paperhouse" ends with an intense let-out of energy that Jaki Liebezeit has masterfully brewing through his increasingly aggressive percussive cycles. "Mushroomhead" then begins. This is the shortest and most instantly accessible song on the album, consisting of what seems to be an electronic drum beat and Damo Suzuki's disconnected murmuring; a song, to these ears, reminiscent of today's Radiohead. "Oh Yeah" begins an explosion sound bite and what sounds like Suzuki's vocals being played backwards. "Oh Yeah" eventually evolves into a jam with an almost "folky" feel to it. "Halleluhwah" begins like something right off of Miles Davis' electric-jazz-fusion apex, "Live-Evil." A funk beat dominates the entire song, that expands into an amazing variety of atmospheres and colorful, textural explorations in its' 18 minute entirety. The song seems to slowly succumb to insanity as it progresses, but never quite loses its' steam. After "Halleluhwah," Tago Mago completely loses touch with reality, delving into some seriously avant-garde territory, previously explored by the likes of modern composers Stockhausen and Varse, which serves as a perfect contrast to the minimalist nature of the first half of the album. Can continue to delve in a perpetual nightmare of psychedelic hysteria until the album closes.
Everything in "Tago Mago" is sharp, angular and uneasily tense, while somehow able to slowly expand into the listeners inner conscious. The performance is delightfully tight, in its own choppy manner, even as "Tago Mago" moves into obscure and highly illogical territory. You can never really guess where "Tago Mago" will take you, even after multiple listens. There is almost a conscious equilibrium throughout this albums entirety, matching every moment of melodic bliss with haphazardly primitive intensity. Such a staggering amount of cohesive variety has never been as accurately put to mainstream music than in this krautrock classic.
Though "Tago Mago" is unquestionably a landmark statement in rock music, it is certainly not for the average listener. This album is a "grower" in every sense of the word. Even amongst fans of prog-rock, you would be hard pressed to find a listener who can honestly say that they enjoyed "Tago Mago" upon first listen. Everything about this album is sharp, intense, and unsetting, even in its' most accessible moments, revealing almost none of its' dark secrets without intense patience from the listener. If I were pressed to find a single adjective to most accurately describe "Tago Mago," it would undoubtedly be "subtle." "Tago Mago" demands unwavering attention, vivid imagination, and tolerance for the quintessential avant-garde. There is, undoubtedly, nothing more painful to the average listener than the constant barrage of violent percussion cycles that "Tago Mago" offers, or the a-melodic, audio-hallucinations featured throughout the last half of the disk. Of course, when "Tago Mago" finds its way to the appreciative ears of the music fanatic, it eventually becomes a permanent favorite.
Akin to any truly innovative musical composition, even the most thorough of descriptions fall despairingly short of personifying the actual experience. I can only appeal to the adventurous listener's curiosity by resulting in using the utterly cliché, but never more appropriate statement: "You have to hear it to believe it."
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