12: Can - Tago Mago

The Kraken. Before I came to University, I decided I needed new records in my life so I went into Bristol and bought a few bits and pieces of Kraut and other things. I can vaguely recall Tago Mago being bought along with Mouse on Mars - Iaora Tahiti and maybe 94 Diskont? I can't remember listening to this the first time and I'm not sure what I really made of it. It's a beast and it's probably one of the best albums ever made but, for me, there are two big problems with it. It has, however, become one of those records that's stuck with me and one that always has something to say to me throughout various periods of my life.

Double albums are tricky though (outside of hip hop), and there aren't that many that can stand up to a back to back listen. Tago Mago's clever in that all the best bets are right there on the first disc. The second one is a bit more tricky, though apparently that was the intention. But this is the Can album were everything works in a glorious harmony. The experimental bits are experimental, the wig out bits wig out, and the nice bits are nice.

The first disc is perfection. The couplets of Paperhouse and Mushroom work beautifully together, the claustrophobia of the former leading to the dourness of the latter, the transition between them is marked with a huge ping sound. Damo's not annoying but is basically chanting the same thing over and over - it works though. It's one of those times that Can are so perfect that they go beyond annoyingly perfect into transcendentally perfect - like Shatner seeing God. Notes are placed not played: that they could not exist in any other form in any other way.

An explosion leads into Oh Yeah. I always thought that this explosion was where Tim Westwood got his explosion sound but clearly not. Oh Yeah is the essence of Can in 7 minutes. The song is reflective like Cibo Matto's Sugar Water video - in the first half Damo sings backwards, reversing round for the second half (alongside various cymbal crashes and suchlike). The drums are relentless, shifting but staying the same over the duration. Half way through it all comes to a halt, leaving the organ spinning in space before geting back to the start.

In the world of 20 minute Can songs Halleluhwah is the only that really works. There's a version of this on 45 which I covet but have never had the courage to pay the asking price. Again the drums shuffle and are relentless. Everything spins round and round the center - Damo recites the names of the songs that have preceded it (ha!). He also says something like "Salting for my problem, yes I am" but what that means I don't know. The key thing is it turns 20 minutes into 5 and never really gets boring but never stays static. Like a great funk song, it seems to go on and on forever whilst feeling quite brief. It is truly magical.

Then the come down: Aumgn and Peking O are uber experimental and suffer for it. Both are all noises without really going anywhere. They're not terrible and maybe the album without them would suffer (probably not though), but I find them hard going and easily forgettable. The latter goes into this plinky plonky electronic thing which is quite entertaining but it doesn't last long. They take up 30 minutes combined which is enough time to get your head together after the magnificence of Halleluhwah.

Then it's Bring me Coffee or Tea which is melancholy and reflective Can at it's best. Something about the bass and guitar sound they get is just stunning and it rounds off something close to a true masterpiece. Truly it's a joy to behold and if they could find someway of fitting the five tracks on a single LP it would be perfection. Everything about it from the orange head cover to the name, to the sounds are out of this world but clearly tied to it. Stunning.