February 2021 Marks 50 Years Since the Release of Tago Mago — One of Rock’s Greatest Masterpieces
As February 2021 approaches, music lovers worldwide prepare to celebrate the 50th anniversary of Tago Mago, the groundbreaking album by the German experimental rock band Can. Recorded in November 1970, Tago Mago emerged from a series of daring sessions that fused jazz, funk, avant-garde tape editing, and early sampling techniques into a singular, hypnotic soundscape.
Released in February 1971, this landmark record was the first to showcase the talents of vocalist Damo Suzuki, who stepped in after the departure of original singer Malcolm Mooney in 1970. Tago Mago remains a towering influence on progressive, psychedelic, and experimental music — a testament to Can’s fearless innovation and enduring impact on the rock canon.
A Bold New Chapter
Recorded in November 1970, Tago Mago was born out of a pivotal moment for Can. The band had just parted ways with Malcolm Mooney, their original frontman, whose manic energy defined their early work. Enter Damo Suzuki, whose ethereal, improvisational vocal style ushered in a radically new phase. His voice often feels less like singing and more like an instrument itself—sometimes hypnotic, sometimes primal—blurring boundaries between lyricism and pure sound.
Innovative Fusion of Styles
Tago Mago thrives on contradiction and contrast. It draws from jazz’s improvisational freedom, funk’s hypnotic grooves, and the avant-garde’s disruptive spirit. What sets it apart is Can’s pioneering use of tape editing and early sampling techniques—a bold approach that stitched together jam sessions into complex, unpredictable compositions.
Tracks like “Halleluhwah” unfold over 18 minutes of intricate polyrhythms, swirling textures, and repeated motifs, drawing listeners into a trance-like state. “Aumgn” ventures into eerie, otherworldly territory with its experimental soundscapes, while “Mushroom” offers a haunting, rhythmic pulse beneath Suzuki’s enigmatic vocals.
Legacy and Influence
Upon release in February 1971, Tago Mago baffled some but thrilled those open to new sonic frontiers. Its impact would ripple far beyond the Krautrock movement from which it emerged, influencing genres as varied as post-punk, ambient, electronica, and alternative rock.
Artists ranging from Radiohead to Sonic Youth have cited Can’s work as a touchstone. The album’s fusion of raw energy and meticulous studio craftsmanship opened new possibilities for what rock music could be—not just a set of songs but a journey, an immersive experience.
Why Tago Mago Still Matters
Half a century on, Tago Mago endures because it defies easy categorisation. It’s challenging and rewarding in equal measure, inviting repeated listens to uncover its layers. In an era of instant gratification, its sprawling, patient compositions demand attention and presence.
More than that, it stands as a testament to artistic courage—of a band willing to break their own rules, embrace imperfection, and trust in collective intuition. For listeners willing to take the plunge, Tago Mago remains an exhilarating, timeless masterpiece, a landmark in the ever-evolving landscape of rock.
Pretending to feel the warmth of sun rays on my neck, I wandered from the garden into the kitchen—only to be pulled from my thoughts by the ringing telephone. The moment I lifted the receiver, I knew it was Mysterious Vee’s voice on the other end, ready to whisk me away once again.
This time, her journey was unlike any other: an eclectic dive into the pulsating rhythms and otherworldly textures of the Japanese soundscape. Every note promised to transport me somewhere new, a place where tradition and innovation collide in electrifying harmony.
If you crave a sonic adventure that defies expectation and awakens your senses, tune in—and let Mysterious Vee guide you through this mesmerizing musical voyage.
From Punjab with Love (and Synths): Vee’s Sonic Postcard
The line crackles, carrying the faint hum of cicadas and the occasional honk of a passing truck. Somewhere in rural Punjab, in a weatherworn telephone booth that’s seen more monsoon rains than missed calls, the ever-enigmatic Vee dials in her latest transmission for Lost in a Wide Open Field.
This time, her compass spins toward a single, shimmering point of obsession: the synth. Not the cold, mechanical caricature of ‘80s clichés, but the warm-blooded, story-telling kind — the one that can both punch you in the chest and pull at your heartstrings in the same breath.
Vee’s latest set is a curated constellation: established names whose fingerprints are already etched into the circuitry of modern sound, and hidden gems whose work hums like a secret power source waiting to be discovered. Each track, whether wrapped in neon gloss or stripped to minimalist pulse, celebrates the honourable synth as both instrument and alchemist, capable of turning the mundane into the transcendent.
It’s more than a playlist — it’s a late-night drive across sonic landscapes, from city skylines blinking in electronic Morse code to wide open fields where the stars themselves seem sequenced. And like that crackling phone line from Punjab, Vee’s voice is the tether: intimate, knowing, and just mysterious enough to keep you hooked for the next call.
I had a fantastic evening with Benjamin — a truly memorable night of great music and vibes. But there’s a serious problem that keeps popping up at gigs lately: people chatting through the performance. I noticed it most recently at the Massive Attack shows. It’s baffling how some folks just don’t seem to respect the artist or the audience around them. If you’re not going to give your full attention, why not just stay home and listen to a CD?
That aside, Mr. Zephaniah was in top form, and the band played tight, making for a genuinely enjoyable night. It also reaffirmed something I’ve long suspected — white people really can’t dance, and let’s be honest, we rarely pull off the dreadlocks look with any real cool factor!
Ding, ding — round two. Back in the ring with Idles.
After first catching their incendiary performance on April 8th at the Komedia in Bath, six months later it’s clear: this band is on a rocket-fueled trajectory. Since then, Idles have dropped their second album, smashing into the UK Top Five, stormed the globe on tour, flooded TV and radio waves, and now, with a sold-out UK tour under their belt, they’ve firmly cemented themselves as the most vital band to emerge from these shores in recent memory.
Tonight, at SWX in Bristol, the volume is cranked, the pace relentless. Support band, Heavy Lungs impress with their raw, jagged sound, but it’s clear where the night’s true pulse lies. Idles tear through their set with the manic energy of the Village People on acid — chaotic, exuberant, utterly uncontainable.
At Bath, their live energy carried them through, but here? With an ever-growing and wildly responsive crowd, their confidence is sky-high — and rightly so. It takes guts to invite fans onstage; it takes pure, unshakeable confidence to hand over your instruments to them. What follows is glorious mayhem — a glorious, beautiful shambles — feeding the band’s raw, unfiltered energy, making this performance feel like a living, breathing beast.
There’s a rare and electric bond between band and audience tonight, a connection that harks back to punk’s wild heyday in the late ’70s, or the anarchic stage invasions at early Smiths gigs. Idles shows are celebrations of life — raw, flawed, unapologetic — a much-needed antidote in an era where hate and division have become disturbingly mainstream.
Sure, rock bands have always had their audiences eating from their hands. But in today’s sterile, overproduced musical landscape, it’s a rare gift to witness a band that means more than just the product they sell. Tonight, that gift belongs to Idles.
Canzoniere Grecanico Salentino (CGS), a vibrant force in traditional Italian music, was born in 1975 under the visionary guidance of writer Rina Durante. Hailing from the sun-soaked region of Salento in Southern Italy, this dynamic seven-piece ensemble, accompanied by a captivating dancer, breathes new life into the ancient rhythms of Pizzica — the fiery, hypnotic folk tradition that has echoed through generations.
With a unique blend of reverence and innovation, CGS transforms Pizzica into a contemporary celebration of sound and movement, where every note pulses with the heartbeat of Salento’s cultural soul. Their track Lu Guistacofane, featured on the acclaimed album Canzoniere, is a testament to their magnetic energy. It’s nearly impossible to stay still when this irresistible beat takes hold — you’d have to be downright stiff from the waist down not to get swept up in the dance.
Tom Waits emerges from his artistic hibernation with a striking new collaboration alongside the legendary guitarist Marc Ribot, delivering a raw and powerful anti-fascist folk anthem. The song, drenched in gritty emotion and defiant spirit, is accompanied by a visually compelling video that cuts deep, delivering a bold and unflinching critique of the Trump era.
This fierce track is featured on Songs of Resistance 1948-2018, a thought-provoking album set to drop on September 14, 2018, via ANTI-. The record serves as a rallying cry, weaving decades of protest and resilience into a sonic tapestry that challenges the status quo and reminds us all of the enduring power of music as resistance.
With Waits’ gravelly voice and Ribot’s jagged guitar lines converging, this collaboration stands as a testament to the relentless spirit of dissent—a soundtrack for a time when courage is more necessary than ever.
In the crowded world of music production, I’m always on the lookout for artists and bands promoting their wears in an innovated way and with this in mind, the Arthr project recently caught my ears and eyes. The project is ‘born from a love of live performance, electronic and experimental music, alongside animation. The character Arthr represents the imagery, ideas, and creative identity behind the project, placed into real-world environments where he explores themes of nostalgia and time.’
The latest Arthr release is Whisperings of the World (featuring King Colobus), which also came in an elaborate limited edition cassette format (20 copies). Each cassette comes with a little self-made Arthr figure attached with only four (at the point writing) remaining for sale. You can see more information of this release by clicking here
The trials, tribulations, and frustrations of creating the little Arthr figures are captured in a recent blog message from the project, which you can read by clicking this link. You can also catch up on Arthr’s journey through nostalgia and time at the official You Tube where you can also see some of the creative background work going into building this fascinating project and concept, including live performances. Take a look, listen and Join the journey.
Irregular Frequencies 