Barnes & Noble
Between the experimentalism of Tago Mago and the calm soundscapes of Future Days lies Ege Bamyasi, the quintessential Can release. Here you will find the distilled essence of the group's music: pulsing rhythms, telepathic improvisation and trance-inducing grooves. Can are masters at keeping inspired moments alive, primarily through the hypnotic, lock-groove style of drummer Jaki Liebezeit and bassist Holger Czukay. Guitarist Michael Karoli rides on top with his shards-of-chords textures and scathing lead work. Ege Bamyasi also features the sound sculpting vocals of Damo Suzuki, whose voice is an expressive instrument of growls, whispers and shrieks, as well as keyboard player Irmin Schmidt, whose understated sonic washes and freaky electronic hiccups add crucial atmosphere to Can's overall sound. The impressive list of contemporary artists who have been influenced by Can -- including Brian Eno, Beck, David Bowie, and Stereolab -- are living proof of the importance of the group's musical legacy. For the uninitiated, Ege Bamyasi is the perfect place to start. Bill Lambertson
All Music Guide
The follow-up to Tago Mago is only lesser in terms of being shorter; otherwise the Can collective delivers its expected musical recombination act with the usual power and ability. Liebezeit, at once minimalist and utterly funky, provides another base of key beat action for everyone to go off on -- from the buried, lengthy solos by Karoli on "Pinch" to the rhythm box/keyboard action on "Spoon." The latter song, which closes the album, is particularly fine, its sound hinting at an influence on everything from early Ultravox songs like "Hiroshima Mon Amour" to the hollower rhythms on many of Gary Numan's first efforts. Liebezeit and Czukay's groove on "One More Night," calling to mind a particularly cool nightclub at the end of the evening, shows that Stereolab didn't just take the brain-melting crunch side of Can as inspiration. The longest track, "Soup," lets the band take off on another one of its trademark lengthy rhythm explorations, though not without some tweaks to the expected sound. About four minutes in, nearly everything drops away, with Schmidt and Liebezeit doing the most prominent work; after that, it shifts into some wonderfully grating and crumbling keyboards combined with Suzuki's strange pronouncements, before ending with a series of random interjections from all the members. Playfulness abounds as much as skill: Slide whistles trade off with Suzuki on "Pinch"; squiggly keyboards end "Vitamin C"; and rollicking guitar highlights "I'm So Green." The underrated and equally intriguing sense of drift that the band brings to its recordings continues as always. "Sing Swan Song" is particularly fine, a gentle float with Schmidt's keyboards and Czukay's bass taking the fore to support Suzuki's sing-song vocal. Ned Raggett