No Dogs in Space

Can Pt IV

82 min
Jul 25, 2024almost 2 years ago
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Summary

This episode concludes the four-part series on Can, the influential German experimental rock band. The hosts trace Can's evolution from their 1972 UK tour through their dissolution in 1978, covering landmark albums like Ege Bamiase and Future Days, the departure of vocalist Damo Suzuki, and the band's shift toward technology-driven recording that ultimately diminished their spontaneous creative magic.

Insights
  • Spontaneous, real-time composition with minimal overdubbing created Can's most innovative work; multi-track recording technology paradoxically diminished their creative output by enabling perfectionism over magical imperfection
  • Band cohesion depends on complementary creative tensions—Can's best work emerged when diverse personalities (experimental vs. disciplined, spontaneous vs. structured) balanced each other rather than converged
  • Influential artists often inspire through philosophy and intent rather than sonic imitation; Can's impact came from adopting John Cage's freedom-based approach rather than copying his sound
  • Commercial success and technological advancement can erode the conditions that created artistic breakthroughs; Can's biggest hit 'I Want More' coincided with the beginning of their creative decline
  • Vocalist departure created irreplaceable loss; despite auditioning famous singers (John Lydon, Mark E. Smith), no replacement captured Damo Suzuki's balance of spontaneity and discipline
Trends
Analog recording techniques and real-time ensemble performance as counter-trend to digital multi-tracking perfectionismInfluence of avant-garde composition philosophy (John Cage, Stockhausen) on rock music production and creative freedomPost-breakup artist legacies sustained through independent record labels and archival releases rather than major label supportExperimental rock bands achieving cult influence and inspiring subsequent genres (post-punk, electronic, alternative) despite limited commercial successEuropean touring and college circuit as viable alternative to mainstream radio/pub venues for experimental musicBand member isolation and lack of communication as precursor to creative decline and dissolutionSpiritual/religious conversion as catalyst for artist departure from commercial music projectsSampling and tape-editing techniques emerging as viable solo career path for rhythm section members post-breakup
Topics
Experimental rock composition and instant composition techniquesImpact of recording technology on creative spontaneityVocal performance in avant-garde rock musicBand dynamics and creative tension managementJohn Cage's influence on rock music philosophyIndependent record label creation and artist legacy preservationEuropean touring circuits and college audiencesKrautrock and German experimental music movementPost-breakup solo careers and artistic reinventionSampling and electronic music production techniquesSpiritual/religious influence on artist career decisionsMusic criticism and genre classificationSoundtrack placement and commercial viability of experimental musicDrummer innovation and rhythmic inventionBass playing evolution from intuitive to technical proficiency
Companies
United Artists Records
UK record label that signed Can and commissioned their albums Ege Bamiase and Future Days with strict deadlines
Virgin Records
Label that signed Can after their United Artists release, negotiated by manager Hildegard Schmidt with Richard Branson
Spoon Records
Independent label founded by Hildegard Schmidt in 1979 to preserve and release Can's catalog and archival material
Mute Records
Contemporary label partnering with Spoon Records to release Can's live recordings and archival material
Zoo World Magazine
Short-lived national music magazine based in Fort Lauderdale that reviewed Can's Ege Bamiase album positively
Enemy New Musical Express
UK music publication where critic Ian McDonald reviewed Can's live performances with mixed critical reception
People
Ermin Schmidt
Founding member who conceptualized Can's experimental approach, influenced by John Cage; preserved band legacy throug...
Damo Suzuki
Japanese vocalist who joined Can in 1970 and departed in 1973 due to spiritual conversion and discomfort with fame; p...
Holger Czukay
Electronics innovator who pioneered tape-editing techniques; left Can in 1977 due to creative isolation; pursued infl...
Michael Karwoski
Guitarist who evolved from psychedelic to ambient-influenced playing; created 'Bel Air' inspired by Portuguese coasta...
Jackie Liebezeit
Disciplined drummer whose innovative rhythmic patterns defined Can's sound; criticized Future Days as too symphonic; ...
Malcolm Mooney
American vocalist in Can's early period (1968-1969); later pursued fine arts education and continued music/art career...
John Cage
Philosophical influence on Can's approach to freedom, silence, and environmental sound; Ermin Schmidt knew Cage and a...
John Lydon
Called Ermin Schmidt at 3 AM requesting to audition as Can vocalist after Sex Pistols breakup; declined due to Can's ...
Mark E. Smith
Persistent fan who repeatedly called Ermin Schmidt requesting to sing with Can; later immortalized Damo Suzuki in son...
Hildegard Schmidt
Ermin's wife who managed Can, negotiated Virgin Records deal, and founded Spoon Records in 1979 to preserve band's le...
Andrew Lauder
UK United Artists executive who observed Can's 1972 UK tour and described their telepathic musical connection
Ian McDonald
NME critic who reviewed Can's live performances negatively but later praised Future Days and Bel Air albums
Richard Branson
Virgin Records founder who signed Can after their United Artists release ended
Brian Eno
British musician and producer who was close with Holger Czukay; influenced by Can's experimental approach
Johnny Greenwood
Radiohead guitarist who placed Can's 'Vitamin C' in the film Inherent Vice, introducing the song to new audiences
Marcus Parks
Podcast host providing analysis and commentary on Can's history and musical significance
Carolina Hidalgo
Co-host providing commentary and musical observations throughout Can series
Patrick Fisher
Research assistant who translated German sources and conducted extensive research for Can series
Quotes
"Watching Can is like watching a married couple who knew each other so well, they'd finish each other's sentences. Audiences were either transfixed or bewildered or probably both."
Andrew Lauder, United Artists Records executiveEarly in episode discussing 1972 UK tour
"We weren't like most groups who started out as friends or schoolmates. We came from different points of view to hyper focus on one sound. I've always been amazed that we were able to form Can at all."
Ermin SchmidtDiscussing Can's formation and diverse membership
"Can gave younger generations an example of how to find their own identity by forgetting everything they learned before and starting like a newborn child."
Holger CzukayFinal episode discussing Can's legacy
"I don't think I'm Japanese. I'm some kind of German who speaks Japanese very well."
Damo SuzukiDiscussing his life after leaving Can
"Can saved my life. I even bought Soon Over Babaluma."
Mark E. Smith, The FallDiscussing his admiration for Can
Full Transcript
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God damn it, we're here. We're at the band that is next to the replacements, the hardest to Google. God, it's been a fucking challenge. So you know what, I'm kind of glad we're at the final chapter. I am glad we're here to welcome to No Dogs in Space, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Marcus Parks. I'm Carolina Hidalgo and below me is Georgie Hidalgo-Parks. Our cute little corgi Jack Russell makes. Are you ready for Can Part 4, Georgie? It's important that we say that she's in the room because that's the whole point of Can and the whole point of recording is to make sure that you know what's going on in the room at all times. So if you hear a shake, it's me, Marcus or Georgie. One of the three of us. There you go. Let's do it. Okay, so when we last left Can, they were just finishing up their first UK tour in 1972 where they played mostly colleges because it was more their demographic. Yeah. Right? They're not playing pubs. No, no, no. They're playing with a more open experimental mind and the time and energy to waste it on them. And I don't mean waste it, but you know, colleges get more time to try stuff out. Spend it. Yeah, you're more frivolous with your time in college. Before the realities of life catch up to you. Yes. Okay, so the UK tour was a success even if some people couldn't get their heads around all this experimental jamming that Can would do on the shows. Because remember, they never had a set list or a plan prepared for the show. They just take in the atmosphere and start playing or eating chicken on stage. Whatever it was that worked for them or not, it was a risk that they were always willing to take. And Andrew Lauder, he was a United Artists Record Executive for the UK back then. He said, watching Can is like watching a married couple who knew each other so well, they'd finish each other's sentences. Audiences were either transfixed or bewildered or probably both. You should check out his book. It's very, very good. Okay, so Can, they were there in the UK to promote their latest album, Tagomago, which they kinda did. Because remember, they're just jamming. They're the jazz audicies. So they'll be like, hey, here's that popular song, Spoon. And then it takes 15 minutes of jamming to work up to 15 seconds of a spoon riff. And then they go, there it is, Spoon. And then later everyone's like, hey, I want to hear Spoon. You heard it. Okay. You hear me go, dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt. That was Spoon. What do you want? Minute 45. You didn't hear that? Anyway, this is not exactly David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust Tour that was actually happening at the same time in England. That's crazy. You could see Can and David Bowie in the same week in 1972. And it's nuts. It's incredible. But once Can got back from England, they played at the Berlin Pop Festival and they debuted their latest single that had just been released in Germany, A Little Diddy, called Vitamin C. Hey, you! You're losing, you're losing, you're losing, you're losing, yo, you gotta see, you gotta see. Yes. Now, Vitamin C is the song where every element of Can truly comes together. It's basically when the Can organism stands upright and starts using tools. Oh, like Space Odyssey. You're doing the monkey ape thing. Yeah, yeah, this is the monkey ape thing. Yeah, where they throw the bone and it turns into the obelisk and then it's the baby and then it's fucking, hey you! The song is sparse and exercise and listening where every member plays exactly what they need to and nothing more. For example, even though Michael Corolla was obviously capable of Stooges level madness as heard on songs like Mother Sky, his part on Vitamin C is ingeniously limited to faint palm-muted notes way back in the mix that swell into furiously strummed chords during the chorus. The song is carried, however, by Holger Tschuke's cleverly simple bass line that gets progressively more urgent as the song continues. While Jackie Leibesite turns in what is possibly one of the most inventive and catchy drum beats ever, a career-defining performance that partially came to define Can itself. It is their biggest song. Yeah, it's absolutely their biggest song and his drum beat, I mean, it's up there with a patchy when it comes to like, oh, I know that drum beat. But tying it all together is Domo Suzuki, whose delivery of purely Dadaist lyrics comes across as a dire message from an alien civilization that you don't quite understand. It's like, I'm losing my Vitamin C? What does that mean? Is that bad? That sounds really fucking bad. Oh god, what's gonna happen when all my fucking Vitamin C's gone? Remember Domo was visited by a UFO in Odara, Japan. He was. So we don't know what happened to him. But then, as you're asking yourself whether or not you're ever gonna get an answer to your question, keyboardist Ermin Schmidt has his shining moment in Can. His swirl of unnerving carnival carousel organ that eventually gets lost in a sea of oscillation tells you that whether you understood the message or not, the transmission is over. I don't know what's going on and I love it. Yeah. I love it. Oscillation. Yeah. And you know, Ken did later put this in a soundtrack of a TV movie that they were commissioned to do and it worked beautifully. And maybe that's why this song, Vitamin C, is in so many soundtracks today, like Inherent Vice. I believe Johnny Greenwood had a thing or two to say about that. Yeah, I think so. I mean, Inherent Vice, that's how I heard Vitamin C for the first time. That's how I was introduced to Can. I was watching the movie at like the Magnolia Theater in New York City and the movie opens with Vitamin C and I'm just sitting there going like, Oh my God, I have to know what this song is. And then the movie's three hours long. They're the run home, get to your computer. And as soon as I got home, I found out, holy shit. And I bought Iggy Bomyasi immediately. That's amazing. It's also been in other movies. Sorry, I was going to go down a list. We can just make it really quick. Like Sophia Coppola's movie, a Pedro Moldovar, you know, he's really good. And that TV show, The Get Down. Okay. Anyway, so the point is, is that Vitamin C is probably, it's not just a very good song, but it works in soundtracks. It really does. Well, it's just, it's that, it's such a signifier of like, this is cool. Yes. Like what you're experiencing right now is very cool. Well, Ehrman says like it's highly concentrated like Vitamin C, I guess, and concise, but it's still very lighthearted. Yeah. Now since Vitamin C was a single, Can needed a B side. So they quickly recorded yet another classic that builds on the jazz influenced guitar part Michael Corolli played on Vitamin C. In fact, I'd say this session marks an evolution for Michael Corolli, a moment in which he sheds his psychedelic skin and becomes something different altogether. But when the rest of the band joins in, I'm So Green, the B side becomes a casual, almost jaunty strolling song as if Can was visiting Sesame Street for the day. Oh, the cool, that would be great. The amazing. Why does so many Croutratt guitar lines sound like spiders? Spiders like the animal. I don't know what they are. The arachnid. Yeah. Yeah. That's up to me that little riff. It just sounds like a spider. I'm a little too. I hear nothing but spiders. Huh. Okay. That's, I think we've talked about this before and I think my answer was also, huh. I'm not sure how to make, what did I make of this? Musings. Oh no, that's great. I love your musings. I do. It's great. So as we said in the last episode, the guys from Can had since moved on from Castle Norvinch to this abandoned movie theater in the town of a little help here. Weilischwist. That's right. This old abandoned movie theater, this is a huge space so they could spread out more and evolve their sound. And space is a big thing here. It is key to Can right now in every way. But even though they were doing well, you know, getting recognition, being financially stable and able to grow creatively than the way they want, there was still some tension with these guys. Mostly because they had a responsibility to the record label. Remember Siggilock, head of United Artists? He asked them for a new album and gave them a deadline of June 1972. What's the time with this deadline given? I don't know. Sometime before June 1972. Can I get an echo? June 1972. And I'm not sure if it was June 1st, but let's say it was June 1st. Just to make it really scary, right? A Rint. Okay, so Can, they had been touring England until the middle of May. And since then they've worked in the studio every day but only finished three songs for the album. That was due June 1st, 1972. But Can had entered a place of self-doubt. Sometimes it happens when you score a hit song or maybe they just weren't confident with the material they were working on, which is probably why the night before the deadline, they only had three songs more or less finished. They had Pinch, a really cool rocking song. One more night, another chill song with a great beat. And this song that Damo actually came up with the idea for, he started singing some words or humming them and the guys took his lead and bam, there it was. Sing Swan Song. Love this fucking song. The weird little sound here, it's an instrument called a flexitone. And we got one. Well I actually, I used to have one of these when I was in many bands, I carried it from band to band and annoy the shit out of every band on the way. This is what it sounds like. George is hiding. I love a flexitone. No, it's cool. It sounds cool but I can see how it's annoying. Yeah, I tried to put it into any song in every song that I could and it never made it into any song ever because I'm not Jackie Leavisite. Okay. I couldn't figure it out. So we're still at the night before the deadline to deliver a whole album, remember? And there's only three songs that Cam wrote but unfortunately they are not 20 minutes each so they need to fill up this record. And Cam, they weren't going to use their singles. They were like, you know, people already bought these songs on the singles, why buy them again? But now we need them. We need these singles now. But since they were out of time, they decided, okay, the singles go on the record too. Let's see, Spoon, that was a good one. And then Vitamin C, people like that. And it's B-side, I'm so green. Just throw it all on there. Okay, now we only have 10 minutes of the record to fill. So let's hook up our instruments, Holger, Press Record and let's just play something, anything. And I know this is saying a lot but this is the most spontaneous song in the history of Can because they played it all in real time until the 10 minutes were up. They did a few quick edits and slapped it on the record, done, cut, print, that's a wrap. Here it is, it's called Soup. You know what, that's not bad. No, it's not, it's pretty good. Considering how they had to fill 10 minutes of tape on the spot, that's not bad. But that's just the first section of Soup. Within five minutes, the song detonates in the sort of sonic explosion that's usually saved for Can's live shows. These moments, called Godzilla's by the band, would build up using Jackie's rhythmic energy that completely melt down into pure pandemonium, which, depending on your taste, could either be accidental genius or pure masturbation. There can be both. And so on and so forth for five minutes. That is totally the assignment with the double margins made the night before. And I like it. I respect it more. I like that I know how these songs get made and I think that's why I enjoy them more. Yeah. But as soon as those 10 minutes were up and the LP was filled, Damo and Erman went right back to their chessboard like the fucking nerds that they were. Yeah, they did piss off Holger and Michael a lot because they kept playing chess and they're like, guys, it's time to play. It's like, okay, your move. Everyone just put the board in the bathroom because I don't trust anyone. And then they would go and play. Like it was part of the tension. It was part of the tension. I mean, they had two weeks, what it sounds like, two weeks to finish this fucking record. And Erman and Damo sitting there just playing chess the whole fucking time. But no matter how it was finished, can turned in their fourth album on the day of the deadline. And for both the album artwork and the name, the band again came upon them completely by chance. Just like Jackie had come up with the name Tago Mago after seeing a street sign in Barcelona that said Tago Mago. Erman Schmidt was walking past a shop selling Turkish food and saw a can of okra in the window display. Specifically, it was Egean okra, which in Turkish translates to Ege Bamiase. That's the best I can do in Turkish. But the most incredible part about the can was that the name of the company that canned the okra was can, which in Turkish translates to mean life and is pronounced John. So the band just took a fucking photo of a can of okra and gave their fourth album, which everyone anglicizes, to Ege Bamiase, one of the most iconic album covers of the 70s. Yes, Erman even sent a letter to the company Life or Can. John. Yes, the can, the ones who can these okra beans, right? His letter was very German though, because he wrote it in English. He was like, we are a rock group. Our name is Can and we will use a photograph of your product on our record sleeve. You notice he's not even asking. That's good promotion for you in Germany. So can we get 50 cans of Ege Bamiase for free? That was seriously his question. He sent in this letter really excited for this warholian idea that he had about having all these cans everywhere for when the album comes out. But just a few weeks later he got a letter from the company, actually from the lawyer of the company saying, don't use our name, in fact lose our address. I never mentioned Ege Bamiase again. And the guys were like, yeah, that's not going to happen. But they never heard from that Turkish company again. They didn't. Well, I think the company said, you can't even use the name Can. Yeah. Now, Ege Bamiase was the first Can album to get an American release. But while it didn't make much of an immediate impact, we did find exactly one review of the album from a short-lived national music magazine called Zoo World that operated out of Fort Lauderdale, Florida. The writer's take on Ege Bamiase was that it sounded like an import from a similar but wholly alien planet instead of just from another country. You said that too. I did say that too. But in all, the review was positive. They called the album a strange amalgam of the most intense pop chaos ever pressed on vinyl. But the reviewer mostly focused on what he believed to be the genius of the filler song Soup, which proves my earlier statement that judgment on Can's noise is all in the ears of the beholder. Yes, it's also in the ears of the audience that are about to behold Can's next European tour in 1973. You see, they had to wait a bit after Ege Bamiase was released because Michael Corolla collapsed and suffered a perforated ulcer. I know it's nasty, but it's something about it being tense in the studio. Maybe could it be stress or that hash that they would smoke all the time? Probably both. It's a pie chart of things that probably happened. But you know what? Michael was back on his feet again. He's only 25 years old. So it's remarkable how he can get this ulcer done in like a month. He bounces back. Yes. And the band went back to the UK. They hung out with their British friends again. Domo and Lemmy from Hawkwind are tight. So Holger and Brian Eno. I think they were roommates at one point later on, or at least Holger thinks so. I mean, I just can't imagine that room, that blind at the bar of Domo Suzuki, Lemmy Killmeister, Brian Eno and Holger Chuke, like the four of them at a bar. Yes. And it happened all the time, reading tarot cards, chilling out. So the guys in Cannes also got to meet new and expected fans of their music. Like when they played Glasgow, Scotland, there were these huge biker type dudes who stormed the stage during the show. And Ehrman, Ehrman actually described these guys as real Vikings. And one of these gigantic Vikings locked eyes with Ehrman and walked straight up to him and gave him the biggest bear hug ever as a gratitude for the music that made this huge guy so happy. And Ehrman ended up with a couple of broken ribs and his glasses probably bent and broken, but he was grateful nonetheless. And another biker guy, there were a lot of these biker guys. It happens. You guys have it too. When you guys go to the Netherlands and stuff, they just enjoy a lot of art. Absolutely. And that's the thing is this is also a time period when like rock and roll and bikers like shit can go wrong really fast. Yes. But one of them, one of these big biker guys, he actually said that his stutter was cured from watching Cannes show in Bristol, England. But then it did come back a few days later, but there was still something special and magical about that. Of course. But again, Cannes, especially Cannes Live is not for everyone. Ian McDonald from Enemy, New Musical Express, he said the guys were untogether. You couldn't hear or understand Dommel's vocals. Well, yeah, duh. And the sound was quote bad. And Michael Corolli's guitar playing was quote inept. Then Ian made a Hitler joke. Yeah. I know. He could do better than that. He does get better than that. He does get better than that. Although that was very, very, very common when anyone was writing about Croc Walk at the time. Yeah. It was even hack by then though. Nice to see Adolf Hitler on Vibes though. Jesus Christ. I know. But Dommel he redeems himself. He writes a great book on the Beatles. You should check it out. Yeah. I mean, it's also a little better than the other, what I think the Lester Bangs article about Kraftwerk. Like the Germans are coming when they actually had like pictures from Nuremberg in the fucking article. Oh, God. Yeah. They thought it was very funny. Everyone at the time thought it was very funny. Okay. Okay. So after a long tour that included Paris and several cities in Germany, the guys in Cannes were ready to take a break. That means going on vacation or what the Europeans like to call going on holiday, which means six weeks off or six months off. Lucky bastards. I know. That's the thing is that what we're about to talk about like these sound, it sounds like the gallivanting of, you know, a bunch of fucking like rich kids. They're not. This is just how Europeans fucking live. And that's how we don't live. So well, they're very close to a lot of other countries. Exactly. So it's not, yeah. So it may sound like hoity, toity rich people, but no, they're just, it's just how they get to live. Yes. And a lot of times it's just going by boat hitchhiking. That's what they all do. Yeah. And he went to Southeast Asia. Well, I mean, not hitchhiking. I think he took a boat. Well, Dammo, he went back to Japan to visit his family for the first time in six years. Even brought his new wife with him. Yes. Dammo got married to a nice German girl named Gitta. Hey, Mazeltaf. Mazeltaf. Ermann took Hildegard and their kids to the south of France and enjoyed the fine food, the fine wine, and of course the extremely kind and generous French locals. I'm not being facetious. I swear. Look at my face. I'm generous. Very much so. The French locals. All of them. All, every single one of them. Including taxi drivers. So kind and generous. Especially, look at my face. I see it's very serious and sincere. Now Michael Corolli, he went somewhere he really loved. He went to the Portuguese coast and spent his time there soaking up the sun, Alas, Cheryl Crow, and having drinks by the bar on the beach. He just had an ulcer, but he's 25. He could do this. And it was there that Michael was inspired to make a new kind of ambient type music. While Michael was standing at the cliffs near the sounds of the sea, listening to the waves and the fluttering of the wind with the sand and all that stuff and everything, he made sure to make a mental note or mental tape recorder note for a song that would appear on Cannes next album, Bel Air. So this is a headphones on song. Yes. Okay, so Michael said he found an echo machine to make the sounds of the cliff like he remembered them on holiday. And he even got Irmin to make that sound of the wind or make the wind sound like Michael was right there on the sandy beaches of Portugal. It's all, it's very cool. Yeah. And it's a huge departure, but it's also considered one of Cannes greatest achievements. It's influenced one ways that reverberate to this day. I mean, listen to that and it reaches so many different corners. Listen to that and compare it to like the Minecraft soundtrack. It's damn similar. And that's just the first minute of the song. But concerning those minutes, Bel Air is yet another 20 minute song that takes up a whole side of the album. You see, now we only have to write like four songs. That really helps us a lot. Beginning with Michael Corolli's sonic interpretation of his vacation spot, Bel Air is one of Cannes greatest journeys, a near symphonic piece made up of movements that go through various stages of relaxation and beauty in the first 10 minutes. But as the song progresses, it morphs into something closer to Amanduul Tu's disturbing masterpiece, Fallis Day. God's Cuck. Every time. Bel Air is like a dream that starts at the best pool party in the world, but turns into a nightmare where you're walking from room to room in a house you don't know, while something terrifying yet unknown follows close behind. This is 12 minutes after that last clip you just heard. Oh, fuck, I got out of the pool to use the bathroom and now I don't know where I am. At least you got out of the pool to use the bathroom. I don't know if you remember that one time we had that party at the Airbnb we rented that weekend and everyone, everyone from LPN was there and we were passing out Pacifico's all night and I was the only one that used the bathroom. Me and you, both. Yes. We were the only ones that got out of that pool in like five hours. Luckily it was a rental. Sorry, I just outed literally everyone from LPN. It was a pool pier. Hold it. Henry. Oh my God, it was everyone. Natalie, everyone was there. Everyone, ever. But despite the dark place that Bel Air reaches, the rest of the album was far closer to the scene Michael Corolli crafted for the beginning of the song. This would be the final album that completes the trifecta of Cannes most revered releases future days. And here is one of the albums most popular tracks and one of Cannes most popular songs. Carolina's one of the most favorite songs. Moonshake. It's groovy. It's groovy. I mean, it's 1973 through and through. It's a romper. It's loungy. It's so cool that it was used in the background of a Kettle One commercial about chic Europeans that just sort of do their own thing, you know? Just drinking vodka from water bottles and right before their shift. Yeah, that kind of cool. Very cool. But this vibe isn't surprising considering how the idea of the song started with the band trying to replicate the sound of a motorboat plugging along the river Rhine. And those sorts of interpretations of everyday sounds informed a lot of what Cannes did with future days. See, the summer of 1973, when Cannes recorded this album, it was an absolutely beautiful summer, idyllic even. So Cannes left the door to their studio wide open throughout the future day's sessions. They captured children next door jumping into the pool, birds chirping and the sounds of Volkswagen's driving down the road, all of which can be heard on the quiet moments of the album. This technique came as a direct influence of avant-garde composer John Cage. Yes, John Cage. We have talked about him in the Velvet Underground series. He is a super avant-garde composer. He is the Captain America of avant-garde composers. He really is. If you've heard of any avant-garde composer you've heard of John Cage. Exactly. His work is very tied into his philosophy of the freedom that music can be anything as long as there's a point to it. And if there isn't, well, maybe that's the point. I know. Read his book Silence. I've been reading it. Of course, I've been napping and getting up and reading it again. It is very good. So John Cage, he was a pioneer in experimenting with what you can do with the idea of music or sounds or noise. What is it? The sounds of ice cubes in a bathtub with flowers and a pressure cooker? That's John Cage's piece, Water Music. It's on Spotify. John Cage's idea of the freedom to make music anything or anything music is part of what inspired Herman to make Cannes a reality. Herman loved the freedom of no rules unless you make the rules. But then again, you don't have to follow them. It gives you the freedom to make art, use it or don't. I don't care. That's the whole point of it. It's great. John Cage is also famous for his piece, 433, the hero in 1952. Now 433 means the amount of time the song takes. It's three movements. And according to John Cage's instructions, it can be played with any instrument or combination of instruments. And when I say played, I mean not played at all. The instruments don't matter, but the silence does. And we talked about this. It is all about an exercise in listening. That means you don't play anything. So a ton of artists, we just found this out recently. A ton of artists and bands have actually covered 433. A box set was released in 2019 by Mute Records. By the way, love Mute Records. I love Daniel Miller. You're one of my favorites. And this song, 433, is covered by bands like New Order, The Peshmode, Liars, Erasure, artists like Jan Tearson, and Ermin Schmidt too. He's one of my favorites. Actually his is really good. So let's play a clip of Ermin Schmidt's cover of 433. And then I want to play just a little bit of the Liars. Sure, of course. I like it. Yeah, and that's how Ermin Schmidt interpreted 433. Let's hear how Liars interpreted 433. God, I love this one. Okay. Because I'm also just a fucking massive Liars fan, but it's so... I love Liars. I love Liars. Right? I like that. I love it. It's recognizably Liars. If you were asking me to guess, it's like, who's doing this 433? I'd be like, that sounds like Liars. I'm going to request it at their next show. 433! Well, they only play the last album. That's their whole rule. Okay. So as far as this box set from Mute Records, of all the covers of 433, you can order them in CD or vinyl set. And I'm just saying this. I actually bought that. I bought it for $15 on Mute. So we're just saying this because we like it. Or you can also listen to the whole thing on Spotify. It's like four discs. It's all there. It's called STUM 433 STUM 433. But if you buy them from Mute Records, the profits are split between the British Tinnitus Association, which is very nice, and Music Minds Matter, which is about mental health and using music as a therapeutic way. I really appreciate that, actually. Yeah, that's incredible. The BTA. Good for that. Now, back to the early 60s, John Cage... Avangard music is all just a big fucking joke. It is! Oh my God, you finally got it! You finally just put a toilet on an exhibit. And that's it. Yeah. Okay. So now back to the early 60s. John Cage also experimented with contact microphones. He would put them in his piano or on furniture to augment the sounds of not just the music being played, but the environment around it. Remember, John Cage did that with his viola, and so did Tony Conrad with his instruments. You see, that's key, using the accidental or unintentional sounds of the environment as part of your music. Ermin Schmitt, who's known John Cage since the late 50s, and has even played with him once or twice, he remembers a time he saw John Cage and David Tudor do a concert in Cologne where Cage had a contact mic on his throat. So whenever he'd take a sip of water, the noise of the gurgling would be heard loudly by everyone in that room, and I know that's grossing out people, but just thinking about it. There's a scene in the movie Naked Gun that explains what I'm trying to describe by clipping in a urinal, but that was not a contact mic. That was more of an open air mic, but imagine a contact mic that only feeds off the vibrations of the sound. Just put it on Leslie Nielsen's junk. Or inside the urinal. And I was going to play a clip of that, but I thought like that's too joking even for Cannes. Okay. And it's that kind of thinking that inspired Ermin Schmitt. So one day in the studio, Domo was sitting on a beanbag chair because this is the 70s, baby. And he had a microphone in his hand, and when he sat down, everyone could hear the rustling of the beanbag, you know, the little beads or the little plastic bits of whatever. Exactly. So Ermin said, Domo, put that mic further into the beanbag. So Domo put the microphone between his legs, grazing his taint, and then proceeded to move his butt to get this noise. This atmospheric noise set the basis for the title track to Future Days. The track called Future Days. And that's Domo blowing bubbles. Not like the, of a bong. It's different. It's blowing. It's not sucking. Marcus, you have quite an ear. I know what a bong sounds like. You could see John Cage's influence in the whole idea of Ken, the way they jam and compose together. It's a very Cajian idea. And how they made Future Days, keeping the door open and letting the birds join in, using the space and anyone or anything in it as part of the song. That is Ken. It is. Now, speaking of space, once the song Future Days starts to really get going, it feels like the soundtrack of a man inside a spaceship. Now we're going to different kind of space. But this is not the terror of space, Audity. Instead, this song's exotica beat harkens back to a 1950s version of space, when spacecraft happily puttered to the moon and back. As guitarist Michael Corolli put it, he merged the idea of a Jules Verne type 19th century spaceship with the silver surfer, the comic book character, whose power cosmic lifted Corolli into outer space. Future Days was the result. This is a very relaxed record. From let's say a song like Aum. Yes, Irmin called Future Days harmonic and Holger said it was their most symphonic of all of Ken records. And he said it reached number one in Argentina at one point. Oh, I've undervised that somebody in Argentina had a taste for the German music. I know, right? That took me a minute. I think we have a minute to. I don't think he was making a joke, but I mean, god damn it. Yeah, there was a bit of a community already in Argentina. And of course, Michael Corolli was really happy with it because this is the album Future Days where he had the most influence. He was able to incorporate his own inspired sounds and make it music. And even though Michael was much younger, remember, he's like 25 at the time and the rest are in their mid 30s, except for Dommel. Michael, he didn't feel like a junior or a champ or a buddy or of the group, you know? Each person had a right to their opinion when it came to the music they made. That's a rule in Ken. Everyone's opinion counts equally and you can say whatever you want to. Jackie Levisite said it was shit. That's an actual quote. That song Future Days is shit. It's too symphonic. I thought we were trying to keep it simple, but now we have these stitched together long form movements that go through inexplicable variations instead of one monotonous rhythm pattern. That's what I thought we were talking about. I don't know. This feels like an angry slumber party. I thought we were going to do it a different way. And now we're doing it too symphonic. All right. I'm going to call my mom. I thought that Jennifer was supposed to bring the twister. And then she did it. And now we're playing Pictionary. And this slumber party that I signed up for. Jackie never gets invited to these things. And Jackie was even more mad. The whole Future Days to track just the whole album. He's like, Bel Air, what is that? Just a bunch of samples from electronic boxes constructed all together to make the sounds of the sea. Like this is a landlocked country, Jackie. I don't care. It's too artificial. And it's getting too complicated. And if we keep going this way, the music will die. And then Jackie reaches for a music magazine, Enemies, New Musical Express. Actually, he's like, let's see what Ian McDonald has to say about this crap. Oh, look, it says Bel Air is the most impressive thing Ken has ever recorded. Future Days is sheer good music. And it's perfectly easy for anyone with a pair of ears attached to their heads to get into and thoroughly enjoy. Forget the Krat Rock tag. Forget how you're supposed to react. Just get this record. And Jackie, I think, shut up for the rest of the day. I think I'm going to go out back and I'm just going to play with my saxophone for a little while. No one come bother me. Just let him go outside. Just let him go outside. Now like Jackie, Domo wasn't too impressed with Future Days back in 1973. For him, it was missing the freak out moments of early can too tame by far. But Domo's opinion may have been influenced by the fact that he'd already started pulling away from the band. His spirituality had begun creeping into Domo's life. And while he first found answers in psychedelics, he started finding a truth that spoke more to his soul when he just sat down and read the Bible. Now the other members of Ken all say that this newfound spiritual path was influenced by his wife, Gitta, who was a Jehovah's Witness. And Domo himself had also become a Jehovah's Witness. But Domo finally cleared up this rumor in his autobiography. Now he wrote that his wife actually wasn't as religious as she's been made out to be over the years. And it was actually his mother-in-law who really got him into the Bible. Still happened. But besides that, Domo just didn't like being famous in Germany. Because he was the most recognizable member of the group, he was constantly being bothered for autographs. And he found that being a pop star just made him uncomfortable. Yeah, so in October 1973, just a month after Future Days was released, Domo was in the vocal booth getting ready for a TV segment that they were going to do on Ken when he realized he was bored and unhappy. And to be fair, he'd been sitting there alone for hours waiting for them to finish setting up. So he was really in his thoughts for a while. And that was the moment that he realized he didn't want to be a part of this anymore. So he shouted something about not wanting to be here. And he stuffed the microphone in his pocket and stormed out of the studio. He was done with Ken for good. Was it his microphone? Yes, it actually was. It actually was. And later on, Domo said that he did like Future Days a lot. It was very good musically for him. But it was easy to quit from Ken after that because he felt satisfied with the music he contributed. But he wanted to begin a new life. I mean, he is a wanderer. Yeah, I mean, it's surprising that he stayed for as long as he did. Yeah, I mean, this is just a stop in his life. Yeah, three and a half albums is still pretty fucking good for a guy who never stood still for more than a couple years at most. Yes. Now, it had never been easy for Ken to find a vocalist. But now that Domo was gone, Ken once again needed someone like Domo or Malcolm Mooney, who could both balance madness and discipline in their own distinctive ways. As Ken half seriously put it, the only guy that could fill Malcolm and Domo's shoes was someone like Captain Beefheart, who was unfortunately otherwise engaged at the time being Captain Beefheart. That would be great. And he'd just be narrating the whole thing. Incredible. And so after Domo, the band continued with Michael Corolli singing some of the tracks on their next album, Soon Over Babaluma. But that didn't really work either. They were soon after released from United Artists in November of 1974. So Hildegard got the band a new deal at Virgin Records with Richard Branson. But with a new label came new expectations to deliver, and more singers were tried to no avail. After a brief stint with a Malaysian singer named Tyga Rajarajaratnam, who was unable to capture the Domo magic, Ken auditioned a singer named Michael Cousins, aka Magic Mike. And this is where Ken takes a very weird turn into a racy, racy time. No, I'm kidding. He's actually like, I think they call him Magic Michael, but then later they shorten into Magic Mike, and now we're all thinking about the movie we all saw 10 years ago. No, with Magic Mike as the front man, Ken had begun playing a lively little floor on the floor track during live shows that had a number of working titles that all revolved around the word goose, like Gooseag or Goosey Goosey. That's because Magic Mike was doing nursery rhymes. I think at one point he was just out of ideas, and he was just like Humpty Dumpty. Well, it's like Malcolm Mooney improvising constant. Mary, Mary, so contrary. Yes. You gotta go with what you know. It was another wild departure for a band that had tried on damn near every style short of recording a country album, a song almost reminiscent of T-Rex songs like Jeeper. Here it is in a live recording during the brief period that Magic Mike fronted the band. Oh, Goosey Goosey, Goosey the laughter, tell me where you're going. If you told me that was Ken, I'd say fuck you. No, I would say that's Magic Mike for less show. By the time the band entered the studio to record this track in mid-1976, Magic Mike had been boot off the stage enough times where the band had to accept that he wasn't the right man for the job. So when it came time to record this new song, Ken figured that they should sing it, all of them. And after their sound man contributed the title and lyrics, Ken slowed down Goosey Goosey and made a fucking disco song called I Want More. So Jackie has said it was not our intention to jump on the disco train. It just happened. It's 1976. I don't think you can avoid this. It's just everywhere. And the thing is, I Want More is a hit. It's their biggest hit. And it's a hit in the UK charts for 10 weeks in the summer of 1976. That's crazy. It even peaked at number 26 at the end of August. Why? Because they were invited to play at or mime or whatever at the top of the pops. Like one of their most popular, you know, music like British shows that they would do performances at. And they all went except they couldn't find Michael Corolla because he was on Safari in Kenya. So they just got another guy. They just put a dude in there because you don't sing on top of the pops. Yeah. Well, I mean, he was just kind of standing there playing with it like an afro. Just this white British dude just pretending to fit in and watch it on YouTube. Top of the pops, Ken, I Want More, live or something like that. It's really fun. It's great. Now, that's the thing is that this song technically makes Ken a one hit wonder in the UK. Yes, it actually does. Now, with the money Ken made from I Want More, they continued to evolve, but not necessarily in a positive way. Instead of following the creativity, Ken began to follow the technology. They bought a 16 track mixing board to keep up with the times, lest they become old hippies stuck in their ways left behind by German contemporaries like Kraftwerk. But ultimately, multi-tracking is what killed Ken. You were before the entire band would record together for hours at a time, instant composing so Holger could cut and paste the results. The band was now often coming in separately to record their individual parts. Yeah. And Michael actually said it was beneficial to him because when he had to sing, he couldn't sing and play guitar at the same time. So it worked for some of them. And we also, you have to be totally honest like Michael Corolli in the classic Ken albums. There's a lot of fucking mistakes. There actually are. But that's part of the flavor of the sauce. Just like Amandoul too. Like there's a lot of mistakes and fall of stake. Yes, there are actually. They didn't even tune their instruments. But now that they're coming in individually, Holger and Jackie would maybe record the backing track then Ermin or Michael would come in later to record keyboards or guitar. But the point is that they were doing it by themselves. And since these members could come in on their own, they could play their parts over and over again until they were satisfied instead of going with takes that weren't perfect, but were still magical. As a result, the music became overworked and the spontaneous magic of Ken was lost. Yeah, sometimes you can overthink things. Oh yeah. So Holger at this point, he became uncertain with his role with the band because if the machine can do it for you, what is he going to do? He was the genius and now the genius is in that machine. And even more conflict was created when Holger decided to try to introduce shortwave radio or Morse code and other noises instead of vocals because he's like, I got the idea of no one wants to do vocals. We're just going to do this weird shit and we're going to see what happens spontaneously. Yes. But no one was going for it. Holger felt isolated and he noticed that he just didn't fit in with the band anymore. And like no one was talking to him. Ermin did say that Holger suffered the most because he was picked on. He was criticized a lot by the other members in Ken because remember, Holger was responsible for the recording technology. If something broke or didn't work, it's Holger's fault. But he had to keep up his bass playing. But then again, Jackie thought his bass playing sucked now that he finally learned how to play it right. It's the punk paradox. It's because Jackie was like, I loved it when Holger had no idea how to play bass. It was original. It was really cool. And then now he's like everyone else. Yeah, it's the Peter Hook thing. It was like the reason why Joy Division's bass parts are so incredibly inventive is because Peter Hook didn't know how to play bass. Exactly. And he's completely toned down. It's great. OK, so Ermin admits decades later that Holger's idea about samples instead of vocals might have worked. It was actually a typical Ken idea, but they had already drifted too far apart at this point. And after that, Holger knew his time with the band was over. So he left in 1977. And in his opinion, Ken made the mistake of aiming too high and losing sight of the foundation of their music. The commercial aspect became too important and his ideas just didn't fit in with Ken anymore. And the thing is, Ken actually started out by not fitting in together, yeah, which was part of what made them can. Ermin even said, we weren't like most groups who started out as friends or schoolmates. We came from different points of view to hyper focus on one sound. Actually, I've always been amazed that we were able to form Ken at all. And as far as their creative collaborations, after 10 years of working intensely together, Jackie compares it to a piece of rubber or a rubber band, or I would say a hair scrunchie. If you stretch it too long over time, it becomes floppy. And with Ken, once a rubber band was stretched to the max too many times and their sense of togetherness was lost, the rest of the band went their own separate ways at the end of 1978. Now, while Ken was in the process of breaking up, not everyone knew that they were winding things down. So in 1978, Ermin Schmidt got a phone call at 3 a.m. from none other than John Leiden, AKA Johnny Rotten. And I did the math. It was 2 a.m. in England. And 3 a.m. in Germany. So either way was really late. See, as far as we can tell, this call came just after Leiden had quit as the lead singer of the Sex Pistols. He'd been a massive fan of Ken going back to Tago Mago. And since he knew that Ken had never really settled on a vocalist since Damo left, Leiden figured it wouldn't hurt to ask if Ken might be willing to give him a shot as the front man. But despite Leiden being one of the most famous singers in Europe at that time, Ermin regretfully had to inform him that Ken were already in the process of breaking up. So his services would unfortunately not be needed. And so from what we can tell, it seems like John Leiden's next move was to assemble the legendary post-punk group Public Image Limited, who released their debut album in December of that same year. And I think this sounds a bit like Ken. So John Leiden wasn't the only person who desperately wanted to sing with Ken. Mark E. Smith, the founder, lead singer and principal lyricist of the band The Fall, really wanted to sing with Ken too. Even if it was just once, maybe, like for a minute, anything. And Mark, he actually didn't believe Ermin would get over those several phone calls when Ermin said, Ken, we're not we're not playing live gigs anymore. Please stop calling. Mark was insistent. He even later told Ermin, Ken saved my life. Ermin, you saved my fucking life. I even bought Soon Over of Boba Luna. And Ermin even said like it wasn't a bad album. Whatever. Whatever. God, he can't help but be an asshole. So no dice for Mark. But that's OK. Mark finally got to immortalize one of his favorite vocalists in a song by the fall called I Am Damo Suzuki. Stands in a club named Mark Tepats. Jones, come in. When Jones comes in fast, when Jones gets a shock, it's a glass of evil. What have you got in that paper bag? Is it a dose of fentanyl C.E. Ain't got no time for Western Red Sun. I Am Damo Suzuki. I Am. Nice. It's got a little, oh yeah, feel to it, right? Oh yeah. And there's all these different, like it's just full of references to Ken. Like there's a line, like who is Mr. Stockhausen, you know, like stuff like that. Like Marky Smith knew his shit. And no, that wasn't like two songs played at the same time. That's just the fall. So you know, when Damo first heard that song, I Am Damo Suzuki, his first thought was that there must have been another Damo Suzuki that was better known in him. And wow, that guy gets a song. And as we said, Ken is super influential and there's so many bands and artists who love them and their music. Some of them might sound a little like a Ken song or many of them don't sound like Ken at all. No. Like John Cage's effect on Ken themselves. There's a huge list of artists who name check Ken or sample them, cover them, played with them, has been roommates with them. There's a long list. Besides John Lydon and Marky Smith, there's Jeff Barrow from Portishead Radiohead. Of course, Johnny Greenwood put Vitamin C in the movie Inherent Vice. The Flaming Lips, Buzzcocks, Mark Bowlin, Hawkwind, Brian Eno, Talk Talk, Mars Volta, All Roads, Lead the Ken, Stereo Lab, definitely. Sonic Youth and Steve Malkimus, just to name a few. Oh yeah, enjoy Division Primal Scream Suicide and Blur. I'm sure I'm missing like 10 other bands. Oh my God, you're probably missing 10,000 other bands. Now when it comes to what the members of Ken did after Ken broke up, my personal favorite solo career belongs to Holger Chuke. See after spending a couple of years, and this is a direct quote, a couple of years in really intense communication with plants. Sometimes you have to do that. Sometimes Holger returned to his roots, so to speak. Going back to the cut and paste tape editing techniques that were no longer being used by the time Ken ended, Holger proved himself to be the funny one and Ken, or at least the strange one, by recording a slew of highly underrated and innovative albums that were heavy on sampling. I fucking love Holger Chuke's fucking movies. The Austin is wrought, they're fucking amazing. They're very good. Holger's playfulness resulted in a sort of surrealist pop that was best exemplified in an almost flirty little disco not disco number released in 1979. And I gotta admit that outside of probably like Turtles I Have Short Legs, I've probably listened to this song more than any song can ever released. Let's get cool in the pool. This is great. This is really great. Wow. Cool together. And that's Holger using all of those techniques that he wanted to use way back in Ken and they're fucking incredible. The short wave, the fucking the opera that he samples later, the French horn, like he was right. He was fucking right. It did work for him. It did work beautifully for him. And as for Damo, after he left Ken, he stayed in Cologne for a few months. I think he was waiting to maybe hear from them, but he said he didn't even get a call. So Damo left Cologne for Dusseldorf with his wife, Gitta, and had two sons. He spent the next few decades working in a hotel as a night porter then in construction and finally in a Japanese company in Germany still, where he worked in the management department. Damo went into management? Yes. I mean, he stayed in Germany. That's not surprising. But yes, well, he had two sons. He had a family. Right. And although he'd go back and visit, he'd never moved back to Japan again. He even said himself, I don't think I'm Japanese. I'm some kind of German who speaks Japanese very well. So later in the 80s, Damo was diagnosed with colon cancer and had to endure several surgeries. And it didn't help that he refused a blood transfusion due to his religious beliefs, which made his diagnosis worse with only a 20% chance of survival. But he did survive. He recovered and soon after he quit the Jehovah's Witnesses. Thank you. He preferred to find his own spirituality in other ways. Damo's near-death experience also reignited his passion for music and pretty soon he was playing with local musicians all over Germany. He fronted the Damo Suzuki band with Jackie Levisite on drums. They didn't have a bass player in the band because Jackie insisted on no bass player. And later, Damo started the Damo Suzuki Network and a very well-known never-ending tour where he'd play with local musicians and stops all over the world. He played in over 40 countries and in places as remote as the Himalayas. But then after 10 years of fighting his returning colon cancer, Damo Suzuki passed away on February 9th, 2024 in his home in Cologne. R.I.P. to a legend. Of course. Now, Malcolm Mooney is alive. Yes. He's alive. Malcolm left Cannes in Germany in late 1969 and after spending time recovering from his mental and physical health issues, he went back to school and received his BFA from Boston University School of Fine Arts. And later his MFA from California State University. Malcolm did loosely keep in touch with Cannes, especially when they reunited in 1986 to release their one-off Cannes original members reunion album, Right Time, which is a fun time. Yeah. It's a right time. Yes. It's a night time. Yes. And Malcolm also released three albums with the 10th planet calling the collaboration Malcolm Mooney and the 10th planet. But later in 2019 he started a new project called The 11th Planet, which included Sonic Youth drummer Steve Shelley, among others. That's incredible. Yeah. Yeah. And Malcolm, he's taught in universities. He's continued his artwork. He's to date. He's had over 40 exhibitions at museums, galleries, colleges, colleges, and he's still performing music and making art to this day. And Malcolm, he actually did meet Damos Suzuki at one point in the late 80s. I saw a clip of that in the Cannes DVD. Get it? It's a little awkward and Damos looks a lot shorter. Yes. When you see them together. Damos tiny. Yes. And Malcolm and Damos, they became friends. And when Damos passed away this past February, Malcolm eulogized him in a poem. Days have gone by. Can this be? A member has to say farewell, but joins other brothers in the sky. No need to cry. So Damos rest in power. And I mean, there's more to that poem. It's really beautiful. Check out Malcolm Mooney.com for that poem and his fantastic artwork. It is phenomenal. I'd love to have a Mooney originally. Yes, me too. If it's affordable, I will totally buy one. Now, concerning the man that could easily be considered Cannes founding member, Herman Schmidt, he also released a number of solo albums and an opera while composing over 40 film and TV scores in between. He was very highly sought out. Yes. But really, Herman's greatest endowment to the future is preserving the legacy of Cannes. Although one could say that the credit for that should mostly be given to his wife, Hildegard, their daughter, Sandra, and her husband, John O. Podmore. See, way back in 1979, Hildegard decided to bypass the entire record industry by founding a label called Spoon Records to handle the future release of all material by Cannes. Once again, they bet on themselves. And almost 50 years later, Spoon Records is still releasing Cannes music. Just two months ago, Spoon, in conjunction with Mute Records, Hi, Daniel Miller. They released a live recording from their archives, the fifth such release of a Cannes live show in the last three years. These releases are incredible documents of Cannes at their best and were all the richer for having access to tracks like this one from 1977. But perhaps, Herman Schmidt's most important contribution to the legacy of Cannes was the band's biography, All Gates Open. Which we used. Yep. Which, to Herman's best recollection, finally told the full story of one of the 20 most important records of Cannes. And it's a great record. And it's a great record. And it's a record of the best record of Cannes. And it's a record of the best record of Cannes. And it's a record of the best record of Cannes. And it's a record of the best record of Cannes. And a tribute to Herman's best recollection, finally told the full story of one of the 20th century's most important bands. I really wish he got some of the dates right. But he did get the stories right. And I thank you, Herman, so much for that. I like Caroline I mentioned earlier when she was talking about John Cage. Cannes wasn't ever trying to sound like Cage. Just like they were never trying to sound like Carl Hein, Stockhausen, Steve Reisch or Terry Riley. Instead, they were inspired by these artists. Not by what they did, but why they did it. Cannes sought out and experienced the sound above. And it led them down a path that was unimaginable when they started this band way back in 1968. But while the sound above is indeed important, both before and after Cannes, we can't lose sight of what Cannes itself actually was. See, the two words that have come up again and again in this series are magic and organism. And really, those words put together may be the best way to describe Cannes' music. It is a magical organism. Conjured into the world through a ritual of the band's own making. It's an ambitious thing. It's an example of what can be accomplished. And it's a goal to strive towards for all of us. Yes, yes. And this kind of ambition usually comes from a unique individual. Someone who's different, maybe nerdy. But someone who has something original to offer. It could be a young piano player who outed his Nazi teachers and got expelled for it. Nevertheless, Herman... Nazi teachers fuck off. Yes, exactly. Herman Schmidt nevertheless continued with his belief of changing the status quo in Germany and started a band that's equally German, but with none of the Nazi past. Sure, which is important. Or it could be someone like Holger Chouquet, an electronics nerd whose passion was to make music entertaining and creative, but most importantly, fun, including his wardrobe. And his mustache. Yes. He passed away in his studio in 2017, so R.I.P. R.I.P. and that shows his dedication. The men literally died doing what he lost. On his regular workday, basically. And there was Jackie Leibesite, also R.I.P. His discipline and austerity freaked everyone out sometimes, but it was that discipline and occasional assholeness that balanced the wayward form of Kant's instant composition. You also had Michael Corolli, whose guitar skills took them to a level they couldn't have achieved without him. Absolutely couldn't have. And these types of people exist everywhere in the world, not just in Germany. I mean, they also had American vocalist Malcolm Mooney, who pushed Kant in a new direction when the band was already growing stagnant just a year in. And you also had, of course, Damo Suzuki from Japan, who pushed the band to its highest creative levels with the sheer force of his spontaneity. And when it's all put together, Kant's best albums feel like living, breathing things. And perhaps that's why they're so important. People care for these albums and keep them alive, either with their love of listening or the inspiration they use to create more groundbreaking art, whatever that art may be. Holger Tchukke actually put it perfectly when he said that Kant gave younger generations an example of how to find their own identity by forgetting everything they learned before and starting like a newborn child. And with every new generation that discovers Kant, new avenues of creativity emerge. Yes. And those avenues always come with an unstoppable motion towards future days. And that's Kant, guys. That's Kant. That's Kant. All in four parts. How many hours? I don't know. But I want to give some big thank yous. Can I do this real fast? Give some massive shout-outs. Yes. Please, special thanks to Patrick Fisher, our research assistant and associate producer, who helped immensely with Kant. All the research, I mean, he let us use his brain to translate a bunch of stuff from German to English and a big shout-out to his papa, Mr. Fisher Sr., who also helped in translating some YouTube videos. Thank you very much. Thanks to Kelsey Netzer for all her help, very invaluable. And thanks to Emily Vota for her preliminary research. Thank you so much. And thanks to Rob. Rob Oki for editing this episode in the whole Kant series. He's amazing. Thank you, Rob. And our sources. Okay, here's their list. And we will put it on Instagram, noDogspot, if you want to check it out. Or email me at noDogsandspace at gmail.com. And I will find the source for you. Some people ask and they're like, oh, don't worry about it. You're too busy. I'm like, I'm waiting for a response. Please, just tell me what you want. Yeah. She loves the help. I do, actually. So our main source was All Gates Open, The Story of Kant by Ermin Schmidt and Rob Young. And we also used the Kant box book compiled by Hildegard Schmidt and Wolf Katman. It is a very, very important resource. I am Dama Zuzuki by Dama Zuzuki and Paul Woods. Really great read. Jackie Leavisite, The Life Theory and Practice of a Master Drummer edited by John O. Podmore. And also RIP Jackie Leavisite. Absolutely. He passed away in 2017. The Kant book by Pascal Bussey and Andy Hall. That one came out in the 80s. It's not super up to date, but it's still really fun. And Future Sounds by Christoph Dahlik. Couldn't find an English version. So thank you, Patrick, for translating that for us. And Begin Again, a biography of John Cage by Kenneth Silverman and the Crot Rock Sampler PDF. Not Julian Cope, although Julian Cope, you know, thumbs up to you and everything. But this Crot Rock Sampler is over 300 pages of interviews, articles, reviews of Crot Rock slash Jabotze's bands from Kant, Amanduul, DeKraftwerk, Tanoi and Faust. Check it out. If you can't find it, I will try to put it on somewhere. And of course, moredarkthanshark.org, such an incredible resource on Brian Eno. I know we didn't talk about Brian Eno, but we almost put him in two episodes. But it also has a ton of interviews of Kant and other German and British bands that Brian Eno championed and also worked with. And of course, a ton on Brian Eno and a million other things. Go down that rabbit hole, please. And then there's rocksbackpages.com. We always use them. And The Road Taken With C.T. and Beyo, a podcast by the guys of Vampire Weekend. They had a fantastic interview with Malcolm Mooney. It's top-notch interviewing and they just sound like great dudes. I love it. I don't think they've released anything recently, but I hope they do someday. And then the BBC documentary on minimalism, tones, and arpeggios, the magic of minimalism directed by Ben Whaley, presented by Charles Hazlewood. It is actually very entertaining. I love this documentary. It's two parts, too. The Kant DVD by Kant. Go get it. And also, we have t-shirts at Last Podcast Merch. We got three different kinds in men's and women's sizes. Check them out. Check out our Instagram on NoDogsPod and check out our livestream that is out. We're not doing August, unfortunately, because we will be out of town, but we will be back in September. And of course, as you know, we're going to be doing a new kind of music. We're going to go back to punk. We're going to do punk 2.0. Yeah, we're going to return to our roots. And we will be returning one day to talk about specifically like Brian Eno and his time in a little city called Berlin. Yes, we're definitely going to get into that sometime for sure. And any questions, suggestions, nice things to say, or passive aggressive things to say, please direct them to nodogsandspace.com and I or someone else will read them. Usually I, so be nice. And of course, I also pick the band of the week every single week. If you make noise, if you have a band, if you just are some person sitting in your room, making something that you think sounds cool, send it to us at nodogsandspace.com. And we'll take a listen. Our band to wrap up our can series is Miss Lonely out of Denashville, Tennessee. You can follow them on Instagram at Miss Lonely Band to see them live. I know they're touring around right now. You can stream them on Spotify or better yet, you can buy their music at misslonelyband.bandcamp.com. They remind me of a band that I was in back in the late 2000s. Band called DeAngenews. Very cool. But check out this song. This is one of their newest singles. It's called Frankenstein Valentine. I love it. Enjoy, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you so much for taking this fucking journey with us. Yes, we'll be back hopefully eventually. And we'll be back soon enough. Later on, y'all. Goodbye. Frankenstein Valentine. Under water my whole life. Frankenstein Valentine. In the dark but still their sight. Frankenstein Valentine. Druck on frequency and light. Frankenstein Valentine. We'll be sinkers into night. After fire fruits, yogurt. I'm never going back. So fruity, so thick. So gorgeous from the package called fire fruits, yogurt. It's a smooth and fruity snack. Gimme, gimme that fire. Passion fruit or strawberry flavor. My way and taste the coconut. Gimme that fire. Go down to shops for this fruity snack. After fire fruits, yogurt. There's no going back. Crisp, vibrant and bursting with citrus. Villamarilla's New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc is the perfect wine made to be enjoyed on every occasion. 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