Can
Tago Mago

We travel back in time to the distant year of 1971.
We are in a phase of rock history where everything still seemed possible. That Germany could be the vanguard of rock. That one of the best exponents of what would later be called Krautrock had a singer (singer?) who was a Japanese man named Suzuki picked up from the streets of Cologne. That madness and rationality could peacefully coexist side by side on the same record. That the music could be so visionary and forward-thinking to still be relevant more than thirty years later (relevant? Or perhaps so irrelevant as to be out of fashion, beyond trends and therefore imperishable).

Thus emerges Tago Mago, a double vinyl composed of only seven tracks (tracks also in the sense of signs, testimonies):

1. The still sweet and dreamy rock of "Paperhouse";
2. The obsessive beat and screams of "Mushroom";
3. The slow and majestic progress of "Oh Yeah," the true masterpiece of the album;
4. The funky-hypnotic rhythm of "Halleluhwah": 18 minutes of variations on a single rhythmic theme, almost primitive/primordial;
5. The absolute delirium of "Aumgn," a very long experimental piece made of effects, noises, and echoes;
6. The brilliant insights and tone shifts of "Peking O," the ideal soundtrack for an asylum;
7. The return to relative calm with "Bring Me Coffee Or Tea."

However, Tago Mago is a work that goes beyond its particular episodes. It is 360-degree exploration, experimentalism in the positive sense. Insatiable in its movement towards new horizons, in crossing boundaries.
For this reason, it also requires a certain patience and attention from the listener who must be ready to forgive some excesses, especially typical of the second part of the album.

The listener will be rewarded by the (re)discovery of a classic.