Finally, a brilliant exploration of the German rock band Can's 1971 album Tago Mago. This hugely unique and influential album deserves close analysis from a fan, rather than a musicologist. Novelist Alan Warner details the concrete music we hear on the album, how it was composed, executed and recorded--including the history of the album in terms of its release, promotion and art work. This tale of Tago Mago is also the tale of a young man obsessed with record collecting in the dark and mysterious period of pop music before Google. Warner includes a backtracking of the history of the band up to that point and also some description of Can's unique recording approach taking into account their home studio set up.Interviews with the two surviving drummer Jaki Liebezeit, keyboardist Irmin Schmidt and bassist Holger Czukay make this a hilariously personal and illuminating picture of Can.
Note: There is more than one Alan Warner, this is the page for the award-winning Scottish novelist. For books by other people bearing the same name see Alan Warner
Alan Warner (born 1964) is the author of six novels: the acclaimed Morvern Callar (1995), winner of a Somerset Maugham Award; These Demented Lands (1997), winner of the Encore Award; The Sopranos (1998), winner of the Saltire Society Scottish Book of the Year Award; The Man Who Walks (2002), an imaginative and surreal black comedy; The Worms Can Carry Me to Heaven (2006), and The Stars in the Bright Sky (2010), a sequel to The Sopranos. Morvern Callar has been adapted as a film, and The Sopranos is to follow shortly. His short story 'After the Vision' was included in the anthology Children of Albion Rovers (1997) and 'Bitter Salvage' was included in Disco Biscuits (1997). In 2003 he was nominated by Granta magazine as one of twenty 'Best of Young British Novelists'. In 2010, his novel The Stars in the Bright Sky was included in the longlist for the Man Booker Prize.
Alan Warner's novels are mostly set in "The Port", a place bearing some resemblance to Oban. He is known to appreciate 1970s Krautrock band Can; two of his books feature dedications to former band members (Morvern Callar to Holger Czukay and The Man Who Walks to Michael Karoli). Alan Warner currently splits his time between Dublin and Javea, Spain.
Can's Tago Mago is a complex album, filled with weird sounds and scant melodies. Yet is is inventive and an immersive experience. Author Alan Warner, however, does not really tackle the album from a technical point of view, rather he makes Tago Mago the epicentre of his coming of age into music. If you're looking for a good anecdote about music consumerism in the late 70's then this is a great book. If you want to know more about specific drums the skip to the last 20 pages, where Warner interviews Jaki Liebezeit and Michael Karoli and they talk about the recording and certain trivia.
Personally I like the mix of personal and factual, and it doubles as an enjoyable read.
It's not even about Tago Mago. It's just some uninteresting autobiography about how difficult it was to find records in the 80s when you're living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.
100 pages of wandering biographical prattling that has little to do with CAN at all. Then 34 pages of interesting writing on how editing shaped their sound, and session details.
By far the worst of the 33 & 1/3s I've read. More of an unsolicited autobiography about someone's boring history buying records than Tago Mago. Only until more than half of the book later when the album ever enters the scene. The sheer lack of background knowledge is made obvious by the absence of much discussion on Tago Mago at all. There are facts about the sessions in here eventually, and there are a few insights into the group's style, but there is soooooooo much filler around those sparse moments that I feel a little insulted that someone approved this. It's a rushed project from Warner, no doubt, as he was probably still in fiction-writing mode working on actual novels in his spare time. This explains his shameless tangents on so many unrelated topics, as he writes speculations on the band more than he writes facts. He didn't do much research, he just wanted to validate his identity as a real Can "fan."
If anyone has found a 33 & 1/3 book that is actually good please let me know.
Alan Warner was clever to cold open with a detailed picking-apart of "Halleluhwah". That's the elephant in the room in every single discussion of Tago Mago; bringing the album up begs at least a mention of what is arguably its crown jewel, its chaotic 18-minute mission statement, and digging into it right out of the gates makes for an enticing opening that leads you to believe you're in for another entry in the classic 33 1/3 tradition of avowed music geeks poring obsessively over their favorite moments and details on their side A favorites and choice side B deep cuts.
Unfortunately, it all derails from there, becoming not about Tago Mago (I can think of few albums more deserving of 100+ pages of that exact kind of probing) but about Warner's childhood musical tastes and how they led him to Can. Which is all good and fine, and isn't new to the 33 1/3 series (some of my favorite entries were written as micro-memoirs) - but he just takes it too far without justifying it. There's about three pages about the movie Jaws. There's yarns about Van Halen, Ian Dury, swearing, Scottish tourism, John Lydon. It all grows tiresome, and leaves only about 30 pages at the end dedicated to Tago Mago and its seven tracks - which, while feeling a bit like an afterthought, did offer some nice insight into the recording of the mystifying album (I had no idea it was recorded in a castle!). Overall, could have been much better, but it seems it could have been the OK Computer entry (which I haven't read, and based on its reviews on here, will probably continue to avoid).
The main fault of the 33 1/3 series is the tendency of its writers to get lost in their own autobiographies, dancing around their inabilities to describe those moments of magic when a young mind first opens to music and ultimately forgetting to tackle the album whose title and image graces the book cover. Warner, a novelist who has used Can's music in his writing as well as joining Can on stage later in life, pleasantly uses his autobiographical standpoint less as a way to tackle the music of Can, but the band's mythology and the mysteries bands present when we have access to so little information. Without trying to make grand statements or decrying our modern times, he revels in the joys of lacking knowledge, craving understanding, and the blind creativity that occurs when we try to solve a mystery running off a few pictures and sounds. And what better band to tackle such a subject than Can? A band somehow still wrapped in mystery in the Information Age to the point that the back cover of this little book begins with "Finally, a brilliant exploration of the German rock band", which may be a bit misleading but succeeds in pulling in those who have also craved to solve the mysteries of such a fascinating, enigmatic band. Where other volumes in this series disappoint by advertising their entries in a similar way, suggesting they are a kind of extended liner notes for those who take the "fanatical" side of "fan", Warner's entry succeeds in providing enough behind the scenes details to satiate the information hungry reader while also bait-and-switching us with a wonderful portrait of youth facing the mysteries of art. As someone who used university inter-library loans to pull a badly translated book from Texas to Virginia just to glean snippets of information on the seminal German band, to hear Warner share his own enjoyments in mystery is a total pleasure.
Hated to learn the fate of author’s original copy of TM 😬
As someone who also had to learn about music by catching rides to the one record store 25 minutes from my childhood home (the internet helped too), I related plenty enough with the longer than necessary exposition detailing the author’s CAN origin story to enjoy it more than a lot of the reviews here... When I was 16 the singer in a rock and roll band I was obsessed with at the time (and still am 20 years later) gave me a list of top recommended “psychedelic rock albums” to check out - Ege Bamyasi was at the top of that list, as well as albums by The Deviants, Hawkwind, Sam Gopal, and several others whose music quickly became my DNA - it took several trips to the Newbury Comics in Leominster to collect enough of these CDs for them to change my life - when EB was finally found I spent a splendid Sunday afternoon with a longtime neighborhood friend and a plastic bong taking in the extraterrestrial sounds on that cursed CD via his family’s nice surround sound system, and then continued to subject anyone that came my way to it for years to come. TM came to me after I moved away for college and needed to choose a record off a list to listen to and write about for a college class - getting to buy a beautiful copy of Tago Mago basically as a “textbook” was very exciting for the 19 year old who was using synesthesia as source material for first year projects and had a dorm room covered in personally-sacred paisley tapestries.
Anyway, lovely little book, esp the one short chapter about the album itself - def makes it about time for me to finally crack open my copy of All Gates Open !
One of the hallmarks of the 33 ⅓ series of album monographs is the extraordinary variety of approaches and styles. This slim volume on perhaps the greatest album by Germany’s Can is by Scottish novelist Alan Warner. As you would expect, the writing is deft and direct, with enough linguistic seasoning to keep things fresh. Warner’s approach is interesting. The band make only a few appearances in the first half and the target album barely any. Instead we have an engaging exploration of young Alan's growing fascination with popular music… but not too popular! Not for him a tinnitus-inducing fealty to heavy metal. This teen was a serious explorer of music of different styles and willing to take risks. Here is an important overlap with sonic explorers Can and their 1971 album Tago Mago, and the subtitle of the book, "Permission to Dream". For those curious about the Krautrock band who defined 'motorik', this brief book is an entertaining entry point. Warner’s recollections of discovering his own music, the trips to Glasgow to buy records, and the almost obsessive focus on each newly acquired LP by his heroes are all familiar yet individual. Record collectors will recognise his passion, the curious will have that interest tweaked, while serious Krautrock fans would probably be better served by the 600 page book on Can, "All Gates Open" (2018).
Lu un chapitre de ce livre, consacré à Tago Mago du groupe allemand Can.
Le gars commence par décrire un morceau de l'album ("et à 6 min y a la batterie, et à 12 min y a ce break, et..."). C'est cool mais je l'ai écouté l'album, sinon je serais pas là, donc c'est pas très intéressant. Puis ça part sur "en fait décrire un morceau c'est chiant" (AH ! on est d'accord, me dis-je), "mais tous les journalistes doivent passer par des métaphores blablabla..." (d'où ? pourquoi ?). Puis il raconte sa jeunesse (soupir) et finit par dire "en fait tu vois le vinyle capturait un moment, c'était cool, maintenant avec les ipods on a perdu ça" (oui le livre est sorti dans les 2000's je pense). "Avant on avait nos petites mains, on sortait le disque de la pochette là, on le posait sur la platine (zzz), c'était physique, c'était le bon temps. Bref ce livre va surtout parler de ce rapport fétichiste des mecs au vinyle." Je pense que je vais pas aller plus loin que ce chapitre.
I will admit, I have wondered how my life would be different if I'd discovered this album when I was still in high school (and not much enjoying what was on the radio). Now I know a bit what it was like for Alan to discover this in rural Scotland in the late seventies. While not nearly as self-involved as Jonathan Lethem's book on the Talking Head's Fear of Music, it still has a lot more teen-age speculation about what the band might have been doing and not nearly enough about what the band was actually doing at the time. And how much of a book on Can's Tago Mago needs to be devoted to Ian Dury & the Blockheads?
Usual qualms with 33 1/3 books aside (i.e portions too focused on writers personal story in a way that left me wanting more about the album and less about his riding a train to get a record as a 15 year old), this is a solid issue of the series. A seminal album and you couldn't read this book without recognizing the authors deep love and knowledge for Tago Mago and Can in general. Pretty deep dive, so I'm not sure if this book would make sense if you aren't already a fan of the band (or ready to dive down the immensely rewarding rabbit hole of Can/krautrock).
Yet another old geezer tritely reminiscing over the death of vinyl for 100+ pages. It reads like a conversation with any baby boomer dad ever.
"Back in my day you had to walk to all kinds of stores to get your music!" "Nothing can match the FEEL of pulling the record out of a full artwork sleeve!" "Bands used to play REAL instruments!"
If you want to actually learn more about the band, go watch the free documentaries on Youtube or just look up the Wikipedia page on Tago Mago.
It's not really in fact a book about this album. Yes there is a bit, especially nearer the end about a few details but instead this is a sweet book about one young music fan's accidental discovery and subsequent obsession with music and especially CAN from an Era before easy access to everything. I too lived a rural life obsessed with music and we shsred some musical touch stones.
About half the book isn't even about Tago Mago, it's about the author's musical journey that led him to Can. I was initially a bit disappointed, but it was well written enough that I didn't really mind. There is some behind the scenes and technical talk later in the book, but fair warning just in case you like your 33 1/3 books to be more about the band and not the author.
The author, writing about a German band's record released in 1971, has made the unfortunate choice to write about the event of discovering and listening to the album in 1979 rural Scotland as a 14 or 15 year old. While I'm sure this navel-gazing journey was revelatory for the author, it provides nothing at all--nothing--for a reader wishing to learn more about the album.
Can are not a band (and Tago Mago is not an album) I know extremely well, which works out since this enjoyable read in the 33 1/3 line isn't ultimately about either. Rather it is an exploration of musical discovery and fandom in the late '70s - early 80s.
Although the 33 1/3 series includes books on many albums I like, this is the first I've read. I read it because it's about one of my absolute favourite albums but also because the book was written by a novelist, Alan Warner, probably most well known for the book (since made into a film) 'Morvern Callar'. I figured a novelist might bring something different, in addition to good writing, to the subject: on that score I wasn't wrong.
First off, a significant portion of the book is not about the album, but really the context of the album in the author's life and his discovery of new music. He also talks a fair bit about the difficulty of writing about music, though later on does manage to pull off the trick of describing the music in an interesting way that brings new perspectives. Eventually, you'll be pleased to know, he does actually write about the album and sets it against the backdrop of other Can albums.
Overall there are three things that makes this such a good book; Warner is clearly a huge fan of Can and writes with love and affection for the music, he has new information on the album and band that I didn't know and finally, most important of all for any book or review of music, he makes you want to listen to the album and allows you to hear it with fresh ears. Superb.
A fun read, but it should be noted that much of the book is more about the author's youthful exploration of music than it is about the Can album in question. Music fans will likely still enjoy the read; at least those who came of age at a time when tracking down information about bands, and finding albums outside the mainstream, required effort and took time. Many of us can sympathize, having gone through it, as Warner slowly learns more about Can, studies the photos in the albums and hypothesizes, and generally feeds the obsession. The book brought me back to Tago Mago and other Can recordings, which is always fun.
Although I was initially disappointed to learn that this book was more concerned with the author's early, pre-Internet relationship with music than an exhaustive cataloguing of Tago's Mago's specifics, Warner's narration is so charming and engaging that I couldn't help but finish the book in one sitting. There are enough details about the album itself, some from interviews with the band, to satiate my curiosity. A little more about its production and promotion would have been welcomed, but the book was quite enjoyable nonetheless.
In a book about Can, I found out that Jerry Garcia was a Gary Numan fan. This makes me extremely happy. As for the book itself, it doesn't really tell you a lot about Tago Mago but is still well written and entertaining. It's mainly about the process of discovery of music as filtered through the author's personal experience. I definitely enjoyed it, though I'd still like to read a book about the album this book is supposed to be about.
A bit of a gem, this short book. Part musicology, part autobiography, a fascinating personal memoir of a lifetime's obsession with the groundbreaking and endlessly imaginative German avant-garde rock band Can - in particular their masterpiece album "Tago Mago". You probably have to be similarly obsessive to fully appreciate it, but even with no knowledge of Can or their music, Alan Warner's enthusiasm and the vividness of his memoir ought to win you over.
True, Warner doesn't really "get to" TAGO MAGO until 2/3rds of the way in, though the book opens with some of that. However, I like it as a journey into listening to and understanding music as you grow (especially as Warner and I both did--struggling to get our hands on both records and information. I'd put it in the top 15th of the many 33 1/3s I've read.
Not a direct account of the album, but more of an account of a young man's growing interest in music in his teenage years. There is a lot of nostalgia here, harking back to the era of vinyl albums and trips to the big city to search around record shops. The tracks on the album are covered well in the later section, but the author keeps the descriptions to a reasonable length.
Scottish novelist Alan Warner spends the first half of the book talking about discovering music in the pre-internet era in a small town and how he eventually discovered his favorite band Can. It's hilarious at times. The second half is a nuts and bolts making of Tago Mago with interviews with members of Can. Great.
One of the best in the series. Has a great focus on the process of discovering a band, and dreaming based on partial information, and solid discussion of the music too.
Hilarious and self aware. Equal parts music autobiography for Alan Warner— who approaches music as a nonmusician as many a Can fan can. Proof of why this series is so fun.
well it's my all-time fav album and i kinda had to read it. it was fun, even tho a lot of it wasn't about the album itself. but that gave it a bit of a personality, and i think that's cool, in a way.