Can – ‘Future Days’
The krautrock genre emerged from Germany in the 1960s, led by youngsters fed up with a miserable post-World War II legacy. These radical musicians wanted to create an entirely new, innovative sound that separated them from traditionalism. Taking inspiration from experimental and avant-garde compositions and techniques, they indulged in extended jams and repetitive rhythms, crafting evocative soundscapes rather than following a traditional song structure. By doing so, a handful of artists pioneered a new way of making rock music.
At the forefront of the movement were bands like Neu!, Faust and Can, with the latter becoming the most widely known. Formed in 1968, most of the members were experienced in avant-garde classical composition, which greatly influenced the direction of their sound. The band met vocalist Damo Suzuki in 1970, who performed with Can on four albums, beginning with the compilation record Soundtracks.
After appearing on the highly influential albums Tago Mago and Ege Bamyasi, Suzuki made his final contributions to Can on the 1973 record Future Days. The record mirrors the structure of their debut, Monster Movie, beginning with two medium-length songs, one short track coming third, before ending with a 20-minute sonic odyssey to round things off.
However, Future Days is a much better record, showing the band’s progression into ambient and truly unconventional territories. In just four tracks, Can take the listener through a journey of coastal-inspired grooves and spacey rhythms, all of which are entirely immersive. Listening to Future Days is a unique auditory experience, and while there’s a risk of long jams becoming tedious, the songs on Future Days never tire, proving Can’s masterful approach to unorthodox song practices.
The eponymous opening track begins with the unnerving use of musique concrète techniques, with ambiguous sounds creating an uncertain beginning to the record. However, these sounds soon morph into a positively breezy rhythm led by percussion that transports the listener to a tropical location, conjuring up images of sand and sea. It’s not the image you’d expect the German krautrockers to evoke, yet Can appear more than at home in these funk-inducing melodies. The track is rather gentle, and Suzuki’s quiet vocals creep in without disturbing the band’s instruments. Instead, his voice melts into their rich aural world, becoming its own instrument.
On the next track, ‘Spray’, Can retain this oceanic sensibility, mainly through Jaki Liebezeit’s drums, although the song is slightly more ominous than the relaxing ‘Future Days’. Irmin Schmidt’s keys and synths, paired with the advancing rhythms of Liebezeit’s instrument, give the song a slight early arthouse horror/sci-fi movie sensibility. The track, which is almost nine minutes long, is entirely mesmerising, and its relatively long runtime flies by.
Can bridge the gap between lengthy songs with the three-minute ‘Moonshake’, which is nearly impossible not to dance to. The funky grooves keep the song afloat as a bizarre collection of found sounds enter midway through. Suzuki’s vocals can be heard more clearly than other tracks, so much so that you might even find yourself singing along. You could call ‘Moonshake’ a palette cleanser, gearing the listener up to the following 20-minute cut, ‘Bel Air’, but that would do a disservice to the previous songs.
Future Days, in all of its ambition, is actually a relatively simple record to listen to. The album is never too challenging because the band create such interesting sonic textures, maintaining cyclical rhythms while changing things up just enough to keep the songs exciting. The album’s final song, ‘Bel Air’, proves this. It’s not easy to create a long piece of music that can truly sustain the listener’s attention, yet Can are masters of the craft. The sprawling song moves between various vignettes, which all come together beautifully. It’s slightly heavier than the previous songs, with the final quarter of the track welcoming electric guitars that seem to spiral around the listener, all while Liebezeit’s cymbals crash in the background.
As the album slows to a finish, it’s hard not to feel blown away by the band’s immense skill and sheer dedication to creating expansive yet well-formed pieces of music. Can’s music, in all of its experimentation and lengthy jamming, never becomes dull, repetitive or ostentatious. Future Days remains one of the band’s most significant works, forming an unofficial ‘Damo’ trilogy alongside Tago Mago and Ege Bamyasi, demonstrating the band at the height of their career.
