Can’s Irmin Schmidt on the secret to Damo Suzuki’s singing
The development of music, art and culture during the 1960s was monumental, with genres such as hard rock, psychedelia and the early rumblings of punk emerging from the decade. However, the end of the decade also gave rise to a group of experimental German bands, whose music was often labelled krautrock.
The movement was a radical statement against popular music, with these musicians seeking to redefine what the medium could be. Their experimentations were often far from radio-friendly due to the use of unconventional song structures, emphasis on texture, use of musique concrète and repetitiveness.
Can were one of the most influential bands to emerge from the movement, utilising cyclical, often funky, rhythms, drawing from a wide pool of influences, ranging from the proto-punk art rockers The Velvet Underground to Eastern artists and instruments. Often jamming for long periods – during live performances and in the studio – Can were renowned for their innovative approach to making music, unafraid to deliver long, unusually structured tracks.
It is hard not to get sucked into Can’s sound – many of their songs practically hypnotise you. The band’s early work featured Malcolm Mooney on vocals, but it wasn’t until 1970 that the band levelled up due to the inclusion of Damo Suzuki, who performed vocals for three years. Even though he was there for just a short amount of time, he had a massive impact on Can, performing mesmerising vocals on their most acclaimed albums – Tago Mago, Ege Bamyasi and Future Days.
He was recruited by the band to replace Mooney when they were in need of vocals for their Soundtracks album. Hailing from Japan, Suzuki spent time in various countries in Europe before ending up in Germany, leading him to perform in a blend of languages or sometimes simply straight-up gibberish, often leaving listeners unsure of what he was singing. On the occasions that his lyrics were hard to decipher, the power with which he moved and stretched his voice was more than enough to carry the songs, seemingly perfect for the rhythms, grooves and experimentalism of the band’s instrumentals.
Following his departure from the band, vocal duties were sometimes given to Michael Karoli or Rosko Gee, but none of Can’s albums without Suzuki fared as well. In an interview with Sasha Frere-Jones, Irmin Schmidt, Can’s keyboardist, revealed that no one came close to Suzuki when it came to finding a new vocalist.
He explained, revealing the reason for Suzuki’s genius in the process, “There was no singer with whom it really worked. We tried out with two or three, and it didn’t work. They were too harmless. They were not evil enough.”
It was this sense of “evil” that made Suzuki’s voice so valuable to the band – he really gave his all to every track, even if that meant squealing or delivering unintelligible lines. His vocals were never just straightforward, and that’s what made him such a significant figure. Suzuki passed away on February 9th, 2024, but his striking, influential contributions to Can ensure his legacy as one of experimental music’s most defining characters.
