The world lost one of its best drummers on 22nd January 2017, but we’re still disappointed his genius isn’t recognised beyong a cult level.
But we’re also super eager to honour a musician whose talent goes beyond infinity into genius and thump… thump-thump.
Tago Mago: Oh Yeah
Okay, so this track is on Can’s landmark Tago Mago (1971). It’s the third track in and begins with a brooding explosion (atomic bomb).
What emerges are a brooding bassline looping pattern from Holger Czukay. But also the sounds of drummer extraordinaire Jaki Liebezeit.
What’s remarkable here is what his right leg does. On his bass drum pedal, throughout the entire seven minute track, he does this:
No drum machine in those days. No mistakes. The most perfect timing. With no stop, for seven bloody minutes.
Other drummers have noted his technique was to nail down remarkable grooves and then add occasional deviations. The first subtle flourish is at 1:17 seconds.
Much easier than it sounds, but Liebezeit’s genius was in adapting as required to Can at its peak. He was Germany’s jazz top young drummer in the 1960s. By joining Can, he ensured the group entered the stratosphere onto the level of the greats.
The band’s focus was to prove Germany had something to offer post-WWII. They also hired Buddhist singer from Japan Damo Suzuki.
Tago Mago is where the band hit total genius. Whilst guitarist Michael Karoli (he died in 2001 aged 53) was also brilliant, the landmark album is also dominated by Liebezeit.
And on Oh Yeah (the band deliberately chose English titles, but sometimes foreign lyrics) Liebezeit is a propulsive beast. Consider the initial stage of the track:
- Right foot: Thump… thump-thump.
- Left foot: Tick, tick, tick, tick.
- Ride cymbal: Swoosh, swoosh, swooch, swoosh.
- Snare drum: Smack, smackity-smack, smack.
After the opening section, Damo Suzuki’s bizarre, nonsensical vocals appear over the top.
It’s all rather dark and brooding, with swirling synth effects creating a doom-laden track.
But what’s remarkable is how such an eerie song ultimately lifts towards something life-affirming.
In the closing section Karoli’s guitar work becomes energising. Almost joyous. And suddenly that lifts the drumming to a new level, as it connects with the musical shift perfectly.
All of which ends to a perfectly timed conclusion, as if Can’s drummer had timed his entire drumming loop to land with milisecond perfection at the close.
And then it all fades out, leaving Jaki Liebezeit alone to bop out that beat for the rest of eternity.