Post by Kevin on Feb 24, 2003 12:48:21 GMT -5
Most of the people on this forum probably don’t know much about the mighty Damo Suzuki, so perhaps a little background information is in order:
Once upon a time……
In Germany there was a group called Can. In the years 1970-73 they produced some of the most remarkable music in the world, combining the formal modernism of composers such as Stockhausen with various ethnic musics, improvisitation, and driving hard rock to create some of the most interesting prog music the world has ever heard, before or since. Kenji “Damo” Suzuki, Can’s unique vocalist/frontman, was crucial to their unique sound.
He was discovered on the streets of Munich by 2 members of Can. Their previous singer, an American named Malcolm Mooney, had left the group to return to the U.S., leaving them with gigs but no singer. As the 2 Can members walked down the street, they discovered Damo “worshipping the sun” and decided then and there to invite him to sing for the group. He agreed, and ended up staying 3 years. For those into Krautrock/German prog, most agree that Damo’s years with Can were their best, wildest, most interesting, and most productive. However, in 1973 Damo left the group, and a slow decline in the quality of their music ensued until they disbanded in 1977.
Fast forward to the late 80s. After pursuing various non-musical interests, Damo re-enters the world of music, working with various individuals from Can and others. His career picks up in the 90s as his recorded output proliferates: 2 CD sets are common, and there’s even a 7-CD box called ‘P.R.O.M.I.S.E.’ His concerts generate awe-struck reviews and non-cheesy comparisons to 60s love ins: its as if he’s a genuine shaman, casting spells over his willing audience.
As an old Can head, I finally decided that I had lived long enough without witnessing Damo in action. When I learned that he would be making a rare North American appearance in Chicago on February 22, I knew that it was TIME!! So my wife and I hopped on the train for the 9-hour ride from central Missouri to Chicago to stay with a music-loving pal. On Saturday night we braved the wind-blown, sub-freezing streets of Chicago to visit the Fireside Bowl, a near-derelict bowling alley slowly falling into ruin.
The first two bands on the bill were Timeout Drawer and Midstate. Both bands were synth-oriented indy rock, and although they were OK in their way, ultimately I found them dull. Lots of mid-tempo stuff and diluted pop sensibilities that occasionally hit the space rock realms, but too often subsided into boredom.
By this time the crowd was around 300. Most were young indy-types, but there were some old Can campaigners mixed in. Damo’s backup group, Defender, hit the stage first, and I was surprised and delighted at their sound; more so as the evening progressed. Damo finally hit the stage, looking like a 30-year-older replica of his 1972 self – cool!! Eyes shut tight in concentration, he chanted his lyrics, bringing the group to higher and higher peaks of intensity without showboating or overshadowing the other musicians. The bass had a cool echo effect throughout the night, while the guitar had a thin, trebly, distorted sound much like Can guitarist Michael Karoli’s (RIP). The drum sound varied from steady, piledriving beats to octopus-like virtuosity, as the situation demanded. He was LOUD!! Bits and pieces of old Can songs surfaced, such as the drum intro to ‘Oh Yeah’ off of the classic ‘Tago Mago.’ It also seemed like I heard the trademark guitar figure from ‘Mother Sky’ from ‘Soundtracks,’ but maybe it was only an hallucination. Who knows? Although I have most of Damo’s solo stuff, I’m not so familiar with it that I can instantly pick out the tunes, which are in any case characterized by lots of improvisation.
The music was characterized by long (10-20 minute) songs with lots of clench-and-release energy. Really, it was the avant/prog/rocking sound of early 70s Can, updated for the 21st century. Damo led the proceedings in his totally unique style, varying his delivery between soft chanting, conventional singing, yelping, and screaming. A couple of times he even threw in some Fat Albert throat singing. Believe me, you’ve never heard anything like it. With the help of Defender, he had the crowd bobbing and dancing in place and cheering like mofos. When the drummer’s bass drum pedal broke, forcing him to play standing up, there was an ovation when the pedal was replaced and the thumps restored. Clearly, there is a magic about Damo that makes people groove on his driving, psychedelic music, whether they’ve heard it before or not. When the set finally ended, after 1½ hours that seemed like mere minutes, there were plenty of congratulatory hugs to go around, without a hint of self-consciousness. I could easily have listened to hours more.
There are not many space/prog groups from the early 70s that have made it to the present day with their integrity intact; King Crimson and Hawkwind come to mind. Damo, with his quiet, unpretentious offstage manner and his maniacal, shamanistic stage presence, can easily be counted with the best. The 9-hour train rides and gulag cold of Chicago were mere annoyances; Damo was more than worth it.
Kevin McHugh
Once upon a time……
In Germany there was a group called Can. In the years 1970-73 they produced some of the most remarkable music in the world, combining the formal modernism of composers such as Stockhausen with various ethnic musics, improvisitation, and driving hard rock to create some of the most interesting prog music the world has ever heard, before or since. Kenji “Damo” Suzuki, Can’s unique vocalist/frontman, was crucial to their unique sound.
He was discovered on the streets of Munich by 2 members of Can. Their previous singer, an American named Malcolm Mooney, had left the group to return to the U.S., leaving them with gigs but no singer. As the 2 Can members walked down the street, they discovered Damo “worshipping the sun” and decided then and there to invite him to sing for the group. He agreed, and ended up staying 3 years. For those into Krautrock/German prog, most agree that Damo’s years with Can were their best, wildest, most interesting, and most productive. However, in 1973 Damo left the group, and a slow decline in the quality of their music ensued until they disbanded in 1977.
Fast forward to the late 80s. After pursuing various non-musical interests, Damo re-enters the world of music, working with various individuals from Can and others. His career picks up in the 90s as his recorded output proliferates: 2 CD sets are common, and there’s even a 7-CD box called ‘P.R.O.M.I.S.E.’ His concerts generate awe-struck reviews and non-cheesy comparisons to 60s love ins: its as if he’s a genuine shaman, casting spells over his willing audience.
As an old Can head, I finally decided that I had lived long enough without witnessing Damo in action. When I learned that he would be making a rare North American appearance in Chicago on February 22, I knew that it was TIME!! So my wife and I hopped on the train for the 9-hour ride from central Missouri to Chicago to stay with a music-loving pal. On Saturday night we braved the wind-blown, sub-freezing streets of Chicago to visit the Fireside Bowl, a near-derelict bowling alley slowly falling into ruin.
The first two bands on the bill were Timeout Drawer and Midstate. Both bands were synth-oriented indy rock, and although they were OK in their way, ultimately I found them dull. Lots of mid-tempo stuff and diluted pop sensibilities that occasionally hit the space rock realms, but too often subsided into boredom.
By this time the crowd was around 300. Most were young indy-types, but there were some old Can campaigners mixed in. Damo’s backup group, Defender, hit the stage first, and I was surprised and delighted at their sound; more so as the evening progressed. Damo finally hit the stage, looking like a 30-year-older replica of his 1972 self – cool!! Eyes shut tight in concentration, he chanted his lyrics, bringing the group to higher and higher peaks of intensity without showboating or overshadowing the other musicians. The bass had a cool echo effect throughout the night, while the guitar had a thin, trebly, distorted sound much like Can guitarist Michael Karoli’s (RIP). The drum sound varied from steady, piledriving beats to octopus-like virtuosity, as the situation demanded. He was LOUD!! Bits and pieces of old Can songs surfaced, such as the drum intro to ‘Oh Yeah’ off of the classic ‘Tago Mago.’ It also seemed like I heard the trademark guitar figure from ‘Mother Sky’ from ‘Soundtracks,’ but maybe it was only an hallucination. Who knows? Although I have most of Damo’s solo stuff, I’m not so familiar with it that I can instantly pick out the tunes, which are in any case characterized by lots of improvisation.
The music was characterized by long (10-20 minute) songs with lots of clench-and-release energy. Really, it was the avant/prog/rocking sound of early 70s Can, updated for the 21st century. Damo led the proceedings in his totally unique style, varying his delivery between soft chanting, conventional singing, yelping, and screaming. A couple of times he even threw in some Fat Albert throat singing. Believe me, you’ve never heard anything like it. With the help of Defender, he had the crowd bobbing and dancing in place and cheering like mofos. When the drummer’s bass drum pedal broke, forcing him to play standing up, there was an ovation when the pedal was replaced and the thumps restored. Clearly, there is a magic about Damo that makes people groove on his driving, psychedelic music, whether they’ve heard it before or not. When the set finally ended, after 1½ hours that seemed like mere minutes, there were plenty of congratulatory hugs to go around, without a hint of self-consciousness. I could easily have listened to hours more.
There are not many space/prog groups from the early 70s that have made it to the present day with their integrity intact; King Crimson and Hawkwind come to mind. Damo, with his quiet, unpretentious offstage manner and his maniacal, shamanistic stage presence, can easily be counted with the best. The 9-hour train rides and gulag cold of Chicago were mere annoyances; Damo was more than worth it.
Kevin McHugh