"Can were better than the Stooges"

Pour corroborer cette affirmation, d'une rare pertinence, qui a été faite en commentaire d'un précédent article (merci encore pour avoir, enfin, osé dire la vérité!), j'ai suivi la méthode à Lester Bangs et écrit une critique d'un album de Can, que je n'ai jamais écouté. Pour voir la technique, se référer à l'article Bangs, Bangs, you're dead et au lien qu'il contient...

Ege Bamyasi: This latest offering from Can is important only insofar as it will delineate the contours of the current malaise for future rock historians, if there are any with all the pollution around now. I don't remember how I got here, whose house this is or where this typewriter came from, but anyway this new album is by the greatest fucking rock 'n' roll band in the whole wide world and it has saved my life again just like all the others did, so I don't even care where I am, I don't care if I got rolled last night, I don't care if this place gets busted right now, I don't care if the world comes to an end because the cosmic message of truth and unity which this music is bringing to me has made me feel complete for the first time since 1968.

The first song on side one, Pinch, sets the pace and mood of the album most atmospherically. The first thing you notice is the deep, throbbing bass lines. The full impact of what's going on in this cut may not reach you the first time, but if you keep listening a couple of times a day for a week or two, especially through headphones, it will come to you in a final flash of revelation that you are listening to a masterpiece of rock which so far transcends "rock" as we have known it that most people probably won't recognize its true worth for at least ten years. Cut two is a definite picker-upper by virtue of the fact that it was produced by Phil Spector's cousin from Jersey. In spite of that, I feel that the true significance of its rather dense and muted lyrics can only be apprehended by taking a course in German.

This record has inspired such a powerful thirst in me that I can't bring myself to describe the rest of the cuts. Track by track reviews are a bore anyway, and the album only costs $4.97 at the right stores, so go down and get it and find out for yourself whether you'll like it or not. Who am I, who is any critic or any other sentient being on the face of the earth, to tell you what a piece of music sounds like? Only your ears can hear it as only your ears can hear it. Am I right or am I wrong? Of course I am. I do know that I will go on listening to this album till I drop dead of cancer. So before I sign my name at the bottom of this page and pick up the check from the cheap kikes that run this rag will never pay me anyway, I would like to leave you with one thought: Rock 'n' roll is dead. Long live rock 'n' roll.

Chloé


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