Live in Brighton 1975

Resenha do Álbum

Live in Brighton 1975 is the second in an ongoing series of officially released concert recordings by Can, which had previously only seen the light of day as bootlegs. Originating from the same year as the Stuttgart gig, issued earlier in 2021, the Brighton show is much in the same vein, containing 90 minutes' worth of numerically titled improvisations by the band's core lineup of Irmin Schmidt, Jaki Liebezeit, Michael Karoli, and Holger Czukay. While the group's albums were edited down from endless recording sessions, highlighting moments of sublime chemistry that might've sounded like they were planned ahead of time even though they weren't, this is an unfiltered document of the band's free-form live powers, demonstrating their creative process in real time. There's a fair number of meandering moments, but the parts that actually go places are something to behold. "Drei" takes a few minutes to hit on an agile rhythm that effortlessly sprints forward, capturing a lighter-than-air sensation. "Vier" erupts with explosive drumming, shredding guitar noise, and uncontrolled synth flashes before launching into a ragged, volatile rhythm that feels like it could topple over and combust at any second. The synths throughout the opening minutes of "Sechs" emit silvery light, and after the musicians probe alien territory with several minutes of minimalist scraping and buzzing, a beat forms, making the music sound like it's finally standing upright. "Sieben" happens upon traces of the shimmering organ and funky backbeat of "Vitamin C," arguably the group's signature tune, suggesting that the band had something resembling a live repertoire, but of course it's taken in a much different direction here, starting out slow and smoothed out before revving up and gradually expanding and taking flight. Perhaps even more intriguing are the moments during the set that seem to echo songs that hadn't been written yet, like the brief presence of a chord sequence in "Zwei" that resembles that of the Fall's own Can tribute, "I Am Damo Suzuki." These prescient flashes serve as a reminder that Can were nothing if not ahead of their time, and that there's still much to be gained from uncovering previously obscure corners of their body of work.
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