Originally published in Sounds, 23 October 1976

“Irmin Schmidt was transporting a washing machine down the stairs, and it fell on top of him.”

Bad karma for Can, as their keyboard player’s mishap has put the band hors de combat, or out of action, for a crucial month or so, at precisely the time Can were scheduled to do a 20-date British tour to back up their new hit single, “I Want More.” Hope you’re not feeling too pissed off, Holger. (That’s Holger Czukay, bass player in the band).

“No, I take it as it comes. I was not even really scared. I feel it’s a pity, because I like to go onstage, but… all these things have something good about them. There is nothing happens to me where I don’t find something good.”

Admirable sentiments. So what’s good about blowing out an important tour?

The Pollyanna of avant-garde rock is undeterred. “If I don’t know now, I know it later,” laughing, “I think we can do much better our live performance, to know where the people are sitting in the audience, who they are, whoever comes. You should not be on stage for your own pleasure; your pleasure must be the people’s pleasure. Otherwise it’s not the right pleasure, it’s just esoteric.”

Holger Czukay and myself are patronizing the glorious Relais Basque cake shop on Westbourne Grove, in the belief that Can’s first British hit single can best be discussed in an aura of civilized continental charm and nosh.

“Ja, ja,” repeats Holger categorically, “we did make it in a bid for the charts, directly to be a hit.”

He’s talking about the success of “I Want More”, a frenzied, jitterbugging, electronified, hypnotic disco ditty with a fetching organ break in the middle, and incomprehensible, whispered lyrics.

Nobody could confuse it with the Armada Orchestra; equally, you’d be hard put to realize it’s Can (or I would have been anyway).

Holger is an appealing individual with plaintive brown eyes and a confidential, cheery air.

“But, you know, we did it all the years. Each single we produced we made to reach the market, but I think we always failed.”

Disarming modesty, Holger continues, “This time I think we succeeded because we were more simple. I think the other time it was a bit complicated and not really towards the public address. The singles were a little bit for special people instead of common people…”

Herrumph. That sounds like a rather dangerous distinction, doesn’t it?

“Perhaps, but that is the experience,” Holger demurs. “There’s always been people who like Can—fans—and they’re always special people.”

In retrospect, don’t you wish that Can had made use of this new-found simplicity at previous stages of their career? After all, hit singles = big potatoes, and nobody objects to them, right?

Holger protests earnestly in between ravaging his Danish pastry. “But I always want to be commercial! That’s the reason I joined Can! Otherwise I could have continued making my modern music composership (sic) and whatever belongs to that. And anyway, we had a number one hit in Germany already, although it failed over here.

“But I was always on the commercial side. Because my mother said one day when I was 20 years age old (sic), ‘Now son, you have to earn your own money.’

“And first thing was, what can I do? Because I wanted to go on as I was at the time, a composer. Which means having a profession that doesn’t bring in any money.”

Holger’s grin envelopes the entire cafe in his eagerness to convey the point.