Pitchfork

Michael Karoli was born in 1948, and died Saturday morning, November 17th, 2001 at the age of 53. He was Can's resident human, guitarist, and violinist, and possibly the only reason that band had any kind of link to rock music. He was a visionary artist, and arguably most responsible for setting the legendary German band on its storied journey.

Karoli was the youngest member of Can. He first met bassist Holger Czukay as a guitar student in Switzerland in 1966. Czukay, drummer Jaki Leibezeit and keyboardist Irmin Schmidt were established musicians well before their tenures in Can: Czukay as a composer and teacher, Leibezeit as a free-jazz drummer and Schmidt as a composer and conductor. Karoli and Czukay kept in touch after Czukay left the teaching gig, always with the idea of working together in the future. Schmidt and Czukay, both former students of composer Karlheinz Stockhausen, had also been keen to form a group, though nothing materialized until Karoli turned them on to the revolutionary sounds of the young rock-- the Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, the Velvet Underground-- after which point, Can was decided.

Can's early recordings with American vocalist Malcolm Mooney (Delay 1968, Monster Movie and portions of Soundtracks) are a far cry from the impressionist beatscapes made famous on their classic mid-period albums, but are equally peerless. Primal, relentless rock-and-roll-and-pulse, taken beyond the sprawl and circumstance of contemporary VU; with a decidedly exploratory bent, but somehow never pretentious.

Mooney left the band after suffering a nervous breakdown, and street-singer Damo Suzuki was brought in. By most accounts, this change marked the beginning of Can's classic period. Can's albums featuring Suzuki (Tago Mago, Ege Bamyasi, Future Days, and portions of Soundtracks) detailed their transition from boisterous trance rockers to sophisticated masters of ambience and texture. Tago Mago balanced lengthy, almost psychedelic sound collage pieces with James Brown-ian funk motion and the archetypical Krautrock groove of tunes like "Oh Yeah" and "Halleluwah." Can further refined their funk on Ege Bamyasi, even incorporating pop elements such the occasional verse/chorus/verse structure and melodic hook.

Future Days witnessed Can's subtle shift from the beat conscious to the beauty-ridden. "Bel Air" was 20 minutes of prime, seemingly formless (though given the band's propensity to edit and arrange music, this was probably not the case) rock ambience. "Moonshake" was their greatest pop song, and the title track almost single-handedly invented electronic trance music as we know it.

Suzuki left the band in 1973, and the band never hired another singer. Karoli again decided the direction Can would take by assuming the role of lead vocalist. Soon Over Babaluma was the band's first album as a quartet, and probably the last of their classic period. By this point, world music was beginning to find a way into Can music, a trend that would continue until their break-up in 1978. However, this album is most famous for the radical, unprecedented closing pieces: "Chain Reaction" and "Quantum Physics." As if the rather mathematical titles weren't hint enough, they showed the band playing music that was at once precise and theoretically chaotic. Leibezeit's monotonous stomp coupled with Czukay's unwavering bass ostinato writes a sizable chunk of techno history all by itself. Karoli weaves in and around the beat and Schmidt's ever-changing synth atmospheres with his guitar, still rooted in the rock that gave Can its first spark, and yet sounding as if beamed in from another planet.

The band's albums afterwards expanded upon ideas approached on these classic albums, though never really succeeding their heights. They decided to call it a day in 1978, after a few underwhelming recordings (many featuring Rosko Gee and Reebop Kwaku Baah, both former members of Traffic). The original lineup, featuring Mooney, reunited in 1986 for sessions that resulted in 1989's "comeback" release, Rite Time. Karoli co-produced this album with Czukay, and although it featured a few moments of brilliance, it wasn't quite the transcendental experience of any of the classic period albums.

Karoli kept busy in the 80s by composing music for his acclaimed solo release, Deluge, with partner/vocalist Polly Eltes. He was also active as a producer, session guitarist and in appearances with most of his former Can bandmates onstage (often collaborating with ex-PIL bassist Jah Wobble). In the 90s, he continued to play and produce, and Deluge was reissued on CD, with bonus tracks featuring Leibezeit adding percussion.

Most recently, he'd planned to participate in a video interview with Czukay documenting much of the history the two men share. According to Czukay's website, Karoli had put it off so as not to appear as recording a "final testament" to his children. Tragically, this interview would never take place, as Czukay reported yesterday that Karoli died at home on Saturday morning.

Karoli had always been Can's most free spirit. In a group renowned for touching the border of the cosmos, musically, this was indeed an accomplishment. Czukay says that Karoli died only shortly after playing guitar, and though we've lost a visionary musician, how appropriate that he should surrender a grip on the practical and mundane so soon after creating something doubtlessly beautiful. It's just like a Can song, and one can only hope he's as flying as high now.

We'll miss you, Miki.