Can - Live In Paris 1973 (2LP)

Can’s live recordings have long haunted the edges of the band’s mythology, traded on hissy tapes and whispered about by fans who swore the gigs were the true source of their power. The recent run of official releases has changed that story, and Live In Paris 1973 might be the most inviting entry yet. Issued by Spoon and Mute in 2024, it drops you into a room where four players ride a single idea until it blossoms, mutates and then suddenly pivots into something else entirely. It is the sound of a band treating the stage like a laboratory and a dancefloor at the same time.

The line up is the classic core of Irmin Schmidt, Holger Czukay, Jaki Liebezeit and Michael Karoli, and the chemistry feels telepathic. Liebezeit’s drumming is the anchor, a pulse that never grandstands yet never lets up. He finds a circular groove and leans into it for minutes at a time, letting the music breathe while keeping the tension high. Czukay’s bass wraps around those patterns with a rubbery throb that suggests dub before the term had really seeped into German rock. Karoli is all glint and bite, slicing little phrases that grow claws, then backing off for chiming harmonics when the mood turns liquid. Schmidt paints in analogue colours, organ and keys teasing melody and then drifting into texture, like vapour over hot tarmac.

The set captures Can right between the taut snap of Ege Bamyasi and the oceanic drift of Future Days, which puts Paris 1973 in a sweet spot. There are moments where the band lock into a hard, urban strut, the kind of rhythm that once powered Spoon and Vitamin C. Then the edges soften and the music takes on that aquatic shimmer the group were exploring in the studio. You can hear themes bleed into each other, threads tugged from known songs without ever settling into them, which is very much how Can approached the stage. They called it instant composition, and the phrase fits. Nothing feels tossed off. It feels composed in real time by four players who trust their instincts more than any plan.

Because these live albums are built from archival recordings, the restoration work matters, and this one has that warm, close feel that fans of the series will recognise. You can tell it started life on audience tape, there is room ambience and a touch of grit, but the energy is vivid and the instruments sit together naturally. The series has been overseen by Irmin Schmidt with long time engineer René Tinner involved in bringing the tapes up to scratch, and Paris bears that care. Turn it up on a decent system and the room opens. On Live In Paris 1973 vinyl, the low end bloom and cymbal detail really land, the kind of pressing that makes you want to re spin sides just to live inside a groove again.

What makes this volume sing is the shape of the performance. Can were never interested in the tidy three to five minute arc on stage, so Paris unspools in long sections that swell from near silence to street parade intensity. There is a point where Liebezeit nudges the band from a loping pattern into a faster, almost motorik drive and you can feel the crowd lean forward. Karoli teases some rough bluesy figures then flips to glassy chords, and suddenly Schmidt’s keys start to glow. It is ecstatic without pyrotechnics, and it is very Can. If you have chased live clips on YouTube and wished for something you could actually sit with, this is that wish granted.

As a piece of the band’s story, Paris helps clarify why these shows matter. Studio Can was a marvel of edit and texture. Live Can shows why those pieces worked in the first place. You hear the patience, the humour, the willingness to abandon a good idea the second a better one flickers into view. No wonder critics have warmed to these official documents. They are not just curios. They are major works.

If you’re crate digging for Can vinyl or looking to buy Can records online, this is an easy recommendation. It plays beautifully next to the other Can albums on vinyl from the era, and it might even be the gateway for someone who finds Tago Mago a bit daunting. I grabbed my copy at a Melbourne record store, though any good spot for vinyl records Australia wide should have it filed in the new arrivals. However you get it, play it loud, let it run, and trust the band to steer. They always do.