Now Can completely switches gears – Future Days is, for all intents and purposes, the big, relaxing, idyllic comedown from the manic trip which was kicked off by Tago Mago three albums ago. It is a rather strange contrast – the same group which spent extended amounts of time repetitively grinding you to the edge of senility are now gently sifting your ears through the sands of some faraway vacation spot, or something similar. There are only four – count ‘em – four tracks here, Damo’s vocals have been relegated to second division status at this point, and even the main instrumental players take somewhat of a backseat to the general atmosphere of the overall theme in play. Only on “Bel Air”, the massive but still somehow light and airy 20-minute track which ends the album, do we get hints of the old, classic Can tension at work, and even then, it is more like the song simply ends up dissolving into thin air, only to regenerate itself and begin again on its’ original theme. I have to say, the older I get the more static this album becomes for me, but you have to give them credit here – it is a radically different sound, even though upon re-listening it is not as appealing as I thought it would be.

The second disc in the Can/Damo Suzuki trilogy has often been cited by critics as a letdown from the manic peak of Tago Mago, but in its’ own loose, earthy, and free-flowing way, Ege Bamyasi is just as progressive in certain places, if not more so. And I'm not sure the group ever was more effective than on "One More Night", where everything seems to tangle around each other 1,167 times by the time this song is over with – as if they were intent on proving that now, they could do more in a third of the time than they did before. This is my go-to Can disc.

An improvisational masterpiece - or nightmare, depending, or your point of view. The ultimate theme of Tago Mago is that never-ending sense of redlining it, pushing to extremes, and violent mood swings, from a quiet, deceptive state of serenity to wild, thrashing, chaotic madness. And of course, those are the same characteristics which, to me, make the album so difficult to really listen to on a daily basis. From personal experience, I’m pretty well worn out for a good while after one listen of this mammoth disc, and I can only imagine how people felt dealing with the vinyl version.

This album was released into the pop-culture mainstream during a time when Alanis Morrisette and other female alt-rockers ruled the airwaves. Specifically, because of the lead single, “Mother Mother” – an often-harrowing first-person account of explaining those initial years away from the nest, and Tracy seemed to be a lot more on edge than Alanis ever was in any of her songs, even at her angriest. However, by no means is Bonham’s debut in the “great album” category – not even close – it’s much more like a lost curio waiting to be discovered by the small number of people who can rightly connect to it. There are slow songs here and there, to give you brief respites in between the heavier tracks, but ultimately, big booming rockers like the aforementioned “Mother, Mother”, “The One”, “Sharks Can’t Sleep”, “Tell It to the Sky”, and “Navy Bean” really set the tone of the record.

So, this was recorded with a different lineup. Rutledge and Pickens left for supposed greener pastures (they never got greener than the Bloodrock days) and were replaced by Warren Ham. The music was more like a Traffic or a similar art rock band but still retained a good amount of the heavier elements from the first four records. As with previous efforts, people hated this record but for a different reason - because it didn't sound like "D.O.A."! Well, it doesn't, but it's OK. "Lost Fame" is a really good track, for example. The follow-up Whirlwind Tongues was an even deeper dive into this kind of music, though.