Tanz Der Lemminge, the third album by Amon Duul II from 1971, is, ridiculously, considered
their first accessible album after two wildly freeform psychedelic freakouts. I
say “ridiculously” because, while Tanz Der Lemminge may be a bit more conventional than the
first two LPs, it is a far cry from normal. Split into four major side-long
pieces, Tanz Der Lemminge
embodies all the characteristics of the Krautrock movement; complex,
long-form compositions punctuated by long stretches of wild improvisation,
strange, sci-fi lyrical themes and no fear of playing what might be considered
fairly extreme music. Musically, Amon Duul II shares much ground with both Can
and Atom Heart Mother-era Pink Floyd. There are waves of organ, piano
and mellotron, crashing on beaches of throbbing basslines, while reverb soaked
guitars skronk like birds above the fray. This is cosmic music, make no mistake
about it!
The thing that
originally drew me to Tanz Der Lemminge was the amazing cover. I was actually at the store – Underground Records
– that I would buy about 15 years later and turn into Twist and Shout, when I
looked up at the wall and saw import copies of Can’s Tago Mago and Tanz
Der Lemminge for what seemed like a lot of money at the time. The cover of
The Amon Duul II album was irresistible to me. Even though I had never heard of
the band or their music, I took all my spare cash out and forked it over for a
completely unknown quantity. It wasn’t that I was completely unprepared. I was
a veteran listener of Pink Floyd, Yes, King Crimson, even Brian Eno, Tangerine
Dream and Kraftwerk, so the idea of long-form compositions and electronic
improvisation was not something new to me. I was, however, unprepared for the
sustained ferocity of Amon Duul II. Much like King Crimson’s attack, they just
pounded away with abandon, but they were stylistically agnostic, slipping
easily from highly arranged prog-rock, to totally free spacerock, to gentle
acoustic freak-folk, but all effortlessly and with the group mind of the best
west-coast American psych bands. At times, like “Stumbling Over Melted
Moonlight,” they almost sound like Quicksilver Messenger Service, but then will
morph into insectoid drone patterns as soon as you think you have a handle on
where they are going. Over the years, I have never gotten comfortable with Amon
Duul’s work in the sense that I know what to expect, or where it’s going. Even
though I have owned Tanz Der Lemminge for decades, each time I play it
is like a new beginning and a revelatory one at that. I am constantly searching
for new bands that can take me somewhere I’ve never been. Bands like Amon Duul
II.
- Paul Epstein
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