AN AUDIENCE WITH...
IRMIN SCHMIDT
As the spectacular Can live series continues, the band’s co-founder talks Damo, drug busts and drinking with Mark E Smith
Interview by SAM RICHARDS
“We wanted a group without hierarchy, where nothing is forbidden”
STEVEGULLICK
FOR afew years now, Irmin Schmidt has been the conscientious curator of the Can legacy –arole that has taken on added poignancy since the recent passing of Damo Suzuki, leaving keyboardist Schmidt as the last surviving member of the classic early-’70s lineup. The current series of Can live albums has been arevelation, charting afiery alternate history of the band to complement their revered studio catalogue. But following the release later this year of two 1977 UK sets from Aston and Keele universities, Schmidt is minded to reseal the archive for good. “I think it’s enough,” he says simply.
“There is quite alot out from Can. These live records for me, they keep the standard and the quality. I hate the idea to squeeze it out and find the last little shit!”
Instead, he’ll be finishing off his next solo record, “which is with prepared piano, but with alot of specially environmental sounds [recorded] at night, on my terrace. Also my opera from Gormenghast, which I wrote in the ’90s, will be again performed in Austria next year. Ihave to reorganise the material, so that keeps me busy too. It’s enough for an old man!”
At 87, Schmidt can no longer play the piano as freely as he would like owing to the pain from an old injury, but he is sanguine about his limitations. “I mean, I played for 80 years!” Now, he can look back on his career with justifiable pride, acertain degree of astonishment and plenty of impish humour. “Hello to all the questioners,” he says, eyes twinkling mischievously. “I hope they are content with my answers…”