One of the glories music lovers can anticipate in 2018 is a marvelous book about Can called All Gates Open by Rob Young and Irmin Schmidt (Faber). The book is divided into two parts, each of which is the responsibility of one of the names on the cover. The bulk of the book is a detailed biography of the band written by Young, who has previously authored a book on “Britain’s visionary music” and has also edited a volume dedicated to the works of Scott Walker. The second part, shorter but of considerable interest to say the least, is called Can Kiosk; it is made up of a collection of Schmidt’s writings and ephemera about the collaboration that consumed so much of the creative energies of his life. All Gates Open comes out in May, but you can pre-order it now.

The first item in Schmidt’s part of the book is “‘A Schmidt-Smith from Germany,’” a charming snippet chronicling a meeting between mutual admirers Schmidt and Mark E. Smith that took place recently at a “crowded craft-beer brewery” in London. (The date is not given but at one point Schmidt remarks that he is almost 80, which is his current age.) The title is a play on the fact that “Smith” and “Schmidt” have the same meaning in their respective languages. All Fall enthusiasts are aware that Smith penned a song called “I Am Damo Suzuki,” so such a meet-up taking place is not exactly a shock.
 

 
Smith is curmudgeonly as ever but he has such affection for his interlocutor that it’s almost disarming. Not surprisingly, Schmidt is the one prodding Smith and not the other way around (it’s utterly impossible to imagine Smith probing Schmidt for information). Early on Schmidt reminds Smith of a gig that never came off, that would make any self-respecting music fan writhe in frustration:
 

Schmidt: Do you remember that you once called me? That was in the seventies.

Smith: What are you suggesting here?! I don’t think so.

Schmidt: Maybe you’ll remember when I mention what you proposed: you said that we should do a gig together. That must have been in 1977. Long ago….

Smith: Fuck me! That’s fucking right!

Schmidt: But it didn’t happen.

 
It also emerges that Smith never got to see Can perform and (perhaps more surprising) that Schmidt never got to see the Fall perform.

Later Schmidt investigates how Smith’s admiration for Can got started:
 

Schmidt: Still, I’d be interested in your first encounter with “the” Can….

Smith: I heard it then.

Schmidt: You heard it on the radio?

Smith: No. I ordered it by post. It was called mail order. The first record I bought was Tago Mago. When I was fifteen, I was a hard-core Velvet Underground fan. And other friends of mine who were also listening to the Velvet Underground told me that I should listen to Can. So I filled out a postcard, and two weeks later I got back a Can record—from London.

Schmidt: And did Tago Mago live up to your expectations?

Smith: Fucking yes. It formed my skills listening to it. I went to grammar school at that time and everybody was listening to Pink fucking Floyd and the Beatles. They were shit. But Can were great. As was Gary Glitter. And the Velvet Underground. Manchester people always liked Can. That’s why we are called “The Can People” since 1973. To earn some money I was working on the docks. All music during that period was fucking shite—David Bowie, Genesis, Pink Floyd and James Taylor. Crap. Can saved my life. Irmin, you fucking saved my life! And because you saved my life I even bought Soon Over Babaluma.

 
Poor Babaluma. Does anyone know what Smith was talking about when he said that “we” were called “the Can People”?

In any case, Schmidt and Smith commiserate about the poor reception that both Can and the Fall have received in Marseille over the years. But after Smith asserts that the Germans and the English share a narrow mindset that impedes comprehension of bands like Can and the Fall, Schmidt insists that the French understand Can better than the Germans. “That’s why I’m living in France,” he says. Later on Smith says that the French hate the Fall.

While you wait for your copy of All Gates Open to arrive by what is called mail order, here’s “I Am Damo Suzuki” by the Fall performed live at the Haçienda in Manchester, October 9, 1985.
 

Previously on Dangerous Minds:
Can’s mind-boggling 1972 ‘Free Concert’
Can’s ‘Mother Sky’ as it was used in the creepy British cult film ‘Deep End’