At 89 years old, Irmin Schmidt, co-founder of the legendary band CAN, blends the surreal beauty of composition and environment in his latest masterpiece, Requiem. Listening to this album feels like stepping into a dream, wandering through a forest in the coldest hour of evening in the South of France, where Schmidt is based.
There is a distinct sense that Schmidt has created this two-part suite not merely as a reflection on the past, but as a sanctuary built from recordings of the natural world: birds, frogs, rustling air, and low hums. The atmosphere is so tense you could hear a pin drop; it is eerie, beautiful, and slightly unsettling, leaving you wondering if something is creeping up behind you.
With long-time collaborator René Tinner on production and Schmidt on piano and field recordings, the album pays a poignant tribute to Schmidt’s mentor, Karlheinz Stockhausen, and his former band mates from CAN. It pulls the listener back into those droning, avant-garde years, proving that the creative spark Schmidt ignited 65 years ago, when he conducted orchestras and performed with John Cage before forming CAN in 1968, remains entirely undiminished.
Schmidt occasionally turns up the tension. In the midsection of the first part, he dives into a chant-like sequence accompanied by the sound of an ominous alarm. It feels like standing inside a lighthouse, bracing for a massive thunderstorm; Schmidt puts you right in the eye of the storm, keeping you entirely guessing.
Requiem reminds us that Schmidt is far more than just CAN’s architect. His vast career spans film and television scoring, solo ambient, jazz, and electronic experiments, and even a three-act opera titled Gormenghast (based on Mervyn Peake’s gothic fantasy novel), which premiered in Germany at the Wuppertal Opera House on November 15th, 1998.
Moments of tribute to György Ligeti also emerge, creating a punctuated texture that will make your skin crawl. The second movement opens with rain pouring onto the street as piano passages trickle into the pavement, evoking a walk through an abandoned mansion frozen in time. As the downpour intensifies, the music forces you to seek shelter. When the rain halts, Schmidt retreats further into classical realms, pulling you into a dark, post-apocalyptic atmosphere that confronts you with absolute desolation.
When the rain returns, Schmidt’s dissonant ideas reach their peak. Requiem is a challenging listen that demands repeat visits. Schmidt has weaponised a lifetime of ideas to pull you into this journey, creating a brilliant, unpredictable landscape where ambient field recordings and stark piano architecture collide to reveal something profoundly haunting.
