As Krautweek plows along with an untypical German inefficiency, let's take a moment to reflect on the origins of the genre. The term 'Krautrock' was first heard during World War II when the Allies were using a faulty code cracking machine (pre-Enigma yoke) and it incorrectly predicted that the Nazis would invade britain with a series of meandering, propulsive 'motorik' rhythms, riffs, and hooks. The attack never materialised, but it sparked the Brits to forumlate their own secret weapon, the jangly-pop ditty which took over the world in the sixties courtesy of The Beatles. The 'Krautrock' project eventually emerged out of Germany in the late sixties to much head-scratching. If only they'd got it out in time - it would have been as big a hit as Enola Gay.
Can are one of the early Krautrock pioneers and it members included a serious bevvy of outer limits experimentalists such as Holger Czukay and Damo Sazuki who took loads of drugs and wigged out for days on end playing music. This is one of the many delightful, cosmic, doolally, results. Oh, and they named themselves after a can.