This is the band that on first discovery changes your entire conception of rock (down goes The Beatles poster), and you also get pissed and self-aware wondering who hid these guys from you for so long.

They never wallow at the bottom of rock lists, get deconstructed on cable, or have their shirts sold at Target. As such, it's frustrating for fans not residing in Germany in the 70's to contextualize the mind bending compositions with actual faces and not merely abstract constructions. This two-disc set isn't the sleekest, but the footage offers a desperately needed and legitimate look at a superior act, and is one of the few areas outside YouTube younger fans can contemplate their legendary live sets.

Made from a filming of a free concert in Cologne in 1972, the first disc proves that these guys were much more than a reclusive studio band of freaks and geniuses. Seeing Can on stage you realize that they're creating first and performing second. Can "jams" in the improvisational sense, unlike many stoner bands going through elongated motions for dough. Ten thousand Germans directly in front of the band are barely acknowledged, and appear more lost in the music than that blond chick in Aruba.

Notwithstanding, lead singer (at this time anyway) Damo Suzuki is a genuine showman, prancing the stage in a red jumpsuit Freddy Mercury would covet, howling his unique lyrics in the "language of the stone age,” as bizarre side-show attractions of jugglers and the like appear.

Documentaries on disc two do not go behind the music, but into it. Sadly, you never obtain dirt on the drugs Can were using, their secret fetishes, or much insight into the line up changes. Obviously Can still enjoy a level of privacy and ambiguity few bands possess (and few secretly seek). And like the sound bytes of colorful gossip missing here, it’s also slightly unfortunate that the commentaries, usually unasked for, of disciples giving praise are not found, as Can has major admirers. Instead, a random Sonic Youth member and Johnny Rotten cream their pants on camera at the first few bars of "Spoon” - more insightful are a string of interviews with band members, recording footage, and TV appearances.

So these discs leave a good deal of the enigma intact. And sure, many will argue this is the appeal of Can and the reason why jaded music nerds inevitably download Tago Mago and find pure shock and amazement. Still, a proper documentary is required to delve with brute ambition into the core reasons for Can’s longevity, respect amongst peers and slept-on experimentation.

-Kyle Munzenrieder