Recorded on Halloween night in 1975, the set captured on Live in Stuttgart 1975 took place not long after Landed’s release, but you would never know that without the date in the title. Not only is that record unrepresented here, Can also avoid the more cosmic and meditative sounds that defined Landed’s immediate predecessors, 1973’s Future Days and 1974’s Soon Over Babaluma. Still readjusting to life as a four-piece following the departure of vocalist Damo Suzuki, the Can we hear on Live in Stuttgart 1975 seem intent on reconnecting with the psych-funk fury that powered their primordial ’69-to-’72 phase. Doing away with vocals or recognizable songs of any kind, the five pieces here—demarcated numerically as “Eins,” “Zwei,” “Drei,” “Vier,” and “Funf”—provide exhilarating extended views of rock’s most forward-thinking band at their most unrestrained.

Live in Stuttgart 1975 makes the case that Can weren’t so much a jam band as an expedition team: Each member was given the complete freedom to explore his own path, but everyone was heading toward the same horizon, unified in their effort to breach the great beyond. That leads to some thrilling moments of intersection along the way, like when, nine and a half minutes into the warm-up exercise “Eins,” Czukay and Liebezeit lock into a taut groove that evokes Sly and the Family Stone’s “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin),” while Michael Karoli’s bluesy guitar jangle and Schmidt’s honking keyboards playfully joust overtop. Even when it seems like one player is seizing the reins, that only serves to egg on the others: “Zwei” plays out like a mash-up of Tago Mago’s “Oh Yeah” and Future Days’ “Bel Air,” before Karoli’s stargazing solo freezes the song dead in its tracks, only for Liebezeit to bring it back to life, roaring at double the speed.

Liebezeit has long been the sort of drummer that can send you down YouTube wormholes in search of any footage that might prove such loose yet powerfully precise backbeats came from an actual human being. You’ll want to take another deep dive after getting swept up in the cyclonic undertow of “Drei,” which is loosely based on Ege Bamyasi’s opening jam, “Pinch,” but carries on for 35 glorious minutes of relentless, fleet-footed funk and carnivalesque clamor, with the players displaying the kind of superhuman physical exertion that makes you want to hand them towels and cups of Gatorade. And just when it seems like Liebezeit is running out of gas around the half-hour mark, he uses the cooling-off period to his advantage, relaxing in the pocket and transforming Can into the world’s freakiest boogie band for the home stretch.

“Drei” is obviously Live in Stuttgart 1975’s unbeatable peak, but the comedown carries its own rewards: “Vier” is a spectacular showcase for Karoli’s deeply emotive playing, which, when combined with Liebezeit’s accelerated thwack, reinvents Can as the motorik Santana. And while the closing “Funf” occasionally gives way to aimlessness, Liebezeit’s militaristic drum patterns and Czukay’s bug-eyed basslines can invest even the most shapeless track with a dramatic intensity. Sure, 90 minutes of free-flowing instrumental workouts may seem daunting to more casual Can fans who prefer their kosmische musik spiked with more digestible doses of “Vitamin C.” But devoted heads who surrender to the tide will no doubt emerge from Live in Stuttgart 1975 with another Can maxim in mind: I want more.