Posted on 05/03/2005 7:34:34 AM PDT by Valin
The first live show for 36 years by Eric Clapton's blues/rock "power trio" may have attracted the attentions of the media, but it has had difficulty snaring anyone under 40; young people are conspicuous by their absence from the bars and foyers of the Royal Albert Hall. The atmosphere is less like a rock concert than a corporate hospitality tent at Wimbledon. Paunchy men in sports jackets clink ice in gin and tonics, and mumsy ladies fan themselves with pricey souvenir programmes. Presumably some of them were here the last time Cream played the Royal Albert Hall, squinting at the band's November 1968 farewell concert through a fug of aromatic smoke. Tonight, however, the air is thick with something else, not as pungent, but no less heady: nostalgia for a lost era, when a 15-minute drum solo called Toad could have your average audience roaring their approval, rather than clambering over each other to reach the exits.
You can see why anyone who wasn't there at the time might approach Cream's surprise reformation with trepidation. History frequently gives the impression Cream were formed for the specific purpose of giving the Jimi Hendrix Experience something to upstage. Hendrix, rather unsportingly, fetched up in London two weeks after their first gig, and immediately set about making them look a bit stodgy. He has continued to do so after his death; one of the few benefits attached to choking on your own vomit at 27 being that it prevents you from reaching middle age, donning an Armani suit and crooning deadly soft rock ballads about how your wife looks wonderful tonight. In addition, as Clapton notes between songs, Cream "didn't go on for very long - the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune cut us off in our prime" - but their 2 year career was responsible for generating a lot of concepts that leave you wondering whether listening to rock music is such an edifying way to spend your time.
Their star-heavy line up of Clapton, drummer Ginger Baker and bassist Jack Bruce gave birth to the notion of the supergroup, in which already-famous rock musicians struggle to squeeze their collective egos into a confined space, usually with artistically disastrous results. Their massive-grossing US tours gave rise to the concept of stadium rock as we know it today. And their deathless penchant for extended soloing gave rise to improvisatory jazz-rock, perhaps the most noisome genre in musical history. After the band's split, Clapton dismissed its "maestro bullshit", but tonight, he seems worryingly reconciled to it. "We're going to play for as long as we can," he announces happily, a remark greeted with deafening cheers, rather than the deeply apprehensive gulp it warrants. A computer generated approximation of a psychedelic slideshow bathes the back of the stage, but what is startling about Cream's oeuvre is how decidedly un-cosmic it sounds in the cold light of 2005. Spoonful and Sleepy Time Time offer a curiously straightforward take on the blues: the solos may be lengthy, and accompanied by much pursing of the lips, frowning etc, but they're oddly prosaic and polished. You get a brief glimpse of what the fuss was about during Rollin' and Tumblin', when Bruce abandons his bass guitar in favour of a harmonica, and Clapton and Baker churn out a frantic, clattering riff. Baker turns out to be the evening's surprise star. A noticeable resemblance to Wilfred Bramble in Steptoe and Son bodes ill, but his drumming is fantastic, adding a snapping, raw edge. In fact, it is Cream's theoretically less substantial material that stands up best four decades on. Full of snaking melodic turns and false endings, Badge is simply a fantastic pop song. Deserted Cities of the Heart strikes an admirable balance between lush vocal harmonies and hulking, muscular power, and even the whimsical psych-pop oddity Pressed Rat and Warthog has the sort of character you are hard-pressed to find in less arcane areas of Cream's catalogue.
Whether their reformation is enough to firm up Cream's shaky place in the pantheon of rock legends is a moot point. But as the crowd rises mid-song to cheer another Clapton solo, and coloured lights bounce off balding pates in the stalls, you suspect that contemporary reappraisal is the last thing their fans are interested in.
Yes.
Yeah...Im not familiar with the models per se.
The older Marshall amps used EL34 / 6CA7 output tubes...which are power pentodes. They distort differently than the later amps which used (I believe) KT-88, which is a power tetrode tube. Sun also used KT-88's. The EL34, combined with the Celestion speakers made a fatter sound IMO.
I still have an old Magnatone amp which also used EL34s...I souped it up by increasing the supply to try and get a fat sound...but the amp still was biased a little too clean. I used JB Lansing speakers...which gave a bright sound and had lots of power efficiency. Dont know if they still make the instrument speakers...they were always pretty expensive.
There are web sites where you can get all the old schematics ...I may build a retro souped up Marshall amp some day..just for the hell of it.
The Fender amps all used 6L6G output tubes...which distorted differently from the other tubes. I dont know why the Fender Tweed series sounded differently from the later Fenders..I thought they both used the same tubes...maybe the later amps went with solid state rectifiers...which would give less compression than the tube rectifiers.
This is all techno geek tube amp stuff...feel free to disregard.
Jim Marshall tried to incorporated much of the design of the '58 - 60 Fender Bassman into his first amps, and he succeeded. ....although the Fenders were both easier to work on and more reliable.
I like old Hiwatts -- built like tanks.
Thank you, Perfect Stranger, for the info on Ginger. I have a 1990 Masters of Reality release, but I thought they were a "one hit wonder"; Sugar Girl got some modest airplay at the time, but I had no idea Chris Gross had such a history! Since you didn't mention the name of the Masters of Reality CD Ginger appeared on, I'll mention it here, to save the next person from having to do the serarch; it is entitled: "Give Us Barabbas" Thanks again!
Thanks for the title. I borrowed the CD from the guitar player in my band and copied it to my HD so I never paid much attention to the name.
Your welcome.
There are (cough cough) "private recordings" of the May 5 show at the RAH floating around........
They did a version of Stormy Monday that was absolutely remarkable. Strat or Gibson, EC is still god.
Without Cream there wouldn't have been Zeppelin, or any other hard rock band for that matter. Cream were it.....and from what I've heard they still are.
Amazing.
placemarker
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