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.
I never cared much for Cream or Jimi Hendrix. Both had a handful of decent songs, but I never understood the adulation that went their way.
They sold out all four (I think) shows in two hours but don't know the prices.
You are correct. Thirty seconds of Google searching *after* I posted led me to that info LOL.
Either way... I hope EC didn't play a Strat.
I've never wanted to bitch-slap a writer like I did this one after reading this. He sounds like I did 35 years ago about Sinatra, Glen Miller, Bing........
Let me find my 8x glasses and I'll help you look for it.
I also saw Blind Faith in 1969 when I was working as an usher in the Seattle Coliseum (now renamed Key Arena). I was working backstage, and when the band emerged from the tunnel to the dressing rooms, I was the first person they saw. Ginger Baker blinked in the bright lights, looked at me, smiled, and gave me the finger.
From your profile: lived in Seattle area all my life.
I think it has something to do with all the damp weather your system has been exposed to.
A Strat with those silent "lace-sensor" pickups, no doubt. That's practically akin to Ginger Baker bringing out an electric drum kit.
For a big, fat, powerful sound there's just no substitute for Gibson PAF humbuckers. ....preferably attached to a mahogany body.
Actually he has stopped using Lace Sensors and is using the new vintage noise less with that 25 db boost on his Sig model. I'd post the pic, but can't figure it out on here.
I've never cared much for virtuosity in and of itself. For me what's important is whether the song sounds good and/or what it says, and I never thought Cream or Hendrix cocnsistently sounded that great and I didn't particularly dig what they were saying. I preferred the Stones, (early) Animals, Kinks, Beach Boys, and The Doors. I'm also a bit down on The Beatles; yes, they were very creative and inventive melodically, but lyrically they were often mediocre and even embarrassing.
Ditto that, mate. Not the first effing clue in the world.
Will there be a DVD of this performance or did public TV tape it? I saw one last year on PBS that was at Royal Albert Hall which was a tribute to the late George Harrison. Ringo and Paul were there as was John Lennons son and a bunch of folks from that rock era.
'68 in Des Moines at Vet's Auditorium. Acoustics were awful but it didn't seem to matter at the time.
But they were fantastic; one of my favs.
Didn't Clapton play a Gibson SG back then as well?
Blind Faith
No ego problems there...no sir.
Cream wasn't my favorite. Hendrix was one of a kind ... unfortunately, vinyl never came close to capturing his greatness.
I preferred the Stones, (early) Animals, Kinks, Beach Boys, and The Doors.
Stones ... agreed, through the late 70's
Animals ... agree totally, but only the early stuff
Kinks ... One of my all time favorite groups. Lola vs. Powerman and the Money-go-Round is one of the top 5 rock albums of all time.
Beach Boys .. genius
Doors .. gotta disagree here. Morrison's lyrics were drivel.
Anyway, back from memory lane, gotta go back to work.
I saw that also. Good stuff.
"Middle age is having a choice between two temptations and choosing the one that'll get you home earlier."
~Dan Bennett
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