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 would add "Deserted Cities of the Heart" (especially the version on Live Cream Vol. 2)
Last Clapton album I bought was Crossroads, an early 90s blues compilation. Very well done, and included good stuff from the Mayall period and some unreleased material.
The JTM-45.
Although Gibsons also go well with narrow-panel tweed Fender amps (especially the '58-'60 Bassmans and Deluxes). However, they don't sound quite right with blackface and silverface Fenders, imo. .....they seem to lack the midrange and harmonics of the tweeds.
Patty Harrison happened as I recall. Along with narcotics and depression. Hence Layla.
Always a blues rock person, I ditched Clapton when he went "laid back".
I did see him around '72 or thereabouts in Tampa (before the Led Zep riot shut down the stadium for rock concerts). I guess he was good. Things are a little fuzzy around that time.
I completely agree with you on the strat gibson combo, seems together they cover a wider sound spectrum. Our band uses many combos, Strat - Les Paul / Tele - Strat / Heritage - Strat / SG - Strat / Strat - Pedal Steel
I'm also partial to the P-90 pickups
I just noticed the keywords on this thread.
No wonder alot of modern pop music today is completely worthless androgynous dreck. This so called snotty review is exactly indicative of that. Music is a tradition...a continum of ideas. You listen to those who went before you...listen and learn something.
Tell you what...at least those oldtimers played music that had some balls to it. Alot of young people today are just so PC its nauseating.
I would LOVE to have the DVD. I was in my mid-teens when their first album came out, and I bought my Gibson EB-3 because Jack Bruce had one. I can remember tuning my stereo so that all I could hear were the bass riffs. :-)
Ah yes. Steve Winwood.
We are the old, we've got arthritis
Our gums are weak (so weak), from gingivitis
We are the old, we've got arthritis
We are the ones who wear bifocals, and have bursitis
There are people younger, but we heed another call
We really need the money, our accountants took it all
We sing to you, those who have money
Once we was cool, but now we just dress funny
We need your help, so please please dig deep
Don't call after ten, 'cause we'll be asleep
We have medicare, and anti-gas pills
But without your help, we can't pay our alimony bills
We are the old, [they are the old]
We have arthritis [they have arthritis]
Once we were gods, now golf excites us [golf excites 'em]
So write a check (a really big one), for our december
There's one more verse, but we can't remember...
Like I said Crossroads had one of the best guitar solos of all time but after that I never wanted to try cocaine and I was not impressed with the rest of Clapton's carreer. Although "Slowhand" was a good album and there were some other records/songs that I liked.
regards!
After reading this I had to crank up my Les Paul and jam on Sunshine Of Your Love at a volume that must've had my neighbors cursing the day of my birth.
No SWLABR?
Pity.
By not dying.
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