| April 29th, 2005 09:28 PM |
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| Ten Thousand Motels |
The fourth man in rock's greatest trio
(Filed: 28/04/2005)
ArtsTelegraph
As supergroup Cream re-form for the first time, poet Pete Brown tells Peter Culshaw how he came to co-write their classic songs
Not many groups, let alone an adventurous jazz-blues-rock outfit who last played together 37 years ago, can sell out four nights at the Albert Hall in minutes. This is the frenzy surrounding virtuoso supergroup Cream - guitarist Eric Clapton, bassist and singer Jack Bruce and drummer Ginger Baker. The band have sold an estimated 35 million records and none of their discs has ever been deleted. Albert Hall tickets are now fetching more than £200 on eBay.
When they formed in 1967, the name Cream suggested, with a touch of arrogance, that they were the premier exponents of their instruments, and it was probably true. Bruce and Baker were the rhythm section for the highly regarded Graham Bond Organisation, while Clapton astonished audiences playing blues with John Mayall.
From the start they showed an ambition previously unknown in rock. They were innovative technically, being the first band to make extensive use of effects such as wah-wah, fuzz and feedback. But above all they showed that rock could be big business, playing venues such as Madison Square Garden for 22,000 fans and opening the door for the stadium rock acts of the '70s such as Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple. A more baleful influence was that, after Cream, every rock act felt the need to play interminable solos in live shows.
But there was a fourth wheel of the Cream vehicle: poet Pete Brown, who co-wrote most of the band's greatest hits including I Feel Free, Sunshine of Your Love and White Room with Jack Bruce. I caught up with Brown last week near his home in north London. "In the '60s," he told me, "I was "basically a bum. I was sleeping on people's floors or squatting. I'd had a few menial jobs like being an agricultural worker and lift operator, but I could never get up in the morning. Writing poetry was about the only thing I could do."
Brown was part of the short-lived Poetry and Jazz scene of the mid-'60s, performing his poems with jazz musicians. "I'd always wanted to be a bohemian, but never made it to art school." One of his earlier works had the evocative title Things may come and things may go, but the art school dance goes on forever.
By the mid-'60s, he was doing "about six gigs a week and scraping by on about 20 quid a week - you could live off that then". He had met Ginger Baker through the jazz world and was asked to come up with words for Cream's first single Wrapping Paper, which he now says "crammed about 10,000 images in one song. It was a peculiar lyric about two people who can only meet in a picture in a deserted house by the sea."
Brown found he had a chemistry with Jack Bruce: "We both liked writing fast and were drawn to black music. Working with the band was very lucky for me. All of them are intelligent and well-read and capable of writing lyrics, but it seemed to work. And I lusted more to be part of the music scene than the literary one."
Once the band took off, Brown's fortunes changed dramatically. "From being on 20 quid a week I was getting cheques for 40 grand a year, which must be about £400,000 in today's money. I'd never had any money in my life and did some odd things. When the first big cheque arrived I went to Selfridge's and got a cab to wait for four hours outside while I bought half the shop."
At their best, his Cream lyrics are evocative and telegrammatic ("In the white room, with black curtains, near the station"), or capture a character like a sleazy politician ("Hey now baby, get into my big black car/Just want to show you what my politics are"). At other times they are surrealistic period pieces such as, "You've got that rainbow feel/But the rainbow has a beard" or "I met three salads on the motorway" or "Writing your name in the sea/Banging my favourite head".
"I'd probably do them differently now," he says. 'But I'm not ashamed of them. They are interesting and weird."
The band have admitted using a lot of drugs, but by the time Cream formed Brown had "given up drugs and alcohol and I haven't touched them since. It had got a bit stupid and bits were falling off me. I never knowingly took acid, although people were always spiking your tea in those days."
After Cream, he collaborated on a series of Jack Bruce solo albums, including overlooked gems such as Songs for a Tailor and Harmony Row. These days he has his own band, Pete Brown and the Interoceters, writes screenplays and is currently producing an album for Jack's son, Malcolm - "a musical genius like his father".
How does he account for the continuing interest in Cream? "There's really no substitute for great playing and writing. You can chuck things in a computer and get people off the street who look great, but in the end they aren't going to do anything that lasts."
Brown doesn't see any of Cream, and won't be drawn on what has clearly been a falling out. "I don't want to go into it, but I will say that as you get older you expect to be treated with dignity and respect."
He hasn't been invited to the any of the reunion concerts, but shows no trace of bitterness and remains thankful for his lucky break. Still, the band should send this man a pair of tickets. He did after all, co-write their biggest hits.
[Edited by Ten Thousand Motels] |
| April 30th, 2005 09:08 AM |
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| J.J.Flash |
Thanks for posting Motsie! Love when you provide these Cream articles. Damn.....I wish I was born in England, being able to see their reunion at Albert Hall |
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