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| justinkurian |
From CNN.com
After four decades, the legendary trio returns to the stage
LONDON, England (CNN) -- It could have gone all terribly wrong. Jack Bruce could have passed out during his bass solo. Ginger Baker could have expired amid a flurry of drumsticks. Or the two could have just beaten each other silly right there on stage. All the while guitarist Eric Clapton would be gently weeping in the wings.
None of this would have surprised Cream fans in the 1960s -- the acrimony and excesses within the supergroup being as well known as their musical riffs.
But that was then, this is now.
Thirty-seven years ago after the group performed its final concert at Royal Albert Hall, the trio returned to the same venue on Monday, much changed but still very much revered.
"Thanks for waiting all these years," Clapton admonished the crowd during the first of four sold-out concerts in London. "We're going to play every song we know."
Well, not quite. In just over two hours, Cream ripped through 18 songs -- beginning with "I'm So Glad" and then on to "Spoonful," "Badge," "Born Under a Bad Sign," Sitting On Top of the World" and "White Room."
After a tentative start and strained vocals on the first song, the group grew tighter, more assured and even energized. It was during "White Room" and the encore offering of "Sunshine of Your Love" that the audience -- and the group -- seemed to be dragged (singing and swaying) from the past into the present, without missing a beat.
Cream burst onto the scene unexpectedly in 1966 -- three musicians little known outside their individual musical spheres but very much aware of their own abilities, as was evident in the choice of group's name. And for just over two years (from 1966 to 1968), they were indeed the crème de la crème.
Clapton, now 60, was still in his teens when he showed himself to be a guitar wizard with the Yardbirds and then legendary John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers. It was Baker who first approached Clapton about forming a group. It was Clapton who suggested Bruce as the third member -- an idea that didn't go down well with Baker, who had fallen out with the Scotsman when they were both members of the Graham Bond Organisation, a British rhythm and blues band. Despite the animosity between the two -- something that would take on violent overtones and self-destructive behavior in years ahead -- Baker and Bruce agreed to work together again.
Gone on Monday was the acrimony, along with the extended improvisations and half-hour solos.
Somewhere in the vacuum of career transitions and personal crisis, Clapton and company appear to have become a group, perhaps really for the first time. Mature, paced and professional, and begging the question: How good would these guy have been in the early days if not for drugs, alcohol and egos?
Still, as Baker launched into his obligatory drum solo (at just six minutes, far shorter than his trademark outings), a fan yelled out, "You go old man." He didn't need the encouragement.
Why the three agreed to a reunion at this time and place is not yet clear. They're not talking publicly.
Clapton certainly doesn't need the money. The others clearly do, but at what cost to their physical well-being? Bruce had a liver transplant in 2003, while Baker reportedly suffers from arthritis.
But Clapton hinted at a possible reunion in 1993, when the band was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and played a brief set for the audience. "I was moved," Clapton is quoted as saying in "To The Limits," a 2003 book by Forbes magazine's Jim Clash. "I was in some other place. It's been so long since I've been around something from somebody else that's inspired me." Up until then, he added, "it's been up to me to inspire me."
For his part, Bruce, 61, has admitted that cash has also been a factor but so has Cream's place in history." Apart from the money... that band tends to get overlooked these day," he says in Clash's book. "Led Zeppelin, for instance, has gotten a lot of recognition, and quite rightly so. But, it seems to be forgotten that Cream and (Jimi) Hendrix really created that audience. A reunion would help clarify that."
Baker, 65, who struggled with a heroin addiction for many years, had been less enthusiastic about getting back together. "A lot of people think I'm dead... But that's nothing new," he tells Clash. "There was a point where I wanted to do it, when I totally went broke.... That is not a reason to do something, you know." But they did do it, and now the question is: Why did anyone care? Earlier this month, the poet Pete Brown -- who, along with Bruce, wrote many of Cream's best-known songs -- told The Telegraph newspaper the band's enduring appeal was simply a matter of quality. "There's really no substitute for great playing and writing," he said. "You can chuck things into a computer and get people off the street who look great, but in the end they aren't going to do anything that lasts."
On a Monday evening in London, four decades on, that quality came through loud (but not too loud) and clear.
And to answer the question of why and why now on Clapton's behalf ... with many of his old friends and colleagues now dead, it's perhaps comforting to be encircled by those who helped get you where you are today. The comfort of friends reconciled and wiser ... while they last.
For those who missed Monday's concert, and the others, the marketers have been busy.
"I Feel Free - Ultimate Cream," a 2 CD set billed as "the definitive collection from the original supergroup," was released on Monday. They include in studio and live performances by Cream.
There's also a "Special Edition - Limited Deluxe" 3 CD box set, which includes BBC sessions and interviews with Clapton.
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| gimmekeef |
Yes...ultimately with every group Stones included...its always about the money $$$$$$$$$$ |
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| justinkurian |
One more...this one is from the NY Times.
May 2, 2005
With Egos Set Aside and Blues on Its Mind, Cream Reunites
By JON PARELES
LONDON, May 2 - Cream was a crisp, tautly rehearsed band on Monday night in its first full-length concert since 1968. Eric Clapton on guitar, Jack Bruce on bass and Ginger Baker on drums sounded as if they had every song mapped out from introductory riff to precise finish. Their voices were strong; their musicianship was impeccable. Their set list even had a few surprises.
Cream was back at the Royal Albert Hall, where it had played the final concert of its two-year career on Nov. 26, 1968. Between then and now, Cream's only reunion was to play three songs when it was inducted into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame in 1993. Monday's concert was the first of four sold-out shows being filmed for the inevitable DVD; plans beyond that have not been announced. Scalpers were getting $1,000 a ticket.
"Thanks for waiting all these years," Mr. Clapton said onstage. "We didn't go very long. The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune cut us off in our prime."
Mr. Baker spoke up: "This is our prime, what do you mean?"
Yet the neatness and order of the music were precisely what made Cream's first return engagement underwhelming. It wasn't unity that made Cream one of the great 1960's rock bands. It was the same friction - of personalities, methods and ambitions - that would soon tear the band apart.
From July 1966 to November 1968, Cream came up with songs that were an unlikely blend of Anglicized blues, eccentric pop structures, psychedelic surrealism, melancholia and comic relief. Along with the Jimi Hendrix Experience, Cream would define both power-trio rock and the potential of jam bands.
In its most incendiary 1960's shows, Cream played like three simultaneous soloists, relentlessly competitive and brilliantly volatile. Back then, Mr. Clapton didn't need Robert Johnson's hellhound on his trail; he had Mr. Baker and Mr. Bruce snapping at his heels, goading him with bass countermelodies and bursts of polyrhythm. It was the brashness of youth in sync with the experimental spirit of the era. Cream played with reckless intensity, as if sure that all the risks would pay off; most often, they did.
Since Cream broke up, Mr. Clapton has had million-selling albums, Grammy Awards and regular arena tours; his music has grown more temperate. Mr. Bruce followed his musicianly impulses, starting other rock trios (including one in 1994 with Mr. Baker) while also delving into jazz and various fusions. Mr. Baker joined Mr. Clapton's short-lived supergroup, Blind Faith, and went on to build West Africa's first modern recording studio in Nigeria, to farm olives in Tuscany and to run a club in Denver.
Mr. Clapton, at 60 the youngest member of Cream, was the most reluctant to reunite the group, and on Monday night, the reunited Cream deferred to him. Lately, his albums have circled back to the blues he has loved since the beginning of his career, and Cream's concert set leaned toward blues. There were borrowed ones, like "I'm So Glad," "Rollin' and Tumblin'," "Spoonful" and "Outside Woman Blues" along with Cream's own blues, like "Politician," and a Clapton showcase that's not part of the Cream discography, "Stormy Monday Blues." When Mr. Clapton took a guitar solo, he played the kind of long-lined, melodic leads, moving from symmetrical phrases to wailing peaks, that he unfolds with his own bands, while Mr. Bruce and Mr. Baker carefully nailed down the riff and the beat. They didn't challenge him much.
Mr. Baker had some rambunctious moments, dropping sly snare-drum rolls into "Sitting on Top of the World" and "Stormy Monday Blues." With his band mates offstage, he took a five-minute drum solo during "Toad" that was considerably shorter than the live recording from 1968. He also talk-sang the most unexpected song in the set, "Pressed Rat and Warthog," about shopkeepers with a peculiar inventory, then joked afterward about stocking Cream T-shirts and memorabilia.
There were stretches in "Sweet Wine" and "Sunshine of Your Love" where Cream started to hint at its old improvisatory free-for-all. But those passages were brief, quickly heading back to the song. "Crossroads," which Cream once turned into a psychedelic fireball, returned as straightforward blues-rock: not bad, but not revelatory.
The other side of Cream's repertory - Mr. Bruce's songs, like "White Room," "N.S.U." and "Deserted Cities of the Heart" - has aged differently. They, too, had a blues feeling, but more in their despondent lyrics then in their music, which stretched pop structures. Nearly four decades later, the songs have grown even more telling, as the mishaps of youth have given way to the irrevocable losses and regrets of maturity. Mr. Bruce sings them no less clearly now, but with far more poignancy. As Mr. Baker rolled mallets across his tom-toms, Mr. Clapton played slow swells of guitar and Mr. Bruce rose to the melody's falsetto peaks, "We're Going Wrong" - written on the way to Cream's 1968 breakup - was lambent in its sorrow.
Perhaps Cream's caution reflected first-night jitters about living up to decades of anticipation. In a set that lasted less than two hours, there was ample room for songs to expand if the chemistry was right. With any luck, Cream was just getting reignited.
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| J.J.Flash |
Even if told by themselves (except for Clapton) it is all about money....quite frankly....I don't give a flying fuck......come on.....these 3 prime musicians deserve all the fuss with this reunion. Jack Bruce was a helluva singer.....his harmony along with Eric Clapton is heavenly.
I'm dying to know if there was any Rocks Offer among us who witnessed this orgasmic event. Is anybody here going to see them?
Folks..... you have no idea how much I love Cream.......
Was the gig broadcast? Is there anybody that tapped it? Is there any pictures available?
Thank you very much for posting. I hope I can read more Cream articles and news. Keep 'em coming!
COuld anybody answer to my simple questions?
TIA
[Edited by J.J.Flash]
[Edited by J.J.Flash] |
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| justinkurian |
Reviewers gush over Cream reunion concert
Associated Press
Updated: Tue. May. 3 2005 8:52 AM ET
LONDON — Reviewers hailed the reunion of Cream, the rock supergroup, though they found it hard to resist comments about the advanced age of the performers and the audience.
More than 25 years after their last performance together, Eric Clapton, now 60, Jack Bruce, 61, and Ginger Baker, 65, pulled a sold-out house at the Royal Albert Hall on Monday night. The band simply walked on stage unannounced and dug into "I'm So Glad."
After two more songs, each received with a standing ovation, Clapton said. "Thanks for waiting all those years!"
"We'll probably play everything we know -- we'll play as long as we can," he told the crowd.
The cheering continued in Tuesday's review columns.
"They were never less than good, often brilliant, occasionally inspired," David Cheal wrote in The Daily Telegraph. "And they got better as the night went on."
The group played its farewell concert at the Albert Hall on Nov. 26, 1968, and most of the audience dated from that era.
"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 programs," Alex Petridis wrote in The Guardian.
Petridis found the performance a pale shadow of Cream's brief glory years.
"You get a brief glimpse of what the fuss was about during 'Rollin' and Tumblin,' when Bruce abandons his bass guitar in favor of a harmonica, and Clapton and Baker churn out a frantic, clattering riff," Petridis wrote.
The same tune wowed Cheal.
"Rollin' and Tumblin,' with Bruce on harmonica, was sensational, an express train of a song, hurtling along with purpose, power and unstoppable momentum. For the first of many occasions during the evening, I had to sit, blink, look around the stage and remind myself that I was watching Cream at the Albert Hall -- and they were very, very good," Cheal wrote.
"Inevitably, they were a diminished version of their former selves," he wrote. "... They are not young men, and they were not playing, as they once did, as if their lives depended on it."
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| justinkurian |
From timesonline.co.uk
Cream
David Sinclair at the Albert Hall
RARELY does a rock show come with so much historical baggage. Thirty-seven years since they had last played a concert together — at the Albert Hall on November 26, 1968 — Eric Clapton, Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker returned there last night.
A lifetime had passed, for both group and audience, and it looked like it. Fans who might last have seen the original power trio when they were at school are now captains of industry.
Never before have the founding members of a group of this order made the transition from pioneers to nostalgic turn in one such gigantic step. Their reward was a tumultuous standing ovation before they had even played a note — and a succession of standing ovations after virtually every number they played thereafter. The rest of the time, however, the audience although clearly enthused, remained firmly in their seats.
The group, while evidently well-rehearsed and very happy to be on stage together, were not about to revisit the shock-and-awe tactics for which they are best remembered. During the opening salvo of I’m So Glad and Spoonful they made a few brief, tentative steps in the direction of an improvised free-for-all, but the closest they came to reviving the grandstanding habits of old was an extended solo section in Sweet Wine.
Instead they played with a newfound economy of effort that worked to best advantage on some of their more out of the way, pop-flavoured songs including Deserted Cities of the Heart and a surprise inclusion of Pressed Rat And Warthog, the lysergic nursery rhyme narrated by Baker in his cockney growl.
There were the odd fumbles here and there. During a raucous Rollin’ and Tumblin’, Bruce found it was his harmonica that was doing the rolling and tumbling somewhere between hand and mouth. Baker dropped a stick during the ensuing Stormy Monday Blues and completely missed the turnaround at the end of the first chorus of White Room. But these were minor quibbles.
Clapton, at 60, was not only the youngest and fittest of the three, but also the most comfortable in this elevated environment and, almost without trying, acquitted himself as first among equals. His soloing was simply outstanding, as was Bruce’s vocal performance, especially on Born Under a Bad Sign and Politician, although the relaxed stroll which the trio took through Crossroads was a disappointment compared with the electrifying drama of the classic version as captured on Wheels of Fire.
It ended with Baker playing his signature drum solo Toad. Here again the arrangement was more in the concise spirit of the studio recording of the number on Fresh Cream than the rambling 15-minute assault course of the live version on Wheels of Fire. It was noticeable how he made every beat count, striking his toms with incredible precision to produce that familiar sound of logs rolling down a mountainside.
You can’t turn back the clock, and in truth, they didn’t try. But it was still a tremendous thrill to see the three of them together again after all these years.
Cream play three more shows at the Albert Hall, tonight, Thursday and Friday
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| justinkurian |
A real review...from the Telegraph:
Diminished version of their former selves, but very, very good
By David Cheal
(Filed: 03/05/2005)
When I first heard that Cream were getting back together for a series of concerts at the Albert Hall, I called out across the arts desk: "I have to be there."
This, surely, was the mother of all reunions, the great sixties super group back together on stage 37 years after they called it a day - and in the very same concert hall where they performed their farewell show in 1968.
I had good reason to stake my claim to that precious reviewing slot: Best of Cream was the first album I ever bought, a precocious teenager hooked on the British blues boom of the sixties, but this one was personal.
Along with the excitement came the nagging worries. The three members of Cream are all now in their sixties. Drummer Ginger Baker has an arthritic knee. Bassist Jack Bruce has had a liver transplant. Would it be a night to recapture the magic of their famous semi-improvised jams, or would it be turn out to be an embarrassment, three wrinkly old rockers desperately trying to recapture their glorious youths?
Well, it didn't exactly hit the ground running. Having been greeted with a huge roar of affection from the crowd, they limbered up with the lightweight I'm So Glad. Eric Clapton rattled off a so so solo. Bruce sounded tense.
Song two, the slow, slinky blues of Spoonful, was more encouraging: Bruce's voice started to show some grit, the music began to click. Clapton's solo here was sharper, fiercer, more fluent. Strange, though, to see him as just one third of a band, rather than as the star of the show.
When they'd been on stage for 20 odd minutes I did begin to wonder whether this was going to be a bit of a letdown: another slow blues tune, Sleepy Time Baby, reinforced this impression.
Then came NSU, their first chance to embark on one of those famous instrumental excursions. Baker drove the song along in his utterly distinctive and deceptively easy going style, Bruce's fingers were flying, Clapton began to strut. Then came Badge, and Clapton gave us one of his yodels. Finally, Cream were up and running.
Politician was dark and groovy. Rolling and Tumbling, with Bruce on harmonica, was sensational, an express train of a song, hurtling along with purpose, power and unstoppable momentum. For the first of many occasions during the evening, I had to sit, blink, look around the stage and remind myself that I was watching Cream at the Albert Hall - and they were very, very good.
Inevitably, they were a diminished version of their former selves. There was less of the brutal physicality that used to be their hallmark. Bruce periodically reclined against a high stool, songs such as Crossroads were taken at a slower lick. They are not young men, and they were not playing, as they once did, as if their lives depended on it.
But they were never less than good, often brilliant, occasionally inspired. And they got better as the night went on. White Room was massive, glorious.
Many reunions are tawdry, half-baked affairs. But this one was different, special. It didn't quite live up to the expectation, but still: in years to come, I'll be able to say with pride: Cream, Albert Hall, 2005. I was there.
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| Gimme Shelter |
I wish they would do a world tour. |
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| justinkurian |
From rollingstone.com
Cream Rise in London
Rock & Roll Hall of Famers rediscover blues ancient and modern at Royal Albert Hall
On November 26, 1968, Cream walked off the stage at London's Royal Albert Hall for what they fully expected to be the last time. Exhausted by infighting and non-stop touring, their rare instrumental telepathy creeping into formula and all but obliterated by arena-PA volume, rock's first supergroup -- guitarist Eric Clapton, bassist Jack Bruce and drummer Ginger Baker, already individual stars in Britain when they formed in 1966 -- held rock's first super-wake in this majestic Victorian concert hall, playing two final shows of what Clapton once described as "Blues Ancient and Modern" to audiences that literally begged them not to go, with massed cries of "God save the Cream!"
Those prayers were finally answered, thirty-seven years later. At 8:10 p.m. on May 2nd, Clapton, Bruce and Baker walked back on to that stage to a standing, delirious, disbelieving ovation, opening the first of four shows this week at the Albert Hall with the perfect, galloping sentiment: the Skip James blues "I'm So Glad," from their first album, Fresh Cream. This was, admittedly, not the breakneck, juggernaut Cream of the concert half of 1968's Wheels of Fire or the post-mortem live albums. Clapton's old wall of Marshall cabinets was gone; he played through just two small tube amps, with a Leslie for that majestic bridge lick in "Badge." And Clapton has long since exchanged the assaultive snarl of his original Cream weapons -- the Gibson SG and Les Paul -- for the cleaner ring and bite of a Stratocaster. There was less assault in the music, but more air, which allowed the original swing in Cream's power blues to come through: the conversational way Bruce improvised inside Clapton's slalom runs and grinding notes during the instrumental breaks in "Spoonful" and "N.S.U."; the taut fire of Baker's snare and tom-toms under Clapton's solo in "Sleepy Time Time."
Clapton's brief remarks to the crowd suggested lingering nerves and fears of overexpectation. "Thanks for waiting all these years," he said, after a rare live outing of "Outside Woman Blues," from Disraeli Gears. "I think we're going to do every song we know," quickly noting, "We'll play them as well as we can." But when Clapton pointed out that "the slings and arrows of misfortune cut us down in our prime," Bruce was having none of it. "What do you mean?" he interjected with needling glee. "This is our prime."
It was a bold claim for a band, which, with the exception of a brief reunion set at their 1991 induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, had not played together in nearly four decades. And much that was once remarkable and unique to Cream -- the fusion and compression of jazz and blues dynamics into pop song; the instrumental democracy of the power trio; the license to jam at great length -- is now established rock & roll language and tradition. But the deliberate tautness of the performances tonight, sounding at first uncomfortably close to overrestraint, was probably closer to the way Cream first heard themselves in 1966 and early '67 -- a modern R&B trio of equal, virtuoso soloists; blues purists with futurist nerve -- before the live extremes and routines of '68 took over.
Many of the highpoints were in the details: the odd bent and time of Bruce's and Clapton's twinned riffing in "Politician" against Baker's straight, anchoring motion; the heightened tension of Bruce's high, choking bass notes and Baker's tom-tom bombs under Clapton's solo in "Sweet Wine." In a stunning exhumation of the trance-rock gem "We're Going Wrong," from Disraeli Gears, Baker's mallets rolled across his tom-toms in liquid 6/4 time as Bruce sang with operatic despair over the simple, climbing tension of Clapton's strumming. And at the end of the encore, "Sunshine of Your Love," Clapton, Bruce and Baker locked into a powerful, mounting suspense, a droning, one-chord crescendo that, frankly, climaxed too soon with a final reentry into that immortal riff.
The only venture outside Cream's recorded library was a cover of T-Bone Walker's "Stormy Monday," a Clapton vocal-and-guitar showcase that made clear how the balance of power and celebrity has shifted since he was the band's junior genius and the quiet mediator between Bruce's and Baker's combative tempers. "Crossroads" also bore the matured Clapton's touch, taken at the country-funk gait he has long favored in his own shows. But the surprise of the night was the focused power and undiminished strength of Baker, who sat ramrod straight as he fired off precise, provocative accents -- cymbal stings, snare gunshots and double-kick-drum eruptions -- without loosening his grip on the pulse. Even in the inevitable "Toad," he soloed with startling control, never breaking the snapping, high-hat beat as his sticks flew over the rest of his kit.
And it was Baker who left the audience with the defining image of the night: stepping out from behind his drums after "Sunshine of Your Love" with a huge smile, pumping his fists in the air like a former championship boxer who had just gone twenty rounds with history -- and won.
The set list:
I'm So Glad
Spoonful
Outside Woman Blues
Pressed Rat and Warthog
Sleepy Time Time
N.S.U.
Badge
Politician
Sweet Wine
Rolling and Tumbling'
Stormy Monday
Deserted Cities of the Heart
Born Under a Bad Sign
We're Going Wrong'
Crossroads
Sitting on Top of the World
White Room
Toad
Sunshine of Your Love
DAVID FRICKE
(Posted May 03, 2005) |
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| FPM C10 |
I would LOVE to see these guys. They were the first "underground" band I got into in grade school, and Disraeli Gears was the first album I bought with my own money.
That setlist is RIGHTEOUS. They seem to REALLY be doing this right. Those critics who were bitching just a little because they weren't sailing off into three seperate solos in every song are really missing the point. Hearing them actually PLAY the songs, rather than playing jams based loosely on them, is something brand new, and I'd give a lot to hear it.
Can't believe Clapton didn't go back to a Gibson for the occasion, though!
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| Zack |
If a boot of one of the shows pops up, let's tree it! I would imagine a live album would be in the offing later though. It would sell I think. |
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| Honky Tonk Man |
A Best Of has been released to coincide with these shows.
I agree with Zack, we must tree these shows! |
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| J.J.Flash |
quote:
FPM C10 wrote:
I would LOVE to see these guys. They were the first "underground" band I got into in grade school, and Disraeli Gears was the first album I bought with my own money.
That setlist is RIGHTEOUS. They seem to REALLY be doing this right. Those critics who were bitching just a little because they weren't sailing off into three seperate solos in every song are really missing the point. Hearing them actually PLAY the songs, rather than playing jams based loosely on them, is something brand new, and I'd give a lot to hear it.
[...]
Also, I would like to reinforce that those critics who were bitching just a little because they weren't sailing off into three seperate solos in every song are really missing the point.
Nuff said!
Thank you very much Flea....that's what I was talking about.
I would like to nuzzle you!
Friskee!
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| kath |
oh man!!!! what i would not have given to have been there.......sweeeeet cream!!! |
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| FPM C10 |
They look good for a bunch of old duffers!
I'm at the point now where (musically, anyway) I don't trust anyone under 60! |
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