Monday, May 16, 2005

Cream.

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Cream >Sunshine of Your Love
Cream >Strange Brew


Three of my friends went to London last weekend for the Cream reunion. If I liked to travel maybe I would have gone too, because Cream was the only great band I feel like I missed seeing in person. The reviews were mixed, but everyone was so glad they were there. My favorite comment was about Ginger Baker ("He looked ancient then, so he didn't look a day older.") One of my friends said she was reminded of just how much it was Jack Bruce's band. And the other realized for the first time just what a democracy there were. Everyone loved Eric Clapton, as usual.

In 1967 & 68, my high school band was really good and pretty popular, playing soul covers, with the only black lead singer --my best friend Rodney-- in our very white suburb. Typically for the time, we had a guitar, bass, drums, Farfisa organ (me). We won almost every battle of the bands we entered.

Our last gig was in June 1968; Phil and Ray (our guitarist/singer and drummer/singer) were going off to Colgate in the fall. Once again, it was a battle with four or five local bands, one of them brand new. Over the past six months we'd attempted to go psychedelic, except we didn't do drugs, and we still loved soul music more than ... whoever.

And we got killed.

The new band wasn't playing the Young Rascals, they were doing Cream covers. Like Elvis, Little Richard, and the Beatles or Bob Dylan before, like Nirvana after... the day had changed.

Cream >Sunshine of Your Love
Cream >Strange Brew

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