CREAM's SECOND ALBUM

Original released on  LP Reaction 594 003 

(UK 1967, November 10)

Cream teamed up with producer Felix Pappalardi for their second album, "Disraeli Gears", a move that helped push the power trio toward psychedelia and also helped give the album a thematic coherence missing from the debut. This, of course, means that Cream get further away from the pure blues improvisatory troupe they were intended to be, but it does get them to be who they truly are: a massive, innovative power trio. The blues still courses throughout "Disraeli Gears" - the swirling kaleidoscopic "Strange Brew" is built upon a riff lifted from Albert King - but it's filtered into saturated colors, as it is on "Sunshine of Your Love," or it's slowed down and blurred out, as it is on the ominous murk of "Tales of Brave Ulysses." It's a pure psychedelic move that's spurred along by Jack Bruce's flourishing collaboration with Pete Brown. Together, this pair steers the album away from recycled blues-rock and toward its eccentric British core, for with the fuzzy freakout "Swlabr," the music hall flourishes of "Dance the Night Away," the swinging "Take It Back," and of course, the old music hall song "Mother's Lament," this is a very British record. Even so, this crossed the ocean and also became a major hit in America, because regardless of how whimsical certain segments are, Cream are still a heavy rock trio and "Disraeli Gears" is a quintessential heavy rock album of the '60s. Yes, its psychedelic trappings tie it forever to 1967, but the imagination of the arrangements, the strength of the compositions, and especially the force of the musicianship make this album transcend its time as well. (Stephen Erlewine in AllMusic)

GOODBYE TO CREAM

Original Released on LP ATCO 7001 (US 1969/02/05)

Gravado em parte ao vivo, no Forum de Los Angeles, em Outubro de 1968, e em parte nos estúdios IBC de Londres, em Dezembro de 1968. Último album do grupo, e por isso mesmo com um título a condizer, atingiria o 1º lugar britânico e o 2º lugar norte-americano nas respectivas tabelas de venda.

After a mere three albums in just under three years, Cream called it quits in 1969. Being proper gentlemen, they said their formal goodbyes with a tour and a farewell album called — what else? — "Goodbye". As a slim, six-song single LP, it's far shorter than the rambling, out-of-control "Wheels of Fire", but it boasts the same structure, evenly dividing its time between tracks cut on-stage and in the studio. While the live side contains nothing as indelible as "Crossroads," the live music on the whole is better than that on "Wheels of Fire", capturing the trio at an empathetic peak as a band. It's hard, heavy rock, with Cream digging deep into their original "Politician" with the same intensity as they do on "Sitting on Top of the World," but it's the rampaging "I'm So Glad" that illustrates how far they've come; compare it to the original studio version on "Fresh Cream" and it's easy to see just how much further they're stretching their improvisation. The studio side also finds them at something of a peak. Boasting a song apiece from each member, it opens with the majestic classic "Badge," co-written by Eric Clapton and George Harrison and ranking among both of their best work. It's followed by Jack Bruce's "Doing That Scrapyard Thing," an overstuffed near-masterpiece filled with wonderful, imaginative eccentricities, and finally, there's Ginger Baker's tense, dramatic "What a Bringdown," easily the best original he contributed to the group. Like all of Cream's albums outside "Disraeli Gears", "Goodbye" is an album of moments, not a tight cohesive work, but those moments are all quite strong on their own terms, making this a good and appropriate final bow. (Stephen Thomas Erlewine in AllMusic)

CREAM: "WHEELS OF FIRE"

Original released on Double LP Polydor 

582 031 2 (mono) / SPDLP 2 (stereo)

(UK, 1968-08-09)

If "Disraeli Gears" was the album where Cream came into their own, its successor, "Wheels of Fire", finds the trio in full fight, capturing every side of their multi-faceted personality, even hinting at the internal pressures that soon would tear the band asunder. A dense, unwieldy double album split into an LP of new studio material and an LP of live material, it's sprawling and scattered, at once awesome in its achievement and maddening in how it falls just short of greatness. It misses its goal not because one LP works and the other doesn't, but because both the live and studio sets suffer from strikingly similar flaws, deriving from the constant power struggle between the trio. Of the three, Ginger Baker comes up short, contributing the passable "Passing the Time" and "Those Were the Days," which are overshadowed by how he extends his solo drum showcase "Toad" to a numbing quarter of an hour and trips upon the Wind & the Willows whimsy of "Pressed Rat and Warthog," whose studied eccentricity pales next to Eric Clapton's nimble, eerily cheerful "Anyone for Tennis."

In almost every regard, "Wheels of Fire" is a terrific showcase for Clapton as a guitarist, especially on the first side of the live album with "Crossroads," a mighty encapsulation of all of his strengths. Some of that is studio trickery, as producer Felix Pappalardi cut together the best bits of a winding improvisation to a tight four minutes, giving this track a relentless momentum that's exceptionally exciting, but there's no denying that Clapton is at a peak here, whether he's tearing off solos on a 17-minute "Spoonful" or goosing "White Room" toward the heights of madness. But it's the architect of "White Room," bassist Jack Bruce, who, along with his collaborator Peter Brown, reaches a peak as a songwriter. Aside from the monumental "White Room," he has the lovely, wistful "As You Said," the cinematic "Deserted Cities of the Heart," and the slow, cynical blues "Politician," all among Cream's very best work. And in many ways "Wheels of Fire" is indeed filled with Cream's very best work, since it also captures the fury and invention (and indulgence) of the band at its peak on the stage and in the studio, but as it tries to find a delicate balance between these three titanic egos, it doesn't quite add up to something greater than the sum of its parts. But taken alone, those individual parts are often quite tremendous. (Stephen Erlewine in AllMusic)

FRESH CREAM

Original released on LP Reaction 593 001

(UK 1966, December 9)

"Fresh Cream" represents so many different firsts, it's difficult to keep count. Cream, of course, was the first supergroup, but their first album not only gave birth to the power trio, it also was instrumental in the birth of heavy metal and the birth of jam rock. That's a lot of weight for one record and, like a lot of pioneering records, "Fresh Cream" doesn't seem quite as mighty as what would come later, both from the group and its acolytes. In retrospect, the moments on the LP that are a bit unformed - in particular, the halting waltz of "Dreaming" never achieves the sweet ethereal atmosphere it aspires to - stand out more than the innovations, which have been so thoroughly assimilated into the vocabulary of rock & roll, but "Fresh Cream" was a remarkable shift forward in rock upon its 1966 release and it remains quite potent. Certainly at this early stage the trio was still grounded heavily in blues, only fitting given guitarist Eric Clapton's stint in John Mayall's Bluesbreakers, which is where he first played with bassist Jack Bruce, but Cream never had the purist bent of Mayall, and not just because they dabbled heavily in psychedelia. The rhythm section of Bruce and Ginger Baker had a distinct jazzy bent to their beat; this isn't hard and pure, it's spongy and elastic, giving the musicians plenty of room to roam.

This fluidity is most apparent on the blues covers that take up nearly half the record, especially on "Spoonful," where the swirling instrumental interplay, echo, fuzz tones, and overwhelming volume constitute true psychedelic music, and also points strongly toward the guitar worship of heavy metal. Almost all the second side of "Fresh Cream" is devoted to this, closing with Baker's showcase "Toad," but for as hard and restless as this half of the album is, there is some lightness on the first portion of the record where Bruce reveals himself as an inventive psychedelic pop songwriter with the tense, colorful "N.S.U." and the hook- and harmony-laden "I Feel Free" (not in the original edition of the album). Cream shows as much force and mastery on these tighter, poppier tunes as they do on the free-flowing jams, yet they show a clear bias toward the long-form blues numbers, which makes sense: they formed to be able to pursue this freedom, which they do so without restraint. If at times that does make the album indulgent or lopsided, this is nevertheless where Cream was feeling their way forward, creating their heavy psychedelic jazz-blues and, in the process, opening the door to all kinds of serious rock music that may have happened without "Fresh Cream", but it just would not have happened in the same fashion as it did with this record as precedent. (Stephen Erlewine in AllMusic)

OS BEATLES ARTIFICIAIS?

Ao folhear o nº 13 da revista “Mundo da Canção” de 15 de Dezembro de 1970, deparou-se-me um curioso texto sobre a separação dos Beatles e a sua importância relativamente a outros grupos da época. Por ter a assinatura de uma figura de destaque da música portuguesa não resisti a relembrar aqui esse texto. Que comentário lhe mereceria o seu autor, quase quarenta anos depois?

«O desaparecimento dos Beatles é uma lacuna que fica para sempre na Pop Music. No entanto não é irremediável para a continuação dessa Pop Music. Os Beatles há mais de quatro anos que eram um conjunto de estúdio e aí muitas deficiências podem ser disfarçadas. Os Beatles também há algum tempo brincavam com o mau gosto como por exemplo em “Ballad of John and Yoko” e “Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da” embora o seu último LP “Let It Be” seja das suas melhores obras. No entanto os tempos de “Yesterday”, “Here, There and Everywhere” e “Sgt. Pepper’s” iam longe e alguns conjuntos como Led Zeppelin, Cream, Blood Sweat and Tears, Chicago, Creedence Clearwater Revival e Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, menos artificiais, e actuando ao vivo vinham a ganhar terreno na consciência dos que se interessam por «estas coisas» da Pop Music. Os Beatles desapareceram, talvez nunca mais produzam nada em conjunto mas actualmente, a sua perda não é tão terrível como teria sido há cinco anos atrás. Os Beatles já não eram os melhores, eram simplesmente um dos melhores o que é diferente.

Os Cream constituíram o melhor trio até hoje conseguido na Pop Music. Eric Clapton, Jack Bruce e Ginger Baker dois anos depois de se desligarem musicalmente foram cotados em Melody Maker como o melhor solista, o melhor viola-baixo e o melhor baterista do ano. Mais do que isso eles fizeram escola e constituíram um movimento de toda a música progressiva de hoje com a dos Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Pink Floyd, Mothers Of Invention, etc... Por isso os Cream não acabaram, eles estão bem vivos em toda a música actual, mais do que os próprios Beatles cujas obras continuam a ser «embaladas luxuosamente» por todas as orquestras afinadinhas do mundo.

Os Beatles ou os Stones? Já não se pode fazer a pergunta porque os primeiros abandonaram mas a subida ao trono pelos Stones não é uma vitória por desistência, é simplesmente uma vitória.
Os dois grupos formaram-se ao mesmo tempo mas os Beatles deram-se mais depressa a conhecer através de uma publicidade mais bem feita, primeiro: não desagradar totalmente aos «menos novos», segundo: cabeleiras sim, mas penteadinhas e lacadas, terceiro: ar inofensivo, quarto: fatos de corte irrepreensível com gravata e assim os papás ficavam enternecidos a ouvir os seus filhos cantar “Eu quero agarrar a tua mão”, “Gosto de dançar contigo”, etc... enquanto os Rolling Stones cantavam blues e country sound, como se tivessem nascido em Harlem ou Louisiana ou Nova York, deixando crescer desordenamente o cabelo, aparecendo em palco sem concessões ou «sorrizinhos» para capas de revista. O facto de terem sido perseguidos pela imprensa, censura e entidades oficiais inglesas e americanas fez com que toda a juventude se alinhasse atrás deles e a perseguição teve efeito contrário. Mick Jagger torna-se o símbolo da Juventude actual naqueles dois países e o mesmo começa a acontecer na Europa.
Numa época em que a publicidade pode ter importância decisiva no lançamento de um grupo os Stones nunca se serviram dela mas, muitos sectores da imprensa internacional se utilizaram deles tentando colocá-los em xeque. De nada valeu. Ei-los no seu trono, o de personalidade, de bom gosto, de intransigência.»

Este texto é da autoria de José Cid, que no Quarteto 1111 e logo no ano seguinte, em 1971, comporia uma canção – homenagem intitulada “Ode to The Beatles”. Ele há coisas...

CREAM - Sunshine Of Your Love (1968)