Cream Albums (7)
'Royal Albert Hall: London May 2-3-5-6 2005'
Release Date 10/4/2005
Tracks 19
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
For one reason or another, Cream reunited in the spring of 2005, setting aside nearly 40 years of acrimony for a series of gigs at the Royal Albert Hall in May, which was later followed by a few shows at Madison Square Garden about a month after souvenirs of the London shows -- a double-CD set and a double-DVD set -- were released. By that time, tickets for the New York concerts were long gone, which was understandable, since Cream had not only remained a legendary band, but it seemed extremely unlikely that they would ever play live again, so the chance to see the original power trio in the flesh was tempting. Fans who anxiously awaited this reunion might find the record of the event, bearing the unwieldy title Royal Albert Hall: London 2-3-5-6 2005, a bit anticlimactic, or a mixed blessing at the very least. The chemistry between guitarist/vocalist Eric Clapton, bassist/vocalist Jack Bruce, and drummer Ginger Baker is still palpable on this compilation of highlights from the four Royal Albert Hall shows -- it's just quite a bit more subdued than it was the last time they played together, which, discounting a one-off reunion at their 1993 induction to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, was 36 years ago. That's a long time ago and the guys are no longer restless young psychedelic bluesmen -- at time of the concerts, Eric Clapton had just turned 60, Jack Bruce was a couple weeks shy of his 62nd birthday, Ginger Baker was 65. Of course, they're hardly the only group of '60s veterans who have remained active -- the Rolling Stones released a new album of material a month before this live album, and they're all in their sixties, but there's a big difference between the two bands, and that's that the Stones kept playing together throughout the past four decades. While all three members of Cream remained relatively active (Baker recently had retired to his ranch, but kept playing professionally into the '90s, even teaming up with Bruce on occasion), they never played a unit, so they're a little rusty in terms of inter-bandmember relations, which winds up making them sound their age. Not only do they never rock as hard as the Stones do on A Bigger Bang, but Cream never approximate the furious rush of energy that the band did at its prime and there's never a sense of the push-and-pull dynamics between the three members that made the best of their lengthy jams sound alive and at times unpredictable. Part of this is down to age, not just in the sense that they're a little bit older and a little bit slower, but because those four decades have changed their style a little. Baker is a tighter drummer, lacking the reckless, volatile energy that wound up either as thrilling or turgid. Bruce can't hit the high notes anymore and doesn't roam as much on the bass, but he still manages to dominate with his fluid instrumental and vocal phrasing; plus, his bass just sounds enormous, as if it could conquer the earth. Clapton plays like a millionaire with impeccable taste, yet in this stripped-down setting, he's forced to play more than he has in years; at times, he's too refined and relies on familiar licks -- plus, his reliance on a Strat over the Gibsons that fueled his Cream sound does give this a noticeable lack of heft, even if he gets a good approximation of his classic warm tone -- but there are times, like when he holds a single note longer than Neil Young on "Cinammon Girl," that he takes greater risks than he has in years. So, this winds up being not necessarily exciting, but it's far from embarrassing, either, and there's a certain sense of admiration in hearing the trio pull it together for a respectable performance. In no way does this replace the group's original studio albums -- or the excellent BBC Sessions or even the patchwork live albums they released just after their breakup -- but this does act as a nice coda to their brief career. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
An oft-overlooked curio, Live Cream, Vol. 2 appeared at a very odd time, with very little warning, almost two years after its predecessor -- and at virtually the same time as the related (though not overlapping) History of Eric Clapton. And both showed up, not coincidentally, at a point when Clapton, unbeknownst to most of the public, was sidelined with a crippling heroin addiction -- this album helped keep him in the public eye, as a singer as well as a guitarist. On its face, Live Cream, Vol. 2 is a more ambitious album that its predecessor, offering more songs and including concert versions of two of the group's AM radio hits (as opposed to the album tracks that comprised the repertory on Live Cream, Vol. 1). And it is just about essential listening for anyone who wants to understand what Cream was about, which was live performance. Utilizing -- for the time -- state of the art mobile recording equipment, it was a significant achievement at the time in capturing the genuine sound of a high-wattage power trio on-stage, playing away at full volume; and the overall sonic excellence here must surely be credited to engineers Tom Dowd and Bill Halverson. The feeling that you are in the front row is very much in evidence, and this is largely due to their ability to capture the band's live fury with clarity and intimacy, down to every nuance of Ginger Baker's playing. As for the performances, this record does capture the band at their peak, though perhaps not at the very best moments of that peak -- the group made their reputation as a live act with epic, lengthy jams that verged on jazz, but the repertory represented here (as opposed to that on Live Cream, Vol. 1) is more focused on their pop/rock efforts, such as "White Room," "Sunshine of Your Love," "Tales of Brave Ulysses," etc., which don't lend themselves as easily (or at all) to opening out in extended jams, in the manner of, say, "N.S.U." or "Sweet Wine," or the legendary "Spoonful"; additionally, numbers such as "Sunshine of Your Love" and, in particular, "White Room," require more vocal dexterity than Clapton and bassist/singer Jack Bruce could muster in this kind of concert setting -- their singing, especially on "White Room" comes close to breaking down ("Sunshine of Your Love" fares better), whereas their playing holds together, almost better than perfect at times. "Deserted Cities of the Heart" -- which opens the album -- comes off exceptionally well as a concert piece, the bass and guitar actually combining to overcome the absences of swooping cellos, acoustic guitars, and other accompanying instruments from the studio rendition. And there is one priceless example of Cream in a full-tilt jam, on the 13-plus-minute closing cut, "Steppin' Out" -- the band's sheer energy overcomes what minor deficiencies there are in the overall sound quality. And coupled with the compact, four- to five-minute versions of "Deserted Cities of the Heart" and "Tales of Brave Ulysses," among others, the album is a vital, intense, and enjoyable listen that is ultimately rewarding. The original LP had its sonic limitations, and the original late-'80s CD showcased these more severely, but the 1998 remastered CD, part of The Cream Remasters series, solved most of those problems and offered the best sound ever heard for this album. ~ Matthew Greenwald & Bruce Eder, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Cream was a band born to the stage, a fact that the band and their record label realized the public fully understood by the number one U.S. chart placement for Wheels of Fire, with its entire live disc, and the number two chart peak for Goodbye, the posthumous release that was dominated by concert recordings. And in response to those success, we got Live Cream, Vol. 1 (originally known simply as Live Cream) in the spring of 1970, nearly 18 months after the trio's breakup. This could well be their most consistently brilliant album for sheer musicianship, though it is also a peculiar one on a couple of counts, some of which probably prevented it from reaching quite as wide an audience as it might have otherwise. Released in April 1970 and derived from tapes made at three May 1968 California shows, all of the live tracks here consist of songs originally featured on the group's least ambitious and most rudimentary album, Fresh Cream, dating from 1966 -- and as it happens, there's not a hit represented among the five songs, a fact that probably made this release seem more appealing to hardcore fans than to casual and curious listeners (who didn't know what they were missing). The performances here show how far the group had come in the nearly two years since laying down the studio originals -- take side one of the original LP, where they stretch out their playing, as well as boost it to new levels of intensity, on "N.S.U." and "Sleepy Time Time," so that the renditions here are the definitive ones, and by themselves should have made this album an essential acquisition back in 1970. But that brings us to the original side two and the 15-minute rendition of "Sweet Wine," an excursion by all three players that is worth the quarter-hour time commitment of the listener. The live portion of the album ends with their searing, rollicking high energy rendition of Muddy Waters' "Rollin' and Tumblin'." And then, for reasons not clear -- except perhaps simply that it was there, in the vaults, and seemed like a valuable piece of property, which it was (and what else were they going to do with it?) -- the producers close Live Cream with a studio cut, "Lawdy Mama," an Eric Clapton-inspired take on a traditional tune that subsequently evolved into the hit "Strange Brew" during what became the Disraeli Gears sessions. It's not a match for everything we've heard, but in the spring of 1970 no one was exactly complaining over being handed a previously unissued studio track by the Cream, as a bonus to the concert performances here. As it turned out, there were more live tracks from some of these same shows to draw on in future releases and reissues, which would include a couple of the group's hits; but Live Cream offers the overall highest quality, both in terms of clarity and fidelity, and the performances, which, in addition to the essential great playing (better in some ways than what was heard on some of the much-vaunted live tracks from Wheels of Fire), include excellent vocalizing by Clapton and Jack Bruce. Not that vocalizing looms that large here -- the live tracks are all given extended jazz-based treatment, and the dialog among the three musicians as the jams develop is fascinating. Foreground and background seem to dissolve as all three musicians take charge, using the full range of their instruments. And where Bruce goes with his bass, especially on "Sweet Wine," is every bit as rewarding as the places that Clapton's guitar takes us; and Ginger Baker's playing is a trip all its own. Performances like this single-handedly raised the stakes of musicianship in rock. ~ Rob Bowman & Bruce Eder, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
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, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
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 Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
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 Disraeli Gears gets 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 this album away from recycled blues-rock and toward its eccentric British core, for with the fuzzy freak-out "Swlabr," the music hall flourishes of "Dance the Night Away," the swinging "Take It Back," and of course, the schoolboy singalong "Monther's Lament," this is a very British record. Even so, this crossed the ocean and became a major hit in America as well, because for no matter how whimsical certain segments are, Cream is 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 Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
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." 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 Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
