Jack Bruce: The 50th Anniversary Concerts, DVD Edition

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2015
Images from the Internet

Jack Bruce: The 50th Anniversary Concerts – DVD Edition (2 DVDs)

MIG / Intact
235 minutes, 1993 / 2014
www.mig-music.de    
www.mvdvisual.com

Jack Bruce is associated with many of the important blues rockers of the 1960 and onward, including John Mayall & the Bluesbreakers, Manfred Mann, Blues Incorporated and West, Bruce & Laing. However, it will always be Cream for which his name will be linked first.

Quick side story: when I was in sleepaway camp during the 1960s, during one year the only record anyone thought to bring up for the three weeks was Cream’s “Sunshine of Your Love.” When we had dances, we would play it over and over. If we wanted to dance fast and frantic, we played it at 78. When we wanted to slow dance, we played it at 78. I don’t remember them putting the needle to the B-side, though they probably did. To this day, I am conformable hearing it at all those speeds.

On November 2 and 3 of 1993, concerts were held at E-Werk in Cologne, Germany, to celebrate Jack Bruce’s 50th birthday, almost 21 years before his passing on October 25, 2014 at age 71.

As presented here in usual excellent Rockpalast standards, the beginning is at a slow build. It initiates with Bruce playing Improvisation on Minuet No. 1 solo on the cello. A multi-musical talent, I understand now why people don’t usually know him for this instrument. I’m just sayin’ and truthifyin’, not hatin’.

After he jumps on the piano (much better) and starts a selection of tunes that sound pretty jazzy in an early style that Fats Waller would have loved, he is joined by keyboardist Gary Husband. With Bruce playing a full piano and Husband on electronics, they blend a sound that is both titters and full chested. Getting better all the time.

When those numbers are completed and Husband is dismissed, Bruce picks up the bass and brings out British blues saxophone legend Dick Heckstall-Smith (d. 2004), along with his Cream compadre, the one and only curmudgeon drummer Ginger Baker. This, of course, changes the dynamics of the room. Interestingly, the trio does not break out into busting some Blues, but into some beautify jazz riffs, usually led by Heckstall-Smith’s sax (though sometimes he does this trick where he plays the sax and clarinet at the same time). Naturally, everyone gets their solo shots. There is a lot of off-kilter-style jazz improvs that would have made Miles proud, full of a-tonal and arrhythmic phrasing.

At 42 minutes, the band expands and we finally get to hear some rock solid blues, with “First Time I Met the Blues.” Of course, it is heartfelt and respectful. Then, as the band gets even larger – including the amazing keyboardist Bernie Worrell, who I had the pleasure to meet in the 1980s when he accompanied Human Switchboard at Irving Plaza – they start to rock a bit more.

About an hour into the first disc, the selection starts turning proggish, and my interest started to wan… Part of me wanted to put on the Ramones, which is always an antidote to this. It was going fine until then, but I suddently starting thinking about what was for supper, and that’s a bad sign. But I was determined to stick it out.

It was worth it, of course, because being the Blues man, you know that would come back, and it did strongly with “Neighbor, Neighbor” and “Born Under a Bad Sign.” This, as with most of the songs, comes with many solos by various musicians, everyone getting their limelight time.

One of the variances into classic rock style with a Celtic lilt is “Ships in the Night,” when he is joined by singer Maggie Reilly (who, elsewhere, was the female vocal on Mike Oldfield’s amazing “Five Miles Out,” but I digress…). With this and the following numbers, she goes into back-up singer, Darlene Love / Uta Hedgwig mode for a few numbers, before vanishing into the night.

“Willpower,” a blasting and grinding number, also shows one of the reasons for the rise of punk rock, just seeming to go on and on (and on). It’s over 5 minutes, and it seems half of it is just the chorus, consisting to the song title, over and over (and over). The follow-up, with Bruce switching back to piano, is “Never Tell Your Mother She’s Out of Tune,” which goes on for over 9 minutes. Fortunately, it’s a totally up-beat blues-based

raver, and like so many choices on these, there is sections of instrumentals. Rightfully so, he backs off to a slower number, “Theme From an Imaginary Western,”for which he never lets up with the power. Being his 50th birthday, it makes sense to end the first DVD with “Golden Days.”

Before discussing the second disk, I need to stop here for a moment and reflect with an explanation. Jack Bruce is extremely talented, as was all members of Cream, and everyone who participated on this is stellar. I am certainly not trying to put it down in any way. That being said, there was a reason I stopped listening to the radio soon after Sgt. Pepper’s, and especially into the ‘70s, because music became too…sterile. Even the bluesy numbers of, say, Led Zeppelin, sounded bombastic to the point of driving me to the “1-2-3-4” of the Ramones. Jack Bruce and company are the same. Over the years I’ve come to appreciate the talent behind these British Blues rockers, but there is still something about long songs, seemingly endless solos and earnest musical masturbation that can make me…distracted to something else.

Now that I’ve cleared the air a bit, I’m ready for disc two, which seems more focused on the Cream era. We shall see.

As with the first, this disc opens on a nice, slower note, with Bruce sitting with an acoustic guitar, singing “As You Said,” accompanied by two cellos. It’s pretty effective, and has a mix between Celtic and modern. The band comes in for the next, similar sounding “Rope Ladder to the Moon.” See, part of the problem with me, particularly, reviewing this, is with the exception of some of the Cream stuff, Bruce’s material never really entered into the realm of my tastes, so I am not familiar with much of it (e.g., “Oh, this is from that group and that album…”).

For example, after he switches back to the bass, they do “Life on Earth.” This song, from 1981, sounds like another of that string of Peter Gabriel “Sledgehammer” / Steve Winwood “Higher Love” ‘80s solo comebacks. I was listening to hardcore and the Garage Revival back then, so this is kinda out of my ken. The next few songs seem from the same period.

I was amused at the juxtaposition of Toto’s Simon Phillips’ extended drum solo. His kit is huge and he rambles on with it. Afterwards, you see Ginger Baker, ciggy-butt dangling from his half-toothless mouth (he has COPD now…keep smokin’ kids!), get into his miniscule-by-comparison kit, and almost nonchalantly show how it’s done. One of my fave moments.

The Cream starts rising, with “Sitting on Top of the World,” a folk song they Blues’d up to fame. And here is where the really long, extended songs begin (this one is over 7 minutes, as are many of the others to come). Baker on drums, Bruce on bass; all that’s missing is, well… Clapton would tour with the two in the next decade, but he was not present for this. Ably taking his place for this section is Humble Pie’s Clem Clempson. Pete Brown, the lyricist who co-wrote some of Cream’s biggest hits (and cousin of Marty Feldman), jumps in and joins the vocals for “Politician.”

It’s the Cream era that I’ve been patiently (sorta) waiting for, and here it is. “White Room” (8+ minutes) bleeds out, and a near full orchestral “Sunshine of Your Love” (7+ minutes) are actually done great. With the extra instrumentation (including two bassists, two drummers, a horn section, an acoustic guitar, piano, Bernie Worrell’s keyboard) and Clempson’s guitar, they show that the songs retain their power even after all these years…make that decades.

This section ends with the sizzling 8+ minute (get my point?) blues grinder, “Blues You Can’t Lose.”

Though everyone seems to be wearing the same clothes, I’m wondering if this next part is from a different night, because he covers a bunch of the material that’s already be done. However, for this part he’s joined by Baker on drums and Thin Lizzy’s Gary Moore (d. 2011) on guitar. Moore is a dynamic player, different in style than Clempson, so he manages to shake up the redone material, making it fresh.

Even “Life on Earth” takes on a more rock mode than ‘80s pop. Thanks, Gary, for that! Also, not only does he breathe an entirely different flavor into the mix, he also pushes Bruce into a different direction, as they both play their asses off, feeding each other’s energy. So much better than the first time around, even the solos.

While this trio doesn’t re-do “Sunshine,” they cover Willie Dixon’s Blues classic “Spoonful,” in a glorious fashion, and finish off, however, with “White Room.”

Again, in usual Rockpalast fashion, the sound is great (though I notice Worrell gets drowned out sometimes), the visuals sharp, and the editing enjoyable (not MTV-ishly quick cuts). I also like the way the camera focuses in on the musicians rather than the audience, who are only in a few shots. Better that way, because it’s the talent I want to see, not a roll call.

There are three different versions of this release. One is, obviously, this one, called the DVD Edition, containing 2 DVDs. There is also the Extended Edition, with both DVDs and a CD Digi-Format (just over 5 hours of material), and the Special Edition boxset of 3 DVDs plus Bonus DVD and CD (almost 8 hours). Up to you to get yer Jack Bruce fix, and how much of it you can handle.

Jack Bruce, you were a talented man, and I thank you for your years of playing; RIP. Meanwhile, I’m turning on “Rock-Rock-Rockaway Beach…”

DVD1:

Improvisation on Minuet No. 1

FM

Can You Follow?

Running Thro’ Our Hands

Childsong

The Tube

Over the Cliff

Statues

First Time I Met the Blues

Smiles & Grins

Bird Alone

Neighbor, Neighbor

Born Under a Bad Sign

Boston Ball Game 1967

Ships in the Night

Willpower

Never Tell Your Mother She’s Out of Tune

Theme From an Imaginary Western

Golden Days

 

DVD 2:

As You Said
Rope Ladder to the Moon
Life on Earth
Drum Solo by Simon Phillips
NSU
Sitting on the Top of the World
Politician
White Room
Sunshine of Your Love
Blues You Can’t Loose
Featuring Gary Moore:
Life on Earth
NSU
Sitting on the Top of the World
Politician
Spoonful
White Room

 

BONUS:

 

Book Review: Clapton: The Ultimate Illustrated History

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2011
Images from the Internet

Clapton: The Ultimate Illustrated History
By Chris Welch
Voyageur Press (Minneapolis), 2011
256 pages; USD $40.00 / CAN $44.00
ISBN: 978-0-7603-4046-2
Voyageurpress.com

My awareness of Clapton first came indirectly, with Cream’s “Sunshine of Your Love.” In 1968, I was in sleepaway camp H.E.S. for three weeks that summer. Being co-ed, there was a weekly dance for us all to mingle. As I was 13 that year, it was a good thing. However, the only record anyone thought to bring along was the “Sunshine” 45. Though I don’t remember what the flip, “SWLABR,” sounds like, I do remember we all voted that we preferred the A-side. “Sunshine,” by itself, was played over and over at the gatherings, for hours. When we wanted to slow dance, we played it at 33-1/3. When we wanted to “freak out,” we played it at 78. I’m still comfortable hearing it in all speeds.

While “Sunshine” was in my consciousness, I wasn’t aware of who Cream was, as far as members go. At the time, I was more of a fan of girl groups, nascent garage, Simon and Garfunkel, and Allan Sherman. I don’t even remember hearing “Strange Brew” or “White Room” until well into the ‘70s.

What I do remember from my middle school days in the very late ‘60s and onward, though, was the graffiti. In the stalls of the Rock’n’Roll High School-style smoke-clogged Bensonhurst bathrooms, those few times I dared venture into there, were the common pen-scratched “Frodo Lives,” “I Grok Spock,” and “Clapton is God.”

Chris Welch has been writing about rock music since Clapton originally showed up on the scene, which is when they first met and struck up an acquaintance. It seems fitting for a man who has followed Clapton’s career - from humble beginnings to the present – to write a book about his music-making life. Clapton comes across as a restless artist, rarely being satisfied and eventually running away in one manner or another, caught between his self-doubt and explosive ego. You know… a musician.

The luscious oversized hardcover, filled with over 400 illustrations, is subtly broken into sidebars beyond the chapters, with descriptions, histories and photos of his guitars, dissection of certain key albums, and replication of artifacts such as posters, band images, and even concert stubs.

There’s no skimping on ink here, as most of the reproductions are excellent, in vibrant color or black-and-white. Then again, they are not overly doctored, either, so if the record has a ring on the cover, or a discoloration from time, that’s present as well.

The research that went into these images is staggering, from extremely rare releases, such as 45 cover sleeves, small concert ads and tour programs, promotions, and even personalized guitar picks.

But this is hardly a mere coffee-table photo book. It is also a full textual history of the artist, and includes quotes from many of the major musicians that connected with Clapton in the course of his life, and especially career. Even without all the reproduced figures, this is a full biographical book on Clapton’s craft. Welsh also does not hold back any punches, stating how some of Clapton’s recordings during the ‘80s are lackluster and not up to his potential.

White much of the detail is keen, and for that I can assuredly recommend this release, there are still a couple of holes and quibbles. For example, there is very little personal information that is included, with short shrift on Clapton’s drug and subsequent alcohol abuse, and very little mention about the turmoil brought about through the relationship of Pattie Boyd (whose own autobiography I found abysmal, but I digress…), with just a couple of references and one photo of them together. There is no citation in the text of Clapton’s involvement in the Who’s film version of Tommy (though there is a photo of him as the Preacher, and the disappointing film’s poster are shown), nor anything about his reaction to his best friend/rival George Harrison’s passing. Perhaps this is a conscious choice, wanting to rely more on the output of the artist rather than be bogged down in personal minutia?

The quibbling, nit-picking part is the use of the word “Ultimate” in the title, because the last time I checked Clapton was still alive, so there will be more to come, I hope….

This is just part of a series of “Illustrated History” releases for Voyageur, such as AC/DC and Aerosmith, and it’s a worthwhile project for certain. Each one is certainly a gem of images and information, and this one is absolutely essential to the Eric Clapton is God contingent, if not all the fans of his music and those interested in some solid rock history.

Bonus Videos:

DVD Review: “Eric Clapton: The 1960s Review”

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2010
Images from the Internet

Eric Clapton: The 1960s Review
Directed by Alex Westbrook
Sexy Intellectual, 2010
120 minutes, USD $19.95
Chromedreams.co.uk.com
MVDvisual.com

When I was in school during the early ‘70s, there was some standard bathroom graffiti, such as “Frodo Lives”, “I Grok Spock,” and “Clapton IS God.” At the time I wasn’t into Middle Earth, being a Stranger in a Strange Land, or music that much (that would start in 1975), so they were all lost on me back then.

Over the years, I have come to understand all of them (and even appreciate some). Which leads me to another anecdote: during the ‘60s, while I was in a 3-week long sleepaway camp as a tyke in the ‘60s, the only record anyone thought to bring was the 45 of Cream’s “Sunshine of Your Love.” When we had a social, it was all we played that summer (I don’t remember them ever playing the other side the entire time). When we wanted to slow dance, it was played at 33-1/3. When we wanted to let loose, it was at 78 rpms. For sing-around-the-campfires we vocalized to social justice songs by the likes Phil Ochs (“Draft Dodger Rag”) and Buffy Ste. Marie (“Universal Soldier”), but when we wanted to dance, it was always “Sunshine.”

Eric Clapton was the guitarist in some of the most outstanding bands of the late ‘60s British music scene, which went from being blues based to full-on rock, from the Yardbirds in 1966, to Bluesbreakers, then Cream, and ending the decade with Blind Faith. All of them relied heavily on Clapton’s wicked fretwork. He could do a solo for more than 20 minutes (especially when stoned out of his gourd, as he was frequently toward the later part of the decade).

This two-hour British documentary starts off with his childhood where he discovered American Blues 78s (first acoustic Delta, then electrified Chicago), and quickly learned to play them as a young teen. He joined a loose band of fellow Blues fans known as the “Roosters,” before meeting Giorgio Gomelsky (whom I have met more than once in the 1980s, while working at a recording studio in Manhattan; he was licensing out Yardbirds cuts) and then joining the Yardbirds. Whichever one of the Yardbirds’ three top-notch guitarists you think is best – Clapton, Jeff Beck, or Jimmy Page – Eric started it off. Of course, he quit after recording their biggest hit, “Heart Full of Soul,” as he felt it was not pure enough blues. As time went on into other bands, he would become more commercial sounding, leaning towards pop more than Blues. Thankfully, this documentary addresses that peculiarity (you’ll have to see it to find out which side it comes out on).

The whole “God” thing started, though, when Clapton joined John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers. It’s kind of ironic that he was associated with being a god when he was so influenced during this period by Robert Johnson, who supposedly sold his soul to the devil (Clapton would later do the song “Crossroads” about Johnson, while in Cream). He left that band due to lack of moneymaking potential. He definitely was ambitious.

My interest in Clapton’s career, for reasons stated above, is in the Cream period, where he had a contentious relationship with his two other band mates, bassist Jack Bruce and drummer Ginger Baker. While I found this era to be my favorite of his career in general, to me his best song is still “Layla,” but that was in the ‘70s while being in Derek and the Dominos, so it is not covered here (therefore, I digress…). This band would be short lived, though, because they quickly found they just did not get along, even with pharmaceuticals (according to Pattie Boyd’s whiney autobio, Wonderful Tonight, he was often in an alternative state).

One of the more fascinating points in the documentary discusses in some length the relationship between Clapton and Jimi Hendrix, who came to England and jammed on stage with Cream, basically blowing Clapton away. I’ve heard two different versions of Clapton’s feelings about Hendrix, one being jealous and the other being admiring. This documentary leans towards… well, again, you’ll have to see it.

A point of interest in seeing this documentary at this moment comes with the timing of having just read Cheetah Chrome’s new autobio, A Dead Boy’s Tale. Both the Dead Boys’ second LP and much of Clapton’s Cream material were both recorded by the same producer, Felix Pappalardi, with opposite results. The material of Cream was certainly more suited for Pappalardi’s style, as he worked on the likes of “Sunshine” and “Strange Brew.”

By the time Clapton got to Blind Faith, with Steve Winwood, I still found the storyline interesting in the documentary, though musically I found the band to be an utter bore (the Ramones explained to me why). Clapton went from Blues to pop to sheer masturbatory guitar noodling (Jimmy Page would suffer the same fate with Zepp).

Narrator Thomas Arnold takes the viewer along on the ride, and fortunately does so by keeping our interest. As with other Chrome Dream documentaries, there is a lot of pieces of music, so we get to hear Clapton’s changes over time, and there are even a few brief interviews with him, from 1968, 1991, 2005 and 2006.

There are many talking heads explaining just who Clapton was, what he accomplished, and what he was like in person, such as Yardbirds members Top Tophan and Chris Dreja (whom Clapton replaced, and constantly looks like he’s pained by the experience), John Mayall, Manfred Mann’s Tom McGuiness and Paul Jones, and the irascible Neil Innes, who was in the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band (not to mention the lead Rutle). Other associates include the Cream road manager Ben Palmer and Bill Haverson, the engineer for many of Clapton’s work at the time. Of course, rock journalist Alan Clayson, who not only wrote the bio for Cream and its members, but it seems is on just about every documentary put out by Chrome Dreams. They all paint a picture of the man of that time.

I find some of the people not interviewed kind of interesting, such as the aforementioned Pattie Boyd and Giorgio Gomelsky, Robert Stigwood (who managed Blind Faith), or even Steve Winwood (who I would rather hear talk than play). Also not addressed is his substance abuse (did you see how stoned he was in the film Tommy, singing/stumbling through “Eyesight to the Blind”? Yes, I know, it was the ‘70s again, but it started in the ‘60s).

The two hour length was just the right amount of time, and amazingly I found myself engaged straight through. The balance of clips and interviews kept the pace going nicely, and I definitely learned something about Eric Clapton, and his musical process of the period.

There are three interesting short documentaries as extras. The first one is about the lead up to the Yardbirds backing up one of their idols, Sonny Boy Williams, at the Crawdaddy Club in England. Another is Paul Jones discussing Eric Clapton’s Powerhouse, a studio group formed in 1966 that really deserved more attention as my knowledge of them is pretty limited. The last is engineer Bill Haverson’s amusing tale of a missing guitar foot peddle while recording Cream’s “Badge.”

While not authorized by Eric Clapton, this documentary is fair and seems somewhat comprehensive (other than bits I’ve mentioned above). Certainly he comes across favorably, and as he is a major musical figure of the time, apparently deservedly so.