Cream Best Songs

In many ways, English trio Cream was a direct reflection of the era during which it so briefly took flight. The latter half of the 1960s ushered into popular music a multitude of new sounds, new faces and new themes that would capably guide the recording industry through the remainder of the twentieth century. Cream represented both the commercial and creative promise of heavier, improvisational rock and roll in the decades to come.

The mid-Sixties London rock scene had brought together two-thirds of guitarist Eric Clapton, bassist Jack Bruce and drummer Ginger Baker in various pairings, and by 1966, Clapton and Baker had arrived at a resolution to form a band together. Clapton's first suggestion for a bassist was Bruce -- Baker's then-current Graham Bond Organization bandmate. Despite their dicey personal relationship, Baker accepted Bruce for the new trio, and (on the strength of their collective star power in the UK at the time) Cream quickly landed a record deal.

The group's debut album appeared on both sides of the Atlantic around New Year's, 1967. DubbedFresh Cream, its track listing vacillated between amped-up versions of traditional American blues numbers (of the ilk for which Clapton had been known from his days in both The Yardbirds and John Mayall's Bluesbreakers) and heavy jazz foundations upon which all three players could liberally explore.

For American radio,Fresh Creamwas the first real introduction to Eric Clapton -- who was already a giant star in England. Not surprisingly, US stations mainly favored the LPs bluesy side. "Spoonful," "Rollin' And Tumblin'" and the brisk-paced "I'm So Glad" received considerable attention. Baker's drum solo, "Toad," would portend a waiting spotlight for the legion of showy rock drummers looming on the horizon. The lone American single, "I Feel Free," was reminiscent of soundtrack fare from the spaghetti Westerns and experimental coffee-house films of the day; it sold relatively poorly. Ultimately, however,Fresh Cream-- with its spacious reverbed production sensibility -- was merely a primer for much bigger statements to come.

The trio spent most of 1967 both touring and building its second album. Their writing process was directly impacted by the Flower Power, Summer Of Love atmosphere pervading both London and America that year, and Disraeli Gearsis but one of many countercultural epistles to that fabled moment in history. From the album cover to the swirling stereo sound effects, Gearswas drenched in acid through and through, relegating the blues tunes to the figurative back-seat. Clapton took his wah-wah pedal to a mythical seashore for "Tales Of Brave Ulysses," and then to bed with a bizarre mistress in "SWLABR;" both songs dripped with psychedelic sweat.

The bluesiest bits ("Outside Woman Blues" and the single "Strange Brew") were also the safest -- with "...Brew" conforming to the blues in progression only and Bruce's mid-section basslines presaging golden-age Geezer Butler.Disraeli Gears' immortal contribution, of course, would be the moody Rapunzel adaptation "Sunshine Of Your Love." An icon of the 1960s, its signature riff heralded Eric Clapton's arrival alongside Jimi Hendrix at the forefront of the six-string universe. Perhaps the song's greatest impact was its simultanously signature solos and power-riffs. If the formula for a great hard song had merely existed before, "Sunshine Of Your Love" essentially perfected it.

In the wake of their second LP's monstrous reception, Cream enjoyed its zenith in 1968. Constantly touring and recording led to the issuance of that summer's double-disc set,Wheels Of Fire. The second record of the set captured various live performances in San Francisco that March, the most famous of which would become Clapton's blazing interpretation of Robert Johnson's "Crossroads." A dynamic roller coaster ride from start to finish, "Crossroads" became one of the most famous live recordings of all time on rock radio; in its day it had a similar effect on the rock and roll audience that Edward Van Halen's "Eruption" would weild ten years hence.

On the studio disc, Top Ten single "White Room" proved a worthy brother for "Sunshine Of Your Love." Similar in attitude to "I Feel Free," "White Room" expanded positively upon where its predecessor had left off, incorporating a more effective use of stop-start dynamism. The album's blues vehicles gleefully bastardized the genre: "Politician" combined a downer tempo ("resting" on a very well-worn key and one-four-five progression) with a middle-finger message; "Born Under A Bad Sign" lamented bad luck with a smile.

Even before the release of Wheels Of Fire, Baker and Bruce's intermittent feuding had ratcheted into high gear, and all three members had decided to lay down the project at the conclusion of their late 1968 tour, tellingly billed as a farewell tour. As an encore, the trio squeezed out a fourth and final album release, 1969's Goodbye. Somewhat appropriately, the only memorable track from the phoned-in effort was the Clapton-George Harrison co-penned "Badge." This final single highlighted Bruce's piano chops, juxtaposed against a descending Clapton lick (driven by a Leslie speaker, a la Jon Lord of Deep Purple) that would appear in near-pristine form less than a couple of years later on a popular Badfinger record.

For a band that had barely lasted two years, Cream had pushed out four albums (one of which became the first million-selling double-album in music history) and crafted a visionary catalog of material that would impact generations of rock acts to come. Although Baker and Bruce never came close to equalling their accomplishments in Cream following the band's demise, Clapton moved on to Blind Faith, Derek And The Dominoes and a stellar solo career.

Yet it was Cream that had served to introduce Clapton to an American rock audience increasingly hungry for loud and powerful guitars. The trio reunited twice -- in 1993 for their Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame induction, and in 2005 for two multi-night stands at New York's Madison Square Garden and London's Royal Albert Hall -- and in so doing gave successive generations the rare opportunity to personally witness a rereading of one of the genre's earliest chapters. Shortly after the final run of shows had concluded, the members had pronounced the band to be permanently done.