 Cream Whenever the usual songs get trotted out for 60s-era documentaries and movies, you can invariably expect a Cream song to rear its bloated head: "Sunshine of Your Love," "White Room," "Spoonful," "I Feel Free," "Strange Brew," "Tales of Brave Ulysses," "Crossroads" … hence, a disc like The Very Best of Cream is fighting an uphill battle against 30 years of overexposure. For the inarguable greatness of the band (Ginger Baker on drums, Jack Bruce on bass, and Eric Clapton on guitar) and their "importance" to 60s pop culture (not to mention their "important" role in bringing the "important" Robert Johnson to a new and "important" generation), there is just something irrelevant about listening to Cream nowadays. I mean, is "Sunshine of Your Love" really something you want to put on when you're at home? I don't even listen to it when I come across it on the car radio. Actually, I'm pretty much guaranteed to change the channel if it comes on during a TV show or movie I happen to be watching. Visions of twirling Summer of Love-era hippies and stock footage of student protests can never be far behind if you spend too long around Cream. Now, don't mistake me – the music is good. There's a reason why these songs have been so beaten into the ground – they're tight, full of hooks, and simple. Cream's music forms the basis for so much classic rock it's not even funny. No, really, I mean it's NOT FUNNY how much bad music has springboarded off this group. Fortunately this compilation sticks to the real best, avoiding the more indulgent live tracks and studio cuts – with the exception of "Spoonful" (which clocks in at 6:30), nothing here is over 4:15, and most songs are under 3 minutes. It's easily the best one-disc Cream set you can buy – the real question is whether you really want to buy it, and that, my friend, is up to you. I'm sure there are thousands of people who would not want to live if they were to be stripped of their right to listen to Cream. Myself, I would not want to live if I had to hang out with those people. The disc tracks the progression of the band from the simple 60s Britpop of "Wrapping Paper" and "I Feel Free" through the blues fixation of "Spoonful" and the psychedelia of "Strange Brew," onward toward the more complex and mature songwriting of "Deserted Cities of the Heart" and "Badge." The band's style matured, but didn't change all that much – there's a whole lot of druggy blues ("Sitting on Top of the World," "Born Under a Bad Sign") and some forgettable tracks that I wish I could say are "neglected gems" ("N.S.U.," "Sweet Wine," "Politician"). Honestly, though the CD is a pretty solid listen, the only tracks I would really say are great are "Badge" (which owes much to George Harrison's songwriting co-credit) and "Anyone For Tennis," which benefits from unpretentiousness and whimsy amid all the blisterin' overplaying. I'm not going to fault this disc too much for being too good for its own good … I just don't see the need to hear it, though people so inclined will undoubtedly find it essential listening. It would take one persuasive hippie with lots of mind-altering chemicals and a staggering fellatial ability to make me add this one to my personal "essential" list – of course, I'm open to anyone willing to accept the challenge.
Review by James Tiny-Dynamine |