The Leamington Spa Assembly looks amazing. With swirling lighting and a brightly lit central screen bearing the Music of Cream logo, it’s clear that this is something of a special event designed to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of a band that changed the face of rock music. A seated performance unfortunately, it exposes the inherent dichotomy of presenting a rock show in this format. On the one hand, there are those who wish to sit and enjoy the musicianship (which is exquisite from all three musicians, especially Will Johns, Eric Clapton’s nephew and proof that the fruit falls close to the tree); on the other hand it is a rock show and the visceral music of Cream was always better suited to movement than to a static environment. Nonetheless, as the lights dim, there is a strong aura of expectation as the three musicians calmly take to the stage.
Kicking off the evening with N.S.U, it’s clear from the rapturous response that The Music of Cream are not your average tribute band. With all three members related to the original musicians, they grew up steeped in Cream and it enables them to tell the stories behind the songs (of Pressed rat and Warthog, the impish Kofi simply says “it was written on acid!”) although, sadly, such anecdotes are few and far between, which feels a touch like an opportunity missed. Of all the tracks aired, badge is probably the most perfunctory, but it’s made up for by a wonderful sleepy time time, which sees Malcom Bruce singing words that were written for the band by his mother, Janet. It lends greater emotional weight to the song, as he’s clearly invested in what he’s singing, and the pictures that flash up on the screen behind the band, many taken from personal archives, bring the whole thing to life. Another highlight is strange brew, one of Cream’s best songs, perfectly rendered here, whilst the aforementioned pressed rat and warthog gives way to a delightful SWLABR, so memorably covered by Joe Bonamassa on his British Blues Explosion tour. The latter is the perfect example of a song that could do with a touch of exposition, but the band play it flawlessly and Will Johns’ guitar shines, as indeed it does throughout the set. It brings the first half of the show to a satisfying end, and the band leave the stage, having plugged their six of the best EP, for a short interval.
Returning to the stage in a curiously subdued fashion, it takes a moment for the audience to realise the band are there and so take their seats. Unfortunately, as the music blazes from the stage, so a battle of wills begins between venue staff and a handful of audience members who want to dance. The security, who seem perfectly friendly, do their best to handle things, but at least two people are ejected, marring proceedings a touch. The band rise above all this, however, with a rousing I’m so glad giving way to an impressive crossroads, the latter prefaced with Will’s engaging story of thrashing drums along to ZZ Top in “Uncle Eric’s” basement. Somewhere along the way, Eric took him aside and instructed him to learn “a real instrument” (cue much barracking from Kofi) and the rest, as they say, is history. However he came to the guitar, there is no question that Will has impressive skills and his take on Eric’s hot-wired showpiece is superlative. No less bruising is white room, and it says much that sweet wine (a co-write between Ginger Baker and Janet Bruce) offers something of a respite. With the end of the set rapidly approaching, it’s time for Kofi Baker to unleash a monumental drum solo in toad. Even the band acknowledge that this is something of a Marmite affair (“you can go to the bar” quips Malcom) but, if it is a lengthy solo, it is also an opportunity for Kofi to showcase his undoubted skills, and the ovation he receives at the conclusion is genuine and sustained. It leaves only the inevitable climax of sunshine of your love, gloriously extended, to provide a strong finale.
The Music of Cream is something of an oddity. Although nominally a tribute, thanks to the family ties the members hold to the original Cream, the band are able to invest a great deal more emotion and power in their performance. That they are phenomenal musicians goes without saying, but it’s that sense of involvement that makes the Music of Cream work so well. I’m not sure a full-seated performance is the way to go with a band such as this – the power and energy that sparks from the band’s heaviest numbers is more or less an instruction to dance – and it’s clear that a sizable portion of the audience feels the same way. That gripe aside, with strong stage presence, interesting stories and a varied set, Music of Cream does much to capture the spirit of the band we are here to celebrate. For those who were there the first time round, the Music of Cream is a chance to relive a pivotal period in music history. For those who missed out, it’s a chance to see a selection of much-loved songs played with panache and, with the evergreen sunshine of your love ringing in our ears, the audience streams out in to the cold night air well-satisfied.
