Stimulating cinema: Mid-August Lunch

Original title: "Pranzo di Ferragosto"
Year released: 2008
Director: Gianni Di Gregorio

A funny, warm, touching film that anyone who ever cared for someone older than themselves can relate to. But of course Phillip French in the London Observer can tell you a lot better than I.

I recently had the pleasure and privilege of presenting a prize for the best first film shown in the 2008 London film festival to Gianni Di Gregorio. It was a pleasure because I greatly admire his gentle, perceptive comedy "Mid-August Lunch," and a privilege because the prize is presented by the Satyajit Ray Foundation in memory of the director I revere beyond all others. The Satyajit Ray Award has been given every year since 1996 to a film "which best captures the artistry expressed in Ray's own vision" and Di Gregorio could not have been a more appropriate recipient.

Almost 60 years ago, early in 1950, the newly married Ray, then working for an advertising agency in Calcutta, made his first visit to Europe to spend some months at the parent company's headquarters in London. "Within three days of arriving in London, I saw De Sica's "Bicycle Thieves," he later wrote. "I knew immediately that if I ever made Pather Panchali--and the idea had been at the back of my mind for some time--I would make it in the same way, using natural locations and unknown actors."

On his return home, he wrote an article on "Some Italian Films I Have Seen" for the Indian Film Society Bulletin, which concluded: "For a popular medium, the best kind of inspiration should derive from life and its roots in it. No amount of technical polish can make up for artificiality of theme and dishonesty of treatment. The Indian film-maker must turn to life, to reality. De Sica and not DeMille should be his ideal."

The 60-year-old Di Gregorio is best known to us as the screenwriter on Gomorrah, Matteo Garrone's expansive, multilayered film about the terrible hold that organised crime has on Naples. His directorial debut, which Garrone has produced, is on a quite different scale. Partly autobiographical, shot entirely on location (mostly in Di Gregorio's old family apartment) with a non-professional cast for a budget of under £430,000, "Mid-August Lunch" seems to meet all of Ray's requirements.

Ray, I think, would have admired the film for its humanity, its concern for family and the elderly and for the way Di Gregorio suffers fools gladly. In addition to writing and directing, Di Gregorio plays the central character, also called Gianni, a bachelor in his late 50s, unemployed because he's the full-time carer for his 90-year-old widowed mother.
They live in a well-furnished, somewhat shabby fourth-floor flat in the charming old Roman district of Trastevere. Inside, it's dark, outside blindingly bright, and the time is the height of summer on the eve of Ferragosto. That's the annual celebration on 15 August of the ascension of the Virgin Mary into Heaven and it empties the city. Older moviegoers will recall Luciano Emmer's Sunday in August, an art house staple of the early 50s in which Marcello Mastroianni made one of his earliest screen appearances as a young cop in a white uniform patrolling the empty streets of a shimmering Rome.

Gianni is cash-strapped, slightly depressed, but cheerful in the company of his cantankerous mother (to whom he's reading "The Three Musketeers"), his raffish chum, Viking, and the storekeeper who gives him wine on tick. In a very amusing confrontation with Alfredo, the accountant who administers the apartment block, Gianni is persuaded to take in Alfredo's mother for Ferragosto in exchange for the postponement of rent arrears and utility bills, being relieved of his contribution to essential repairs and, the cherry on the cake, given a key to the shared lift.

When Alfredo delivers his mother, Marina, he also drops off his even older aunt, Maria, whose kids have gone elsewhere for the holidays. Looking down at Alfredo's convertible parked in the street below, Gianni sees that the accountant's companion for a supposed trip to a health resort is a lissom young blonde, the one little gesture towards Berlusconi's Italy.

As Gianni goes about his three principal activities--smoking, drinking and cooking, often simultaneously--his doctor turns up and, after examining both son and mother, makes an offer that due to the accompanying financial inducement can't be refused. So Gianni agrees to extend his hospitality to the doctor's elderly mother, Grazia, who arrives with a list of dietary requirements and pills that would challenge a trained nurse. At this point, as Gianni deals with the elderly widows, all demanding in different ways, in a cramped flat, the film resembles the cabin sequence in A Night at the Opera, but is played as polite comedy instead of farce.

Initially tensions build up. Gianni's mother wants to be alone. Maria attempts to take over in the kitchen. Grazia takes forbidden macaroni casserole from the fridge at night. Marina, after locking herself in her room, slips out of the house to a nearby trattoria. But Gianni, considerate as ever, smooths things over, settles disputes over the TV, resists a drunken Marina's attempts at seduction. Then the women start to bond, reading palms, discussing their lives and loves. The atmosphere becomes joyful and Gianni takes a back seat.

It's a wonderfully patient, delicately observed film; warm, generous, never for a moment sentimental or patronising, never exploiting dottiness and eccentricity. The performances of the old ladies are pitch-perfect and by the end, Di Gregorio's casting of himself as Gianni seems both essential and inevitable. The final credits are accompanied by what looks like home movie footage of an improvised dance and, thinking about it afterwards, one can't be sure whether this is the host dancing with his mother and their guests or the director celebrating with his cast at a wrap party.

Random pictures from an exotic place I'll probably never get to visit: Hanging out at Devil's Pool, Victoria Falls

Says it all really. Apparently at the top of the world's highest waterfall, Victoria Falls which is located between Zambia and Zimbabwe, there's a way you can just chill out mere inches away from the precipitous dropoff. It's called Devils Pool and it looks like a hell of a lot of fun.

Stimulating sounds: "Blowin' Your Mind" by Van Morrison

Year released: 1967
Personnel: Van Morrison (guitar, vocals); Eric Gale (guitar). Can't find the rest of the personnel listings for the life of me.

So, I thought I'd take a dip into the world of Van Morrison, who--interestingly--was born on the exact same day as my mom (Aug. 31, 1945). One of the good things about being a music snob like I am is that when you finally get around to hearing more "mainstream" stuff, it's like opening up a whole new world. Morrison's class is well known, but not to me, and I think I'm going to enjoy immersing myself in his classic works.

And what better place to begin than at the beginning, his debut from that wild and crazy year of 1967, "Blowin' Your Mind." While the psychedelic cover has its detractors--critic Greil Marcus famously described it as "monstrously offensive"--the music contained within is quite good. Morrison effortlessly mixes the blues, folk and yes, psychedelic touches into a heady combo that grabs you early and doesn't let down much. Of course, the album is best known for the monster single and lead-off track "Brown-Eyed Girl," which has a thumping bassline that I heretofore didn't know existed. "He Ain't Give You None" (where Morrison reminds his girl that he's given her his "jelly roll" time and time again) and "Midnight Special," with its gospel inflected chorus, are the other standouts for me.

After the mandatory two listens, I'm still not sure what to make of the nearly 10-minute "TB Sheets." English poet and musicologist declares it a "Dickensian tale of death and decay in the big city." Marcus--not a fan of the album--calls it "sprawling" and "sensation numbing." To me, it's like certain elements of free jazz; I can appreciate the effort in putting it together but the end result leaves me un-moved. Good album though and a good beginning on a wonderful ride with Van Morrison.

Stimulating sounds: "Nebraska" by Bruce Springsteen

Year released: 1982
Personnel: Just the man by himself (vocals, guitar, harmonica, mandolin, glockenspiel, organ)

You're only ever going to see one album by the Boss in these pages; the rest of his work was a little too popular, over-the-top and well, just too well-known for my tastes. So I will say without reservation that this is the greatest Springsteen album of all time. At least the greatest one I've ever heard. First, a biography of the album, courtesy of wikipedia.

Sparsely-recorded on a cassette-tape Portastudio, the tracks on "Nebraska"were originally intended as demos of songs to be recorded with the E Street Band. However, Springsteen ultimately decided to release the demos themselves. "Nebraska" remains one of the most highly-regarded albums in his catalogue. The songs on the album deal with ordinary, blue collar characters who face a challenge or a turning point in their lives. Unlike his previous albums, very little salvation and grace is present within the songs.

Initially, Springsteen recorded demos for the album at his home with a 4-track cassette recorder. The demos were sparse, using only acoustic guitar, electric organ (on "Open All Night"), harmonica, mandolin, glockenspiel, tambourine, organ and and Springsteen's voice.

Springsteen then recorded the album in a studio with the E Street Band. However, he and the producers and engineers working with him felt that a raw, haunted folk essence present on the home tapes was lacking in the band treatments, and so they ultimately decided to release the demo version as the final album. Complications with mastering of the tapes ensued because of low recording volume, but the problem was overcome with sophisticated noise reduction techniques.

The Boss told "Rolling Stone" in 1984: "I got a little Teac four-track cassette machine, and I said, I'm gonna record these songs, and if they sound good with just me doin' 'em, then I'll teach 'em to the band. I could sing and play the guitar, and then I had two tracks to do somethin' else, like overdub a guitar or add a harmony. It was just gonna be a demo. Then I had a little Echoplex that I mixed through, and that was it. And that was the tape that became the record. It's amazing that it got there, 'cause I was carryin' that cassette around with me in my pocket without a case for a couple of week, just draggin' it around. Finally, we realized, "Uh-oh, that's the album." Technically, it was difficult to get it on a disc. The stuff was recorded so strangely, the needle would read a lot of distortion and wouldn't track in the wax. We almost had to release it as a cassette."

Springsteen fans have long speculated whether Springsteen's full-band recording of the album, nicknamed "Electric Nebraska," will ever surface. In a 2006 interview, manager Jon Landau said it was unlikely and that "the right version of "Nebraska" came out". But in a 2010 interview with "Rolling Stone," E Street Band drummer Max Weinberg praised the full band recording of the album as "killing." Somewhat different band arrangements of most of these songs were heard on the 1984-1985 "Born in the USA" tour and have been played in various guises ever since.

Other songs demoed during the Nebraska sessions include "Born in the USA," "Downbound Train," Child Bride," (later retitled "Working on the Highway"), "Pink Cadillac" and more. Some have leaked on bootlegs.

The album begins with the title cut, a first-person narrative based on the true story of 19-year-old spree killer Charles Starkweather and his and his 14-year-old girlfriend, Caril Ann Fugate, and ends with "Reason to Believe", a complex narrative that renders its title phrase into contemptuous sarcasm.

The remaining songs are largely of the same bleak tone, including the dark "State Trooper," influenced by Suicide's "Frankie Teardrop." Criminal behavior continues as a theme in the song "Highway Patrolman:" even though the protagonist works for the law, he lets his brother escape after he has shot someone (this became the basis for the Sean Penn-directed film "The Indian Runner.") "Open All Night," a Chuck Berry-style lone guitar rave-up, does manage a dose of defiant, humming-towards-the-gallows exuberance.

Springsteen stated that the stories in this album were partly inspired by historian Howard Zinn's book "A People's History of the United States."

A music video was produced for the song "Atlantic City"; it features stark, black-and-white images of the city, which had not yet undergone its later economic transformation. "Atlantic City" was released as a single in the United Kingdom, but not the U.S.

In 1989, "Nebraska" was ranked 43rd on "Rolling Stone" magazine's list of the "100 greatest albums of the 1980s." In 2003, the album was ranked number 224 on "Rolling Stone" magazine's list of the "500 greatest albums of all time." Pitchfork Media listed it the 60th greatest album of the 1980s. In 2006, "Q" magazine placed the album at #13 in its list of "40 Best Albums of the '80s".

And here's a thorough review/analysis, from Janet Sandford at helium.com.

The front cover of Springsteen's "Nebraska" album gives you an insight into what lies within. A desolate road, grey and forlorn, as seen from behind the windscreen of a car. Skies filled with chilling clouds and fields with no trees, like the waste ground has been burnt out. Four colours only used; black, white, grey and bold red lettering. You know the old saying--"every picture tells a story"--well this one definitely does. This album is a haunting piece of work; music to listen to on your own late at night when the rest of the world sleeps. One man only with the sounds of acoustic/electric guitars and his harmonica with a few flourishes of mandolin and glockenspiel thrown in to lighten the dark, heavy load.

For the first ten years Springsteen had moulded his career around rock and roll. He was gutsy, energetic and had a heart of fire. He was successful and adored by millions in the USA. His songs were songs about the real working men of New Jersey and the words he spoke were stories of what went on in their lives; the pain, suffering, laughter, the games they played. So why did he change direction? Surely, it was a great risk commercially? I think he knew that but was willing to take the risk - he wanted to record an album that was personal and he knew that the 10 songs would be best told by him alone with his guitar.

The sound of the album is sparse; originally recorded on a four track in his home the songs were meant to be demos for an 'electric' album but after a session in the studio with his E Street Band, Bruce and recording engineer, Mike Batlin, decided that the 'man alone' sound worked better. Bruce wanted to keep the raw, chilling essence of the acoustic folky sound he had originally created. Good job he did because this is one of his top selling albums of all time and my favourite album of his. It is a masterpiece and I don't use that word lightly.

So what is it all about? A shocking and violent look into the minds of Americans whose dreams have been consumed by the country they live in. The America we see in the pictures Bruce paints is a bruised and battered America and the theme running through the canvas is one of terror, violence and death.

The title track, "Nebraska," is my favourite track. I have played it hundreds of times and every time it leaves me cold and numb. Suddenly Bruce becomes Charlie Starkweather and as he tells us in his Dylanesque way about what him and his 14 year old girlfriend got up to in Wyoming.

I saw her standin' on her front lawn just twirlin' her baton
Me and her went for a ride sir and ten innocent people died
From the town of Lincoln Nebraska with a sawed off .410 on my lap
Through to the badlands of Wyoming I killed everything in my path

The acoustic guitar here is delicate and soothing and his voice is relaxed but so scary. I always believe that he becomes that person - he is the killer. It is such a chilling song and send shivers down my spine and makes my shoulders ache from listening to every terrible word. When he says ...

I can't say that I'm sorry for the things that we done
At least for a little while sir me and her we had us some fun

you hear the madness in his voice; there is no remorse--he isn't sorry. It's like there is a cold evil chill in the delivery of these words--it is so terribly haunting.

When the jury finds him guilty and he speaks near to the end you sense not only irony in his words but sarcasm and contempt. The lyrics are very clever--you don't know whether to believe that he wants to die with her because he loves her so much or he wants to make sure that she gets the death sentence too for her part in the heinous crimes.

Sheriff when the man pulls that switch sir and snaps my poor head back
You make sure my pretty baby is sittin' right there on my lap

The song is associated with the spree killer, Charles Starkweather who murdered 11 people in November 1957 and January 1958 during a road trip with his young girlfriend, Caril Ann Fugate, through Wyoming and Nebraska. The track is the strongest on the album and works so well because of the calmness of the guitar sound, haunting harmonica and chilling narrative. The delivery of the words is direct. Springsteen is calm and collected as he tells his unromanticised tale of cold blooded murder. An outstanding track in every way.

Moving on to "Atlantic City," the second track, we are introduced to violence once more in the form of mob war but at the same time we are introduced to the honest guys-- the ones who are trying to pay off their debts and looking to be rescued from moral corruption and evil. Bruce has moved through his beloved New Jersey, roaming into Atlantic City. I just love the chorus in this song and all the howling noises in the background. There is a sense of being on the edge and an overall feeling of panic in his voice here. Every line is sung with compassion and there's no way out. It's a very dark place and there's no peace, no peace at all but just one little thing like a pretty girl's hair and a meeting at the casino can bring sunshine back into this dark and damaged world.

Well now everything dies baby that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Well I got a job and tried to put my money away
But I got debts that no honest man can pay
So I drew what I had from the Central Trust
And I bought us two tickets on that Coast City bus

If you listen to the words carefully you will notice the quirky way in which he adds the word, 'sir' on to the end of some of the lines. Like when he's talking to the judge in Nebraska but also on Mansion on the Hill when he says, 'there's a place on the edge of town, sir'. This is Springsteen's way of telling a simple tale in language used by the ordinary man who shows respect. Like Joe Roberts in the story of the Highway Patrolman...

My name is Joe Roberts I work for the state
I'm a sergeant out of Perrineville barracks number 8
I always done an honest job as honest as I could
I got a brother named Franky and Franky ain't no good

Lovely, soothing guitar on this track--and if you listen carefully you can just catch the harmonica--soft, mellow and wholesome. Spot the mandolin also played by Bruce--gently, gently--oh so gently--this is a lullaby in some ways--a sad, menacing lullaby if there is such a thing. Bruce takes on the main role of Joe Roberts, a man who works for the law. It's a tale of brotherly love and loyalty when he lets his brother drive free after shooting someone down. When he delivers this last line of the chorus, you feel his shame and disapproval but you know he did what he had to because of the permanent ties of family love.

Man turns his back on his family well he just ain't no good

Another moody track and possibly my third favourite is "State Trooper." Bleak and very dark but with a great bass rhythm on the guitar. The song starts off quietly but gradually builds up and gets louder. Love all the "whoooo" noises and howling by Bruce--really cool. The image is so strong here that I can actually see Bruce driving down the New Jersey highway with the Mr. State Trooper on his tail.

The first few songs on the album concentrate on the evil that can be found in the badlands of America and the killers who spill the blood. Springsteen has always had a special gift when it comes to telling a story. He is a master of his craft and if there is anyone in America who knows the weaknesses of his native land then it is surely him. He's not afraid to tell the world about the wrong doings of the country he loves so much and on this album the picture he paints of America isn't pretty. It is a landscape filled with dust. A stark land with a meanness in the air. The songs are deliberate and unadorned. The images are cold, sparse and very grim.

If there are any signs of optimism then I think you will find them in the song "Used Cars." Again, such wonderful story telling and delivery of the song. At least the protagonist in this song knows that his dreams of vanquishing this miserable life are empty dreams. He's so sick of seeing his Pa work so hard and sick of walking the same old dusty streets and so, so sick of sitting in a used car.

My little sister's in the front seat with an ice cream cone
My ma's in the black seat sittin' all alone
As my pa steers her slow out of the lot for a test drive down Michigan Avenue
Now, my ma, she fingers her wedding band
And watches the salesman stare at my old man's hands
He's tellin' us all 'bout the break he'd give us if he could, but he just can't
Well if I could, I swear I know just what I'd do

Now, mister, the day the lottery I win I ain't ever gonna ride in no used car again

Love the way he delicately plays the acoustic guitar here and the harmonica again, is so beautifully played. I think Springsteen must be my favourite harmonica player. He's never out of tune and it's always a joy to listen to. Which is more than I can say about Dylan's playing. Also, I actually rate Bruce as a good acoustic guitarist. I prefer his acoustic style to electric and love the way he makes the strings talk.

A little upbeat number comes in the form of a rockabilly track, "Open All Night." Possibly the weakest track on the album but still okay.

And then we come to the big one--by the big one I mean the song that tears at your heartstrings. A beautiful song that makes me cry every time I hear it. Before this album Bruce had written other songs about his father and "My Father's House" is the last song in a cycle of father songs. As Bruce quietly and slowly relates his dream about going to the sanctuary that is his father's house and falling into his arms I sense a feeling of devastation and wonder if this is the real Bruce in this song and not one of his characters. When he awakes he finds that his Pa has gone and the house stands at the end of the highway, "where our sins lie unatoned." This track would melt most hearts, I reckon and is my second favourite.

Finally, the last track--"Reason to Believe." A touch of black humour from Bruce in the form of a complex narrative that is full of scorn and sarcasm. Another terribly haunting song. Bruce sings in a confused way - sort of perplexed but with respect for the story's characters. The guitar slowly chugs behind the narrative and waves of bluesy harmonica come floating by every now and again. First class stuff, once again.

So there it is--the finished canvas of a landscape painted by one man and his old fashioned tools--no technology here. Springsteen's "Nebraska" canvas is cold, cutting and brutally abrasive. The characters who are part of the canvas are people who are just ordinary blue collar workers tying loose ends up. People who have come to the crossroads in their lives and realised that it's time to run or face a new challenge. This was the first of the Springsteen challenges. He did well - this is a fantastic portrait of America and I think he can be proud of this work as he can of the rest of his portfolio.

I will just add a small footnote here. I am bound to praise this album because I am a great fan of this man's work but I know other people who are not 'into' Springsteen but really love this album.

To which I agree!

Stimulating sounds: "At the BBC" by Cream

Year released: 2003 (contains recordings that date from between 1966-1968)
Personnel: Jack Bruce (bass, harmonica, vocals); Eric Clapton (guitar, vocals); Ginger Baker (drums, vocals)

We close the chapter on the Cream story with this nice collection of tunes recorded for the British Broadcasting Corporation. A nice complement to the original studio albums. Reviews are from the Beeb and of course, allmusic.

There's a lesson to be learned by the likes of Spiritualized, Lambchop and the Polyphonic Spree here. With Cream less really was more. Who needs three bassists and a marimba player when you can make as sophisticated and joyous a noise with just three musicians? Even the power blues of Led Zeppelin (who surely would never have existed without Eric, Jack and Ginger paving the way) needed four members. And one of them was a multi-instrumentalist. Never before or since has so much volume been made for so many by so few. And that includes the White Stripes.

That's not to say that this is all sturm und drang. The whole secret of Cream's success was their ability to progress from Chicago blues to psychedelia and beyond with a jazzy sophistication. This was due to a seasoned rhythm section that a young Eric Clapton had lacked to support his extended (and extending) soloing in previous bands like the Yardbirds or John Mayall's Bluesbreakers. This album collects and polishes up Cream's BBC sessions - all part and parcel of a standard band's career during the 60s.

While most numbers are mono mixes the skill and sense of a band evolving in double quick time dispel any audio grumbles. Listen as Clapton's guitar style passes through a lysergic filter to move between old standards from his Bluesbreaker days, like Freddie King's ''Steppin Out'', to the wobbly wah-wah tones of ''Tales Of Brave Ulysses''. As EC's guitar gets looser Jack Bruce's vocals get more angelic and Ginger Baker's drums get, err...louder. To top this you get the shockingly youthful tones of Brian Matthew appealing to the 'groovy, tuned-in, turned-on, way out fans' and getting some remarkably ego-free interviews from EC himself.

The fact that the BBC forced the band to curtail any excessive soloing comes as a blessing for those familiar with the longeurs of Wheels Of Fire. Ginger still does his falling-down-stairs impersonation, but it's the succinct, poppy nature of tracks like ''I Feel Free'' and ''Strange Brew'' that forces Clapton to give us guitar work that he's rarely bettered since.

Strangely, this historical overview highlights how their major musical touchstone, the blues, was to eventually lead them astray. Post-Disraeli Gears their muse (tainted by bad blood and too much touring) lapsed into bloated twelve bar behemoths such as ''Politician''. Could Free and Black Sabbath be far behind? Yet even these lows surpass most other contemporaries' best efforts. If you never shelled out for the marvellous 4 cd set, Those Were The Days, here's a handy alternative career overview that'll leave you smiling.

This compilation of 22 Cream BBC tracks from 1966-1968 marked a major addition to the group's discography, particularly as they released relatively little product during their actual lifetime. All of but two of these cuts ("Lawdy Mama" and the 1968 version of "Steppin' Out," which had appeared on Eric Clapton's "Crossroads" box) were previously unreleased, and although many of these had made the round on bootlegs, the sound and presentation here is unsurprisingly preferable.

As for actual surprises, there aren't many. It's a good cross section of songs from their studio records, though a couple, "Steppin' Out" and "Traintime," only appeared on live releases, and some of these BBC takes actually predate the release and recording of the album versions, which makes them of historical interest for intense Cream fans. (There are also four brief interviews with Eric Clapton from the original broadcasts.)

There's a mild surprise in the absence of a version of "White Room," but otherwise many of the group's better compositions and covers are here, including "I Feel Free," "N.S.U.," "Strange Brew," "Tales of Brave Ulysses," "Sunshine of Your Love," "Born Under a Bad Sign," "Outside Woman Blues," "Crossroads," "We're Going Wrong," "I'm So Glad," "SWLABR," and "Politician."

Cream took better advantage of the live-in-the-studio BBC format than some groups of similar stature. There's a lean urgency to most of the performances that, while not necessarily superior to the more fully realized and polished studio renditions, do vary notably in ambience from the more familiar versions. The sound quality is good but not perfect, and variable; sometimes it's excellent, yet at other times there seem to be imperfections in the tapes sourced, with "Sunshine of Your Love" suffering from a (not grievously) hollow, muffled quality.

If there's any other slight criticism of this set, it's that a handful of BBC tracks don't appear, including some that don't make it onto this CD in any version, like "Sleepy Time Time," "Toad," and "Sitting on Top of the World." Given Cream's tendency to over-improvise on the band's live concert recordings, however, the concise nature of these BBC tracks (none of which exceed five minutes) makes them preferable listening in some respects.

Stimulating sounds: "Goodbye" by Cream

Year released: 1969 (three months after the band's breakup in Nov. of 1968)
Personnel: Jack Bruce (bass, piano, organ, lead and background vocals); Eric Clapton (guitar, lead and background vocals); Ginger Baker (drums, percussion, lead and background vocals); Felix Pappalardi (bass on "What a Bringdown," also produced); George Harrison (credited as "L'Angelo Misterioso," rhythm guitar on "Badge.")

Cream's parting gift is a sparse affair but still one with lots of good moments, including the anthemic "Badge." Allmusic has the lowdown.

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.

Stimulating sounds: "Wheels of Fire" by Cream

Year released: 1968
Personnel: Jack Bruce (bass, cello, harmonica, calliope, acoustic guitar, recorder, lead and background vocals); Eric Clapton (guitar, vocals); Ginger Baker (drums, percussion, bells, glockenspiel, typanie, lead and background vocals); Felix Pappalardi (viola, bells, organ, trumpet, tonette, also produced).

Not as masterly as "Disraeli Gears" or as urgent as "Fresh Cream," "Wheels of Fire" still rocks. More experimental and split into live and studio sides, it hints at what direction the band might have gone in had it not imploded months later. And while I'm sure not everyone would disagree, I quite like "Pressed Rat and Warthog." Reviews are from the BBC and allmusic.

Recorded between July 1967 and April 1968 at Atlantic Studios in New York and live at Winterland and Fillmore West, Wheels Of Fire is the apotheosis of Cream. With one disc live and the other in the studio, you gain unparalleled insight to their strengths--the ornate studio productions of Felix Pappalardi, which kept the band lean and focused; alongside the unedited grandstanding of their live performance.

On the studio set, although with their roots very strongly in the blues (their playing and sensibilities were steeped in it), this really was rock music. The power trio format is heard at its greatest on lead track, Jack Bruce and Pete Brown's "White Room". Never were the three players so perfectly harnessed--Eric Clapton's scorching lead over Bruce and Ginger Baker's watertight rhythm section. The arrangements are stunning throughout – from folk to metal with instrumentation such as cello and recorder. However, Ginger Baker's contributions range from the great--"Passing The Time" to the not so great--the Ian Dury presaging "Pressed Rat and Warthog."

There is no such focus on the live side--aside from the extraordinary, defining reading of Robert Johnson's "Crossroads", the lengthy cuts-- including Baker's 16 minute drum solo, "Toad"--show just how excessive the group could be in demonstrating the players' very obvious virtuosity.

The album topped the charts in America and reached No.3 in the UK. Although 1967's Disraeli Gears may be more succinct appraisal of the group, Rolling Stone described the album as "the most representative slice of the Cream legacy," which is absolutely true.

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.

Stimulating sounds: "Disraeli Gears" by Cream

Year released: 1967
Personnel: Jack Bruce (bass, lead and backing vocals, harmonica, keyboard); Eric Clapton (guitars, lead and backing vocals); Ginger Baker (drums, lead and backing vocals)

Cream's masterpiece, the perfect synthesis of their bluesy and psychedelic inclinations. Two reviews here first from the BBC and the second from allmusic.

It started as a joke. Mick Turner one of Cream’s roadies was discussing with drummer, Ginger Baker, how he fancied one of those bikes with’ Disraeli gears’. He meant, of course, derailleur gears, but the band found the mistake hilarious and so the name of one of one of the UK’s premier psychedelic albums was born.

By 1967 Cream had had one rather false start. "Fresh Cream," their first album had been a rushed and rather too purist collection of blues standards and curios, and as such was already by 1966 considered out of step with what was occurring around them. “I Feel Free” had hinted at the wild lysergic undercurrent, but they’d yet to find their heartland in the London underground. One reason this had happened was because of the band’s backgrounds, not only in the blues (as Eric Clapton defected from John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers) but also in Jazz; both Jack Bruce and Baker having served time with Graham Bond. Luckily this wide-ranging set of backgrounds was invaluable in their next step.

Second time around it was far different. Chemicals had been imbibed, Clapton had struck up a friendship with Australian artist Martin Sharp who not only provided the lyrics of “Tales Of Brave Ulysses” but also came up with the splendidly baroque cover. Meanwhile Jack Bruce was now working with underground poet, Pete Brown, whose lyrics were equally trippy. “SWLABR” (it stands for ‘She walks like a bearded rainbow’), “Dance The Night Away” and “Sunshine Of Your Love” were perfect encapsulations of the point where the blues got psychedelic and in turn got heavy. “Sunshine…”’s riff is at once iconic and defines the power trio aesthetic that was to prove so popular with the band’s many disciples.

The other creative catalyst was producer Felix Pappalardi. Co-writing both "World Of Pain" he also helped transform the blueswailing “Lawdy Mama” into the slinky “Strange Brew” – a contender for best album opener of all time. Clapton’s guitar had by now been exposed to the effects heavy stylings of Jimi Hendrix and his heavy use of wah-wah gives Disraeli Gears just the right amount of weirdness, making this probably the most experimental album he ever made. The modish inclusion of Ginger Baker’s rendition of “A Mother’s lament” was the edwardiana icing on the cake. By the band’s demise, two years later Clapton had returned to his first love – straight blues and the band had become the barnstorming power trio hinted at here. For a short time they were bringers of peace and love.

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 Cream get 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 the album away from recycled blues-rock and toward its eccentric British core, for with the fuzzy freakout "Swlabr," the music hall flourishes of "Dance the Night Away," the swinging "Take It Back," and of course, the schoolboy singalong "Mother's Lament," this is a very British record.

Even so, this crossed the ocean and also became a major hit in America, because regardless of how whimsical certain segments are, Cream are 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.

Stimulating sounds: "Fresh Cream" by Cream

Year released: 1966
Personnel: Jack Bruce (bass, harmonica, vocals); Eric Clapton (guitar, vocals); Ginger Baker (drums, vocals)

Two reviews here, the first from the BBC and the second from allmusic.

Laid down at the height of the United Kingdom blues boom, Fresh Cream covers the kind of territory you might expect from three of the most respected players on the scene at the time. With Clapton fresh just from his time with John Mayall, Ginger Baker leaving behind the R'n'B backwaters of Graham Bond Organisation, and a woefully under-employed Jack Bruce hightailing it from the increasingly pop-leaning Manfred Mann, the electric blues was their natural turf.

Highlights include the racing harmonica work-out, and the call and response excitements on Muddy Waters’ “Rollin’ and Tumblin,’” a spine-tingled vocal on the Willie Dixon classic, “Spoonful” as well as the self-penned “Sleepy Time Time” which gives Clapton a free hand to wake up all and sundry. The traditional standard, "Cat’s Squirrel" is given a rousing treatment, showing how well these players meshed. Only a particularly anaemic stroll through Robert Johnson’s “Four Until Late”, sounds like a side filler.

What lifts this album beyond the blues-tinged pigeon-hole are some superior pop songs brought along for the ride.

It’s well-neigh impossible to hear the opening bars of “I Feel Free” without conjuring up images of dolly birds, hip young guys in new threads full of finger-clicking coolness hopping aboard one of those brand new Mini cars and soaring off for groovy times. Cultural cliché’s aside, given the amount of musical information that’s been packed into those two minutes and fifty-five seconds, it’s a wonder the thing doesn’t implode under the weight of its own inventiveness.

The rhythmic ambitions and ambiguity of “NSU” adds to the thrill, and if some of it doesn’t quite work as well as it should (Bruce’s dreary “Dreaming” is especially lame), “Sweet Wine” with its psyche-tinged lyrics and the heavy breakout offers a clear hint of what was to come. Overshadowed by its more famous successor (1967’s Disraeli Gears) and their reputation lengthy improvisations during which mighty civilisations would rise and fall, their debut captures one of those elusive moments in music when blues, pop and rock magically starts to coalesce to create something brand new.

"Fresh Cream" represents so man 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'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.

Stimulating cinema: Made in Dagenham

Director: Nigel Cole
Year released: 2010

Even if you don't know anything about the real life events that inspired this film, you can probably figure out how it's going to turn out pretty quickly. And even still it doesn't detract from the film in the last. The cast is uniformly excellent--major characters all the way down to minor ones--and everyone is played pitch perfectly. The costumes and settings are excellent and the story flows along nicely, without any wasted scenes or detours. Good one from director Nigel Cole--and if you don't believe me then I'm sure you'll trust Roger Ebert. His review was originally on Nov. 23, 2010.

Ford is having a great year, and I just bought one of its new Fusions. How would I feel if I discovered the women building it had been paid less than the men, simply because they were ... well, women? If a woman does the same job as a man, should she receive the same pay? Yes, says common sense. No, say corporations who will disregard anything in the search for profits.

Ford, let me hasten to add, has a policy of equal pay for equal work. It was not always that way with Ford, and to be fair, most corporations. “Made in Dagenham” takes place as recently as 1968, when the British Ford plant in Dagenham paid women significantly lower wages than men — with the agreement of their own unions and the Labour government of Harold Wilson.

Why was this so? Did they do less work? No. In fact, they were highly productive. It was so because the unions, the company and the government were run by men, and I dunno, I guess they just weren't used to thinking about women in that way. “Made in Dagenham” is a delightfully entertaining movie based on fact. The women went on strike, annoyed their unions and their husbands and embarrassed Wilson, who was caught with his principles down.

Sally Hawkins, that emerging dynamo of British acting, stars as Rita O'Grady, who sews automobile seat covers in what is literally a sweatshop; she and her co-workers have to strip down to bra and panties because of the unbearable heat. Her union organizer Albert Passingham (Bob Hoskins) is a left-winger whose principles run deeper than his union's. He was raised by a brave mother, instinctively admires women and sees with his own eyes that unequal pay is wrong.

Rita, a quiet woman, almost by accident becomes the shop steward. Albert spots the way her humanity cuts through politics. Using her first as a surrogate, he encourages the idea of a strike. The head of the union (Kenneth Cranham) at Ford “works closely with management,” as they say, and the government is also not eager to alienate a big corporate employer. All Rita O'Grady knows is that she works hard and believes that what's fair is fair.

A brief strike escalates into a much larger one. Her own husband, Eddie (Daniel Mays), is against her. The usual alarms circulate about left-wing influences. But when Rita is seen on the telly (and she is), she makes it all seem so simple (because it is). The strike at Dagenham changed history, in England and America, at Ford and many other manufacturers and elsewhere in the developed world. It's one reason so many jobs are outsourced to places where labor unions and equal pay do not find favor.

The struggle is far from over. Only last week, a Republican filibuster in the U.S. Senate prevented passage of the Paycheck Fairness Act, which would have added teeth to measures for equal pay. You don't see many GOP ads saying it's against equal pay, but it is. So are corporations, and there may be a connection, but it's harder to say now that corporate political contributions can be secret.

But back to Dagenham. Although Albert set the ball rolling, Rita quickly found tons of support, some of it in unlikely places. One backer of the strike was the government's Labor minister, Barbara Castle (Miranda Richardson). A “fiery redhead” (why are all redheads “fiery”?), she defied the pipe-puffing Wilson, who didn't want to alienate Ford.

She explained her reason: “Harold, you are wrong.” Probably the movie's best scene is when Castle receives O'Grady and her co-workers in her office and astonishes them by giving her support. Her decision put the Labour Party on the spot.

Another ally is much more unlikely. She is Lisa Hopkins (Rosamund Pike), who is married to a top executive at Ford. She received a first-class education, could have had a career but now finds herself playing the role of a well-trained and tamed corporate wife. Her husband, Peter (Rupert Graves), assumes that of course she opposes the striking women. Not so fast there, Pete.

Niki Caro's 2005 film “North Country” starred Charlize Theron in a similar story about a woman who won the first American sexual harassment lawsuit. That was in 1984. Some men are slow to figure these things out. The unexpected thing about “Made in Dagenham” is how entertaining it is. That's largely due to director Nigel Cole's choice of Sally Hawkins for his lead. In Mike Leigh's “Happy Go Lucky” (2009) and again here, she shows an effortless lightness of being. If she has a limitation, it may be that she's constitutionally ill-adapted for playing a bad person.