So, I'm in northern California and my best friend, Barry, is in Orlando Florida. Two of my other best friends are in London. The Cream tickets go on sale 9 am today London time, ONE AM my time, and FOUR AM Orlando time. Oof. Barry and I liaise...I will call the Albert Hall box office, he will call the internet booking office...all the servers were overloaded, of course.

But before that, I tried all my connections...I called Gary Brooker...Eric hadn't even mentioned the concert to him. I called Dave Bronze, who plays bass with Eric fairly regularly...he was going to struggle through with the phone same as the rest of us. I called my friend Pete in London to ask if he could try to get tickets for us...Barry would give him one for trying if he got through. Pete couldn't resist telling me that his brother, who is in "The Cure" has become good friends with Jack Bruce and his wife, and the Jack held back two tickets for him...for free, as well....which is especially galling! But of course, I'm happy for Pete.

I tried Pete Brown...no luck there either. Of course, everyone in the world was pulling every string they could wangle, plus all the radio stations, managers, record companies, music publishers, movie people...everyone and anyone.

Thank fucking Christ for REDIAL! Without that, it would have been a nightmare...still, I tried for FOUR hours straight, but couldn't get through. Barry and I emailed each other periodically, "How are you doing? Any luck?" No. He didn't have any either. We both decided that if either of us got through, we would buy four (the limit) of the best seats that were available, hopefully for the last concert date. If we both ended up with tickets and we had too many, it would certainly easy to get rid of them, and probably cover our costs as well. So, that was our strategy.

But, no result. I crashed, Barry crashed. Shelby woke up bright and early and decided to give it a go. On her FIRST attempt, SHE GOT THROUGH! (that's what you get for leading an exemplary life...not ne're-do-wells and reprobates like Barry and I). Shelby got the LAST four tickets available through the internet site....in the "choir" seats 7 rows above and behind the stage...some of the most expensive seats and a real coup. But, they are for the second concert, not our choice of the last one...still, any port in a storm, right?

Then Barry gives me the coup de grace: Shelby was talking with the girl on the internet site and she told Shelby about a ticket tout site....Shelby called them and got TWO fourth row seats in the stalls (right in front of the stage) for the third gig for....FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS!!!!! Barry reckons that Shelby has scored so many Brownie points that he'll never be able to catch up. We have vowed to walk ten paces behind her wherever we all go together and bow our heads and wash the dishes!

Then I talked to another friend of mine in London and you won't believe this (the bastard), he got one ticket for EACH of the four nights, ALL in the first 10 rows, and ONE of them in the FRONT ROW!!!!!!!! (the third concert).

Amazing.

If they played 30 concerts at the Albert Hall, they would ALL sell out.

Now, let me tell you a little bit about me and Cream:

When Cream first came to America in 1966, I went to EVERY concert at the Fillmore and the one at Winterland. I was so blown away by them (remember, we were listening the The Jefferson Airplane, the Grateful Dead, Big Brother, etc...fairly lightweight acts at that time) that I went out the next day and got a Ginger Baker clone drum kit and learned how to play. I was Cream crazy, and a complete fan of Eric and Ginger and Jack...that's when I got the Eric bug. What a player.

I formed a band two weeks later (YES!) called "Too Much Too Soon" (we were) and we played several clubs murdering Hendrix and Cream...but our audience seemed to love it (they were drunk). So what, we were DOING it!

I then moved to London at the end of 1969 and began playing over there, meeting the London muso crowd, which was quite small at the time. I met Pete Brown early on---lovely guy---and would meet at his house to pick up a guitarist and we would motor up to a place called Baldock to rehearse with a trumpeter named Alan Bown. One day I received a phone call from the great Graham Bond (Jack and Ginger had been playing with Graham for years when Ginger called Eric and asked if he wanted to join Jack and him to form a power trio). I showed up at the country house and set up my kit under Graham's eagle eye. "You like Ginger, huh?"

"I sure as hell do," I said. "Good," he said, "let's get rockin'!" We stayed up all night and I was in the band. Quite a jump from five years earlier!

Graham was living with me for the last three months of his life, when he disappeared one day. He was killed by "jumping" in front of an Underground train at Finsbury park station (Ginger reckons he fell because he was so clumsy and Long John Baldry equally reckons he was pushed---I think he jumped...more on that later). Jack played a jazzy funeral dirge at the funeral ...Ginger couldn't make it...he was out in the bhundu rallying in Africa.

After Graham died, I ran into Ginger at a huge rehearsal facility in North End Road and told him how much Graham loved him. Ginger squinted at me and barked, "I know that!" and walked away. I felt like belting him. His feeling was 'who the hell is this American twit upstart telling ME about Graham and I.' I take his point, but I still felt like belting him. There are ways and
there are ways.

I moved to LA in 1975 and in the early 80's played a couple of private gigs in Surrey with Eric and friends (I only sat in for a few numbers) when I was over there. I met the aforementioned Barry (who is English and a former racing driver...another passion of mine---racing) and in 1991 Barry called me up and said, "Ginger Baker is giving drum lessons at the Trancas Inn in Mailbu. Let's go!" So, we signed up and took lessons from Ginger, who was living in LA at the time. This time we got off to a friendly start. One evening, Ginger brought in an 8X10 glossy photo of himself and a good friend named Colin posing with Ginger's Land Rover in Africa.

Then I moved back over to England in 1991 (and I'm preparing to do the same again in a few months...by the time of the Cream gigs in early May) and got together with Saiichi Sugiyama to play in his blues band through an ad I placed in Melody Maker. Saiichi never looks at the ads for musos, and he can't remember phone numbers...but this time he did both for some reason.

One day a gorgeous Japanese girl started coming to the gigs and was eyeballing ME! Obviously a friend of Saiichi's (I think there only 13 Japanese in the whole of England). We were introduced, and I began seeing Yuki from time to time. Yuki was a recent widow, so I had to tread very carefully. She smoked, so that was deal-breaker for me (I hate it), but we liked each other and one evening she invited me over for dinner and said, "You like Ginger Baker, don't you?" I nodded. She said, "I'll be right back," and ran upstairs. Yuki came down the stairs with THE VERY SAME PHOTO of Ginger and Colin! I said, "Where did you get THAT!!??" totally gobsmacked. There was NO connection between seeing that photo with Ginger in Malibu, and seeing it with Yuki in north London six months later. "This is Colin...my husband. He was Eric's amp tech and was killed in the helicopter crash that killed Stevie Ray Vaughan on that tour."

Oof.

Saiichi and I then formed a trio with Les Lambert and we called ourselves "Creamy" and played all Cream numbers. I remember one gig at a huge pub in North London where a young guy came up to me and asked, "Did you guys write 'I'm So Glad?' It was GREAT!" Oh dear.

Saiichi now plays regularly with Pete Brown..and when I get back over there, I plan to play with them (if Saiichi will let me on stage! Ha!).

So, that is my constant connection with Cream and the members thereof...the best rock band ever. Period.

I will cover the gig for Modern Guitars Magazine and Strat Collector News....so, stay tuned for all the juice!