After a mere three albums in just under three years, Cream called it quits … Read Full Bio ↴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.
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.
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Goodbye
Cream Lyrics
Badge Thinkin' 'bout the times you drove in my car Thinkin' that…
Doing That Scrapyard Thing When I was young they gave me a mongrel piano, Spent…
I'm So Glad [Chorus:] I'm so glad I'm so glad I'm glad, I'm glad, I'm gl…
Politician Hey now, baby Get into my big black car Hey now, baby Get…
Sitting On Top Of The World One summer day, she went away; Gone and left me, she's…
What A Bringdown Dainties in a jam-jar parson's colour in the sky. Water in…
Ralph Signorelli
on Spoonful
First time I heard Cream I was stoned out of my mind on LSD lying of the floor between two very large speakers, for 8 hours. These guys are the best musicians England ever produced. All Rock music after this was just was just imitation.