He was classically trained and
would become one of the greatest bass players of his generation. His fights
with drummer, Ginger Baker, became legendary, but when push came to shove,
Bruce and Baker formed a group with a young superstar guitarist, Eric Clapton,
and Cream was born. They were the band of my youth, the one I listened and
played drums to most often. They didn’t use flash or gimmicks. They didn’t
dress like clowns (Kiss), or jump all over the stage (Jagger), or destroy their
instruments (The Who) … they showed up and played and no other band, no matter
how many members, could play like them.
I probably played the Wheels of
Fire album until it was worn out, but the live version of Spoonful and
Crossroads kept me on my drum throne for days at a time. I couldn’t come close,
but it was always fun, and I couldn’t stop trying. Bruce, Clapton and Baker
took the Mississippi Delta Blues and reintroduced it to an America that seemed
to have been wearing earmuffs.
They sold over 35,000,000 albums
in the brief span of two years … they didn’t last as a group and kind of
reformed as Blind Faith (minus Bruce and plus Steve Winwood and Rich Gretch),
but Bruce went on to play with several other bands, including those he started,
before his bash with drugs nearly killed him. A liver transplant that didn’t
take at first nearly killed him again.
Clapton's
brief remarks to the crowd suggested lingering nerves and fears of
overexpectation. "Thanks for waiting all these years," he said, after
a rare live outing of "Outside Woman Blues," from Disraeli Gears.
"I think we're going to do every song we know," quickly noting,
"We'll play them as well as we can." But when Clapton pointed out
that "the slings and arrows of misfortune cut us down in our prime,"
Baker was having none of it. "What do you mean?" he interjected with
needling glee. "This is our prime."
When they announced they would
be coming to New York’s Madison Square Garden, I was tempted to go and see them
… but the ticket scalpers wanted blood I wasn’t willing to spare. In the end, I
wound up buying a new drum kit (probably for about the price the tickets would’ve
cost me) and I had a blast. I did order
the DVD of their reunion tour and must’ve played it a few dozen times before figuring
out how to use Youtube and listening to them at work.
I didn’t know Bruce died until
my stepson mentioned it at dinner last week. I knew he was sick, but had no
idea how sick. I was saddened, because a part of my youth and love of music
died with him. You can see just how sick he was when he was interviewed about
his last album, Silver Rails.
Eric Clapton’s tribute to Bruce
here. It is hauntingly similar to the one he wrote and played for his son.
The Cream reunion interviews …
Does sex require love? Does love
require sex? And what about emotion (kitsch)
vs. reason? Ayn Rand would have had a field day putting the kybosh on emotion,
and there are those who still buy into her lustful greed 1000%, but they’re
most often the people the rest of us avoid (or try to avoid) like the plague.
Written in and out of
chronological order, with the author making brief appearances and announcing
his presence, Kundera offers his readers two couples, a young man and a dog to
present his case(s) … or are they dilemmas? Much of the action (or non-action)
has to do with the Soviet Union’s 1968 invasion of Czechoslovakia. Tomáš (the
protagonist) is a surgeon consumed with the Oedipus story: When someone acts
with total conviction while doing something with the best intentions, and later
learns those same actions were used (or indirectly supported) something evil (i.e.,
Czech intellectuals supporting communism), are they blameless or guilty? Tomáš
once wrote an article suggesting those responsible, no matter their best
intentions, are guilty and therefore should “cut out their eyes” (so to speak).
And for that gem, although his article was actually edited down a third of its
original length, gets him booted from the hospital and eventually finds him
washing windows for a living (not that that makes him a bad person).
Tomáš is also a once divorced serial
womanizer who believes sex and love have nothing to do with one another, so
once he beds down a waitress he met in a small town (after she shows up to his
door by invitation), he falls in love with her (Tereza). His infidelity runs
wild (remember, he doesn’t connect sex with love) and drives Tereza a little pazzo. What happens between these two is
often told in separate perspectives, which enhances the story for me. Kundera
also ponders a Beethoven Quartet Es muß sein! (It must be) … although I have to admit there were a few times where
the philosophical back and forth, as interesting as they could be, became a bit
dry and interrupted the flow.
Tomáš has a favorite mistress,
Sabina (a painter who lives a life as far from emotional attachment as
possible; she’s the kitsch hater, so to speak). During the Russian invasion,
she escaped to Geneva and started an affair with a bored professor (and his
issues). We learn early and it is sustained throughout that Sabina believes in
betrayals.
From
tender youth we are told by father and teacher that betrayal is the most
heinous offence imaginable. But what is betrayal? Betrayal means breaking
ranks. Betrayal means breaking ranks and going off into the unknown. Sabina
knew of nothing more magnificent than going off into the unknown.
It is following Sabina’s story
when we come across the novel’s title: Her
drama was a drama not of heaviness but of lightness. What fell to her lot was
not the burden but the unbearable lightness of being.
For Sabina, emotion equates to
heaviness … something she abhors … for her, avoiding the emotional (the
heaviness) leads to a lightness (a form of bliss).
No spoilers, but there’s a female
dog named after Karenin – named after Count Alexei Alexandrovich Karenin
(Anna’s husband) from the Tolstoy novel. The way humans treat animals is most
telling. That Kantian statement is also posited in the novel via the pooch,
Karenin: “We can judge the heart of a man
by his treatment of animals."
When Tomáš’ son from his first
marriage enters the story, it is near the end and their relationship (which has
been a conscious non-relationship for Tomáš), and is immediately put into
jeopardy. Again, no spoilers.
This was a good read for me, but
I have selfish reasons for enjoying it maybe more than I should claim. The best
thing writers can do outside of doing the work that is writing is and always
will be read(ing). I have been working on a novel that involves young couples
and infidelity. It’s a good sized draft, but the more I work on it, the more I
want a new beginning. Kundera’s Omniscient 3rd provided it for me …
at first probably subconsciously, but now it’s a very intentional plagiarizing
of a writing style I’d long been neglecting.
I’ve yet to see the movie, but I
will have to … even though the author himself was appalled at the production
and claimed The Unbearable Lightness of Being would be the first and last book
of his to wind up on the big screen.
TK
RECOMMENDS THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING.
Skype
me in the morning, baby … I’ll be switching days off next week
(working Monday/taking off Tuesday) to participate in a Skyped(?) discussion
about POV (point of view) with students of my 4th semester mentor,
Diane Les Bequets (what I used to pronounce: Less Buckets). I’ll be using my
third semester critical research paper on Richard Yates use of third person
omniscient in the discussion, as well as why I chose to move from my own use of
third person (from my crime writing) to 2nd person in my thesis.
Thanks to Diane for the invite.
Check out and get Diane’s works here:
Funny Poster of the week ...
Jack Bruce (playing with Cream) … one of my favorites, We’re Going Wrong …
