“It’s the individuality”: The two bands Ginger Baker thought were irreplaceable
The erratic and volatile reputation that surrounds Ginger Baker can often overshadow how brilliantly innovative a drummer he was. His notoriety isn’t unfounded, swinging a knife at future Cream bassist Jack Bruce while on stage in the earlier Graham Bond Organisation group, a 19-year heroin habit, destructive marriages, fractured relationships with his children, and a crack on the nose with a metal cane for documentary film-maker Jay Bulger on 2012’s Beware of Mr. Baker, showing a fancy for casual violence even in his old age.
Alongside his scabrous misanthropy was a powerhouse drumming mastery, capable of solo showmanship and thunderous rock heft but fluid enough for a looser style of playing inspired by his love for jazz and afrobeat. Forever defined by his work with Cream and off-shoot Blind Faith, Baker’s creative intuitions saw his percussive skills lent to a variety of disparate artists, including Hawkwind, Public Image Ltd, Atomic Rooster, and collaborating with Bill Laswell on his Horses & Trees solo record.
His most notable partnership was with Nigeria’s Fela Kuti. Performing in Lagos with Kuti’s Africa ’70 big band in 1971, Baker subsequently set up a 16-track studio Batakota (ARC) in the then-Nigerian capital, affording a host of local afrobeat musicians easy access to professional recording facilities plus inviting Paul McCartney’s Wings to cut Band on the Run‘s ‘Picasso’s Last Words (Drink to Me)’.
Ever the eccentric, his sudden obsession with horse polo struck a fork firmly in the road of his and Kuti’s friendship, Baker’s cavorting with the Nigerian upper class at odds with Kuti’s political convictions against the country’s ruling state.
Speaking with healthy amounts of ego, Baker spoke to Beat Instrumental in 1972 about his perception of Cream’s unmatched level of originality: “Cream were three excellent musicians who, for a period of time, worked so together. There was a sort of ESP between us.”
Pushed on how the ‘magic’ he shared with Bruce and Eric Clapton came to an end: “No one will ever replace The Beatles. Cream played Cream. Beatles played Beatles. It’s that individuality and originality that made it popular.”
The Fab Four cut a truly individual mark from their debut single ‘Love Me Do’. The John Lennon and McCartney songbook leapt out of the speakers with a bolder, rawer, and exhilaratingly fresh take on pop during their Beatlemania heydey, and The Beatles’ embrace of music’s vast cosmos of genres and stylings, from music hall theatre to avant-garde musique concrète, displayed a level of creative ambition unseen in the mainstream before.
To Baker, The Beatles’ genius was that they were just themselves. Rejecting labels and easy marketing tags, Baker made clear his contempt for Cream’s persistent ‘rock’ association: “We were always having rows with reporters because they wanted to name it… I’ve never put a name to music. You play yourself. I just play what feels natural for me to play. If music is enjoyed by the people then I’m happy. It was just our music.” When pressed on his influences, Baker quipped a characteristically wry retort: “I’ve got about two million influences.”
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