nicholauspatnaude

Beware what he guards, or what he has forever guarded; for beneath those crackling snares and blurred sticks, you might catch the ghost of Max Roach or the birth of psychedelia. The tyme has come to revisit those Cream records as loudly as possible–to redial and recall that sparkling fusion in the shadow of a glare; now let the screaming axe ride the horizon of his pounding as the bass pedals back, slipping from the sweet sweat of fear.

Tags: beware mr. baker, blind faith, cream, ginger baker, music, poetry