My friend over the back fence invited me to come and hear his latest LP. Greg was two days older than me and we’d been playmates since our Mums met on the maternity ward. But in terms of musical sophistication, Greg was years, worlds, away from me.

Not in terms of understanding how music worked; having learned the piano for years I could follow the construction of classical music just like piecing together objects from the Meccano set under my bed. But in our house, popular music was simply excluded. Meanwhile, Greg’s parents not only tolerated his bringing ‘dreadful noise’ into the home, they even paid for the records. It was a bizarre and unreal indulgence and, due to my almost complete ignorance of what was current, rather intimidating… but I went anyway.

And I was a little bit excited, too. How different from tinny snatches of tunes captured from passing transistors, like smells drifting from strangers’ kitchens; this time I would actually hear an album on a real stereo. Well, his parents radiogram anyway. Although it was much the same as the polished veneer box in our lounge room the vital difference was that while ours played only Gilbert And Sullivan, theirs embraced the exotic sounds of Creedence Clearwater Revival, Jimi Hendrix and —of course —The Beatles.

So over the fence I clambered, said ‘Hello’ to Mrs Lee at the back door and headed for their lounge room. Greg was waiting impatiently. “You’ve gotta hear this,” he gasped, “a TEN MINUTE drum solo”. Even in my profound state of rock ignorance I felt my heart sink slightly. But putting on a brave face I dropped to the carpet as he dropped the stylus onto the vinyl.

No percussive assault streamed out of the cabinet but a wonderfully melancholic voice singing with soul-stretching longing that somehow bathed me in light and simultaneously broke my heart … Waiting in our boats to set sail… The sea of joy. Straining for the high notes like a hand reaching for a soaring seagull; the hessian tones of a violin providing a surprisingly reflective interlude before the riff returned with rolling tidal toms and the song faded over the horizon much too soon.

Later, much later, I learned what transported me that Thursday afternoon was ‘Sea Of Joy’, the opening song on side two of a flawed yet sometimes sublime album simply called Blind Faith.

I learned that this first supergroup consisted of guitar supremo Eric Clapton, multi-instrumentalist and vocalist Steve Winwood, Ginger Baker on drums and bass player Rick Grech, all of whom had colourful histories even before they made this one album together. That the bass player also contributed the violin.

That the cover I clutched in my hands and read thirstily while Rick then Ginger meandered through their interminable solos in ‘Do What You Like’ was not the startling one originally issued by their UK record company in August 1969 but a special ‘uncontroversial’ version for the colonies. Both versions would one day nestle next to each other in a music room cluttered with more records and compact discs than any sane person could possibly need.

On that day I knew only that Gilbert And Sullivan was as dead as Queen Victoria.


[This is an edited version of an early post from Vinyl Connection]


13 thoughts on “SEA OF JOY

  1. I have never heard any of their music, although I have heard of Blind Faith. I probably didn’t get into listening to good music until the late 70’s when I became a tween. I heard some classics but not that far back I guess. So, I had to go YouTube the song. Awesome! I feel like I should be doing some 420 now.
    The things you learn on WordPress! Thanks for introducing to some great music. Looking forward to reading your blog.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Having commented previously on the original over at VC, I will limit myself here to simply calling out the following AMAZING piece of prose — could be your (to-date) zenith:

    But in terms of musical sophistication, Greg was years, worlds, away from me.

    (edit this out, but you might want to consider starting the penultimate sentence with “Both” vice “That.”)

    Liked by 1 person

  3. That an initial experience of music can stick with us for years never ceases to amaze me. And thank God it does, right? That original UK cover really was something. In some noodling around on the web, I learned that the girl in question was just 11 years old (hello!, where were her parents?!). As payment, she wanted a horse, but received 40 pounds instead. In one piece I read, she was quoted as saying,“By the way, I’m still waiting for Eric Clapton to ring me about the horse.”

    Liked by 1 person

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