Beware of Mr. Baker, is a documentary about Ginger Baker, one of the world’s greatest drummers. It made me audibly express amazement twice, and only once because of his drumming. The film’s title is taken from a sign at the gate of Baker’s South African property–and talk about truth in advertising! B.O.M.B. begins, and ends, with Baker physically assaulting its director, who then laughs it off! Celebrity insulates, but some artists are so influential that it’s an honor to be in their orbit, even momentarily, regardless of the circumstances.
Beware of Mr. Baker, is a documentary about Ginger Baker, one of the world’s greatest drummers. It made me audibly express amazement twice, and only once because of his drumming. The film’s title is taken from a sign at the gate of Baker’s South African property–and talk about truth in advertising! B.O.M.B. begins, and ends, with Baker physically assaulting its director, who then laughs it off! Celebrity insulates, but some artists are so influential that it’s an honor to be in their orbit, even momentarily, regardless of the circumstances.
Many years ago, my friends Blaine Capatch, Patton Oswalt, and I, went to see rock legend Bo Diddley play–backed by a country band–in a bar in Wichita. Bo’s body of work is so ubiquitous that he didn’t need to travel with a band. Every band knows his songs. Mr. Diddley had directly influenced everyone from Buddy Holly to The Stones, but in the early 90’s he was playing small clubs with pick-up bands, signing Xeroxed copies of his headshots for fans after the show, and paying special attention to the ladies. And kicking ass.
Patton, being more intrepid than Blaine or I, made his way across the stage to where Bo was surrounded by girls to cop an autograph Bo sensed a ripple in the force, stopped what he was doing, locked eyes with Patton, and yelled: “GET OFF THE STAGE!” Blaine and I were suitably impressed. We were thrilled for him: “Bo Diddley noticed you! He doesn’t even know we exist!” Since then, I’m glad to say that Patton’s attained that level of celebrity insulation himself: “Patton Oswalt kicked me in the ass! I’ll never wash it again!!”
So, Ginger split director Jay Bulger’s nose open with a cane, and he remained friendly with Ginger, and promoted the film with him, recognizing that the assault amounted to a million dollars worth of publicity for his project.
Like any one in showbiz, I was at first skeptical that the incident was staged, which is to be expected from someone who’s been “in the belly of the beast.” And by that, I don’t mean to imply that I’m an industry insider, I mean that I was swallowed whole by show business, and crapped out among Malibu’s chaparral-covered mountains. As B.O.M.B. unfolds, it seems more and more likely that the assault happened organically.
Tales of deranged drummer debauchery are nothing new, but Ginger Baker seems to have set the standard for anti-social rock star behavior. He played with some of the most influential groups of all time, replacing Charlie Watts in Alexis Korner’s Blues Incorporated, and beating the skins for The Graham Bond Organization, Cream, Blind Faith, and, much later, Public Image Limited.
Baker influenced legions of drummers, and many are featured. Each of them in turn praise Ginger’s ability, and make excuses for his conduct. The only celebrity Baker seems to have influenced in terms of disposition is Johnny Rotten, nee John Lydon, whose segment starts the ball rolling. Lydon sings Ginger’s praises, and finds no fault with his attitude, whatsoever. Marky Ramone adds that maybe you have to be a little crazy to play the drums like that, which may be true. Baker doesn’t play the drums; he attacks them like they fingered his sister.
With Cream, in the late 60’s, Ginger was a pioneer in not only filling stadiums with fans, but for his ability to fill a stadium with people he’s offended. Tickets were $60 for Baker’s recent appearance at Iridium, a premiere NYC Jazz Club, and he reportedly played for less than 30 minutes and snarled at the audience that he was too tired to go on, and had to do a second show. Baker allegedly came back onstage, presumably at the insistence of the management, and sneered at the audience that they were going to get their pound of flesh.
The film does a good job of explaining Ginger’s sociopathic tendencies. Baker was born on August 19, 1939—just before war was declared on Germany. His father died when he was just four-and-a-half years old, and Ginger vividly remembers the bombings, and how upon returning to school; “There were quite a few empty desks.” Baker says he still loves explosions to this day. Yeah, especially explosions of anger! Baker claims that he was a pacifist until he read a letter his father left him, urging him to stand up for himself with his fists. Clearly, the letter found Ginger ready to take direction. If only his father had urged him to direct his efforts toward world peace.
Baker’s first wife shares that he was always looking for a father figure, and they were always drummers. The first was Phil Seamen, who introduced Ginger to heroin use and African drumming, which would remain passions for the rest of Baker’s life. Cream bassist/vocalist Jack Bruce first played with Baker in Alexis Korner’s Blues Incorporated, and they were cherry-picked by organist Graham Bond for his Graham Bond Organization. Ginger says that he and Graham used to shoot up a mixture of heroin, cocaine, and L.S.D. That’s an “up,” a “down,” and a “sideways!” Somebody should have organized an intervention.
During a gig with Graham Bond, Ginger was of the opinion that Jack Bruce was playing bass during his drum solo, an assertion that Jack denies. So, Ginger physically attacked Jack with a knife, and then fired him. Which seems like overkill. I say, either pull a knife on a guy or fire him. To do both seems excessive. And nevermind that it was The Graham Bond Organization. When the guy with the knife says you’re fired, you’re fired.
Yet, when Baker put Cream together, he chose Bruce as Cream’s bassist/vocalist. As compatible as they were musically, they possessed completely incompatible personalities, with Eric Clapton caught in the middle. When a comparison is made between Baker, John Bonham, and Keith Moon, Eric Clapton’s quick to point out that Ginger can write, compose, and arrange—he’s nothing like those players. Ginger is able to keep perfect time with all four appendages, so he doesn’t so much play fast, as play everything in sight, all at once.
Cream was the first “Super Group” and is considered by many to be the first jam band, and the first arena rock band. Lars Ulrich of Metallica shares the opinion that Cream gave birth to heavy metal, and Baker snorts that it should have been aborted. Throughout B.O.M.B., Ginger looks and acts like a Lord Of The Rings character with his perpetual scowl, piercingly crazy eyes, scraggly beard, crooked teeth, and ever-present strange headgear. He’s like Gandalf The Grey’s bipolar brother.
After Cream disbanded, Baker’s earnings downsized while his lifestyle did not. Baker carried on touring with large bands, playing polo, and engaging in “drum battles” with the greatest drummers of the day (Elvin Jones, Phil Seamen, Art Blakely), which led to him becoming close friends with them all.
Long before anyone else did it, Baker traveled to Africa to experiment with African Rhythms, and wound up staying. Lagos, Nigeria was a hotbed of violent revolution at the time, but from the perspective of a guy who loves explosions, “It was a great place to be!” After living in Africa several years, Baker was approached by gangsters who wanted a piece of the studio he’d built. Baker predictably told them to go fuck themselves, and fled amid a hail of bullets, never to return. Presumably, Ginger made the mistake of bringing his knife to a gunfight.
Baker and his polo ponies flew back to England, which caught the taxman’s eye. His family lost their house, and Ginger married the teenage sister of his daughter’s first boyfriend. Baker again paved the way for future generations of rockers. In the late 70’s, as his fortunes waned, and his young bride deserted him, Baker slid back into drug addiction, and he’s clearly nodding out during some of the latter day interview footage, so it can be assumed that he still dabbles, but it’s hard to believe that Ginger is partying too hard at 77 years old.
Clapton not only cleaned up, but started a treatment facility in Antigua, so he doesn’t comment onscreen about Ginger’s lifestyle beyond referring to him a loveable rogue. Cream’s 2005 Royal Albert Hall Reunion Concerts reportedly netted Baker $5 million dollars, which he seems to have pissed away in true rock star fashion. And they say old guys have trouble peeing!
This film has everything you want in a rockumentary, as well as a healthy dose of footage of the bands Ginger’s played with. I give it an enthusiastic “two drumsticks into the audience!”
Lord Carrett