Superheroes

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's Cream Team!

by Joe Longone

The Creammmm Teammmm. This loose alliance of musical superheroes who have come to our fair metropolis make a night out at the clubs fun again. Prevailing over every foe at the final Battle of the Bands at Sir Morgan's Cove, these sensational seven are here to champion funk, frolic, and the cheesy way.

Rising from the rubble of a mere mortal band called First and Last, this extraordinary group have captured the attention of crowds ever since last September when they rose to right the wrongs of other mediocre outfits. These do-gooders have captured the hearts and imaginations of many of our citizens.

"We mean to have fun and nobody's gonna stop us," says Oblio the supergroup's lead vocalist and astro-keyboardist. I have the rare pleasure of interviewing four of the seven at their secret hideout, but first I am blindfolded so I don't discover the exact location of their practice space.

"We don't want to come off as just another band. We want to give people something to look at," says the spicy Jordan Chicken, the group's dynamic drummer. Mr. Chicken seems studious crouched up on a couch wearing glasses, an obvious ruse for some sort of x-ray vision.

Not all superheroes are serious, and Lence "The Jester" Churn is a load of laughs. "A lot of people go to clubs and treat the band as some kind of background music," he says. "When you walk in on us, you can't miss us on stage. You better be ready when you see us because you're going on a ride." Churn wasn't originally a part of the alliance, but he would jump on stage at every Cream Team show until the band decided they might as well give him a mic -- he now sings their backup vocals.

"No matter how the Cream Team may change in the future, most of us plan to make music our life's work," says their very tall guitarist Max Maroon -- his height a definite advantage in leaping skyscrapers at a single bound.

Oblio, Jordan Chicken, and Max Maroon are metamorphosed beings from First and Last, but they were wise enough to know that they'd need reinforcements if they were going to straighten out this city. They needed more fire power, so they recruited their old friend guitarist LaChase. But if things got tough, the Team needed someone to hold the bottom-line, that's when Oblio befriended bass player Robbie Dobbie. Finally, there's Brad (obviously, not his real name). The rest of the Team are annoyed at his attempt to use a pseudonym to call attention to himself, but he is a pretty good percussionist.

To see the Cream Team do their thing on stage is a mesmerizing experience. Their kinetic super powers draw you into their pulsating spell. Before you know it, your feet will be moving and your hips will be gyrating. A big smile will creep up from ear to ear, as you fall into a happy hypnotic trance. Sure they look comical up there bouncing, jumping, and diving to every beat, but it's all part of their mission to bring good times to all.

The Cream Team create a rhythmic jazz/rock weirdness that would make the late Frank Zappa smile. Their song titles show their penchant for the absurd; "Walt Disney Whore," "The Resurrection of Miss Fish," and "The Potato Song" are too advanced for mere mortals, but this superlative seven are usually able to enlighten the crowd.

The Team plan to take the next few months off to finish their debut recording. Soon, the nation's citizens may look up at the sky and say, "Thank you, Cream Team!"

Out of the rut

Pothole are one of Wormtown's more curious musical outfits. Easily one of the more talented recording rock groups, they are almost invisible in the local club scene but will make a rare appearance at Dinny's this Saturday, May 31.

Their subtle melodies are probably wasted on the current club-going crowds that have a blood thirst for noise. But please, Gregg Levins and crew, try to get out a little more often.

I am at least thankful that they are still recording killer material. Their latest set of songs, "Linzey Collins" b/w "Kingfish" (Kong), continues to show their studio magic that was so obvious with 1995 hit "Deja Voodoo." Not as sonic as their last 45, the new disc is still a pleasurable listen.

"Linzey Collins" is mod fun to the max. This testimonial to a girl that lead singer Levins once knew is noble and heartfelt. Levins still creates uplifting compositions using minor keys with enough hooks to make it work. The rousing chorus of "A call for Linzey Collins" literally lifts this mid-tempo melody to become a glimmering piece of effortless pop. "Kingfish" isn't as catchy or pleasant. Here is an acrid and brooding poison-pen tune about a past friend of the band. The line "You're a Kingfish swimming all alone" is a put down to an ex-pal who evidently thought he was all that.