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Combining the talents of former Cream
members Eric Clapton and Ginger Baker, The Spencer Davis Group's Stevie
Winwood and Family guitarist Ric Grech, the short lived Blind Faith
stood as one of the first corporate 'super groups'. Ironically, in
spite of it's talented lineup, the quartet survived less than a year,
during that brief period completing a world tour and one critical
praised studio collection prior to their dissolution.
Having debuted before a crowd of 100,000 fans with a free concert in
London's Hyde Park (filmed but never released), the group was quickly
signed to Atlantic's ATCO subsidiary. Teamed with producer Jimmy Miller,
their self-titled debut was remarkable for its understatement. While
"Blind Faith" had
more than it's share of highlights, including Clapton's version of
"In the Presence of the Lord" and Winwood's extended "Had
To Cry Today", elsewhere the set was less consistent, ranging from
merely pleasant (a cover of Buddy Holly's "Well All Right") to
pointless (Baker's 15 minute plus "Do What You Like"). While
the performances were thoroughly professional (Winwood was particularly
impressive), the four principles frequently sounded tense and
uncomfortable in their surroundings. Inevitably the album attracted
immense media attention, eventually topping the American charts.
ATCO's art and marketing departments deserved special praise with regard
to their keen insight into American sensitivities. Bob Seidemann's
cover photo featured a sweet and innocent looking 11 year old British girl.
Unfortunately, the maturing young girl was topless and shown in a subtle
pose holding a metallic object baring more than a passing resemblance to
something of a phallic nature. To ATCO's horror, the photo provoked a
major controversy in the States. All sorts of bizarre rumors began to
fly, including a story the girl was Baker's illegitimate daughter (Baker
would have had to have been a father in his early teens). Another story
had the girl as a groupie that had been enslaved by the band.
The actual story was far less interesting. Best know for his work
showcasing The Grateful Dead, Janis Joplin (whom he reportedly had a
brief relationship with) and other San Francisco bands, 1969 found
photographer Seidemann living and working in London. Friendly with
Clapton, Seidemann had been commissioned to develop a cover for the
forthcoming album.
In the mid-1990s, in an ad to sell
autographed copies of the original lithography, a rather pompous (or
naive) Seidemann discussed the cover:
"I could not get my hands on the image
until out of the mist a concept began to emerge. To symbolize the
achievement of human creativity and its expression through technology a
space ship was the material object. To carry this new spore into the
universe innocence would be the ideal bearer, a young girl, a girl as
young as Shakespeare's Juliet. The space ship would be the fruit of the
tree of knowledge and the girl, the fruit of the tree of life.
The space ship could be made by Mick Milligan, a jeweler at the Royal
College of Art. The girl was another matter. If she were too old it
would be cheesecake, too young and it would be nothing. It was the
beginning of the transition from girl to woman, that is what I was after.
That temporal point, that singular flare of radiant innocence. Where is
that girl?
I was riding the London Tube [subway] on the way to [Blind Faith manager
Robert ] Stigwood's office to expose Clapton's management to this
revelation when the subway doors opened and she stepped into the car.
She was wearing a school uniform, plaid skirt, blue blazer, white socks
and ball point pen drawings on her hands. It was as though the air began
to crackle with an electrostatic charge. She was buoyant and fresh as
the morning air.
I must have looked like something out of Dickens. Somewhere between
Fagan, Quasimodo, Albert Einstein and John the Baptist. The car was full
of passengers. I approached her and said that I would like her to pose
for a record cover for Eric Clapton's new band. Everyone in the car
tensed up.
She said, "Do I have to take off my clothes?" My answer was
yes. I gave her my card and begged her to call. I would have to ask her
parent's consent if she agreed. When I got to Stigwood's office I called
the flat and said that if this girl called not to let her off the phone
without getting her phone number. When I returned she had called and
left her number.
Stanley Mouse (Miller), my close friend and one of the five originators
of psychedelic art in San Francisco was holed up at the flat. He helped
me make a layout and we headed out to meet with the girl's parents. It
was a Mayfair address. This was a swank part of town, class in the
English sense of the word. Mouse and I made our presentation, I told my
story, the parents agreed. The girl on the tube train would not be the
one, she was shy, she had just passed the point of complete innocence
and could not pose. Her younger sister had been saying the whole
time, "Oh Mommy, Mommy, I want to do it, I want to do it." She
was glorious sunshine. Botticelli's angel, the picture of innocence, a
face which in a brief time could launch a thousand space ships.
We asked her what her fee should be for modeling, she said a young
horse. Stigwood bought one for her. I called the image "Blind
Faith" and Clapton made that the name of the band. When the cover
was shown in the trades it hit the market like a runaway train, causing
a storm of controversy. At one point the record company considered not
releasing the cover at all. It was Eric Clapton who fought for it. It
was Eric who elected to not print the name of the band on the cover.
This had never been done before. The name was printed on the wrapper,
when the wrapper came off, so did the type.
This was an image created out of ferment and storm, out of revolution
and chaos. It was an image in the mind of one who strove for that moment
of glory, that blinding flash of singular inspiration. To etch an image
on a stone in our cultural wall with the hope that the wall will last.
To say with his heart and his eyes, at a time when it mattered, this is what
I feel. It was created out of and a wish for a new beginning. It was
created out of hope and a wish for a new beginning. Innocence propelled
by BLIND FAITH."
More than willing to drop artistic freedom in favor of protecting
American sensitivities (marketing clearly didn't play a role in their
decision),
ATCO executives quickly reissued the set with a more sedate black and
white photo of the band standing amidst concert equipment. As for the
band, having slogged their way through a brief Scandinavian tour and an
eight week, 24 date American tour (marred by a series of nasty
confrontations between fans and local police - Baker was nearly knocked
unconscious when fans stormed the stage during one of their Madison
Square performances), tired and frustrated with the media hype, the four
principles subsequently elected to throw in the towel, going their
separate ways at the end of the year.
A sign of changing times and tastes, in 1972 RSO Records reissued the
album with the original cover art. Nobody blinked. The collection promptly reentered
the Billboard charts at # 126.
Seidemann's
still active and has an engaging website at:
http://www.bobseidemann.com/
If you've got
an extra $2,100 you can buy a limited edition copy of the print:
http://www.bobseidemann.com/blind_faith_print.html
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