Embarking on a Mythic Psychedelic Odyssey Fueled by the Birth of Wah-Wah
Close your eyes and let your mind drift back to that incandescent summer of 1967. The air itself felt different, thick with possibility, change, and the swirling, kaleidoscopic colours of burgeoning psychedelia. Music was undergoing a seismic shift, exploring new sonic territories with an almost reckless abandon. And at the absolute vanguard of this revolution stood Cream – the volcanic power trio of Eric Clapton, Jack Bruce, and Ginger Baker – who seemed to effortlessly channel the era’s explosive creativity. It was in this fertile ground that they gifted us “Tales of Brave Ulysses”, a track that wasn’t merely a song, but a portal. First appearing as the perhaps overshadowed B-side to their hit single “Strange Brew” in June ’67, it soon found its rightful place as a cornerstone of their monumental album, Disraeli Gears, released later that year.
The genesis of “Tales of Brave Ulysses” is itself a story steeped in the creative ferment of the time. The lyrics, drenched in mythological allusion and hallucinatory imagery, sprang not from within the band, but from the pen of Australian artist Martin Sharp. Sharp, a neighbour and friend of Clapton‘s living in Chelsea’s famed artistic enclave, The Pheasantry, reportedly scribbled the verses inspired by Homer’s Odyssey – specifically the hero Ulysses’s perilous encounter with the seductive Sirens – onto a humble napkin. He passed this lyrical gem to Clapton, who was, at that very moment, experimenting with a brand-new effects pedal that would forever alter the landscape of rock guitar: the wah-wah. It was a serendipitous collision of evocative poetry and groundbreaking technology.
Can you recall the first time you heard it? That hypnotic, cyclical bassline from Jack Bruce, pulling you into its current, coupled with Ginger Baker’s intricate, almost tribal drumming. Then, Clapton’s guitar enters, not with a familiar riff, but with shimmering, voice-like swells and cries – the wah-wah pedal making one of its very first, and arguably most definitive, appearances on record. It sounds like the sea itself, swirling and mysterious, perfectly mirroring Sharp’s lyrical imagery: “You thought the leaden winter would bring you down forever / But you rode upon a steamer to the violence of the sun.” Bruce’s soaring, high-register vocals deliver the tale with a sense of both wonder and impending doom, narrating Ulysses’s journey past “tiny purple fishes,” “coral caves,” and the “naked mermaid” representing the Sirens’ fatal allure.
“Tales of Brave Ulysses” is pure sonic storytelling. It plunges the listener into a dreamscape where ancient myth meets modern electric exploration. The wah-wah effect wasn’t just a gimmick; it was integral to the song’s atmosphere, creating textures that felt liquid, exotic, and intoxicatingly dangerous, much like the Sirens’ call itself. It captured the very essence of psychedelia – the expansion of perception, the blurring of boundaries between reality and imagination, the thrill of voyaging into the unknown. For many budding guitarists hearing it then, it was a revelation, a signpost pointing towards entirely new expressive possibilities.
Listening now, across the decades from its creation in that whirlwind year of 1967, “Tales of Brave Ulysses” retains its power to transport. It’s more than just a classic track from Disraeli Gears; it’s a monument to a specific moment when rock music felt unbound, capable of fusing high art, ancient mythology, and cutting-edge technology into something utterly new and exhilarating. It’s the sound of Cream at their adventurous peak, three virtuosos pushing each other towards uncharted waters, inviting us along on a brief, unforgettable, and truly brave journey.