This album marks Wright’s arrival in the band, and *bang* just like that – they are transformed into a communal soul-hard rock tour-de-force, although a few flaws from the past still remain. But the formula for the next album’s big success is now in place – the combination of Wright and Harrison’s dueling vocal power is out in front, along with their keyboards, Grosvenor’s guitar is gruff but timely, and the rhythm section of Kellie and Ridley are a compelling anchor. Two covers are the standouts here – or rather, two re-imagined covers are the standouts – especially their drawn-out, drama-filled take on “Tobacco Road”, along with a nice read on Janis Ian’s “Society’s Child”. Meanwhile, the dark soul-psych of “Sunshine Help Me” was tabbed to become a hit, but never got there, for some reason. It is nearly all about this album, but in actuality, it was the next one that was the group's most realized achievement.

Personally, I dig this record, but even I have to admit it gives the casual listener a very small window into the rather complicated world of BOC. The original disc contains seven well-played live tracks – five moderately organic takes on originals, and two good covers – so in less than 40 minutes it feels like all bases are adequately covered. On the other hand, there is a rushed feeling to the experience as well.

This balls-to-the-wall, fear-mongering mock-up of rock and hippie counterculture from 1968 is crude, disposable, and somehow compelling. I completely agree with one IMDB reviewer who all of the characters are unlikable - I actually find them detestable, but it doesn’t stop me from watching how this crazy fantasy world peters itself out.

Great footage. I just wish there was something - narrator or whatever - to briefly chime in and give us a change of pace. By just relying on Gruen and Beck's footage I feel like something is lost in translation regarding the story of the Dolls.

The subject of the documentary was good enough to succinctly say this of the film, "Some of it is very good and some of it is very annoying." I think he sells it a bit short. Filmmaker Jay Bulger, who was a generation removed from Baker's commercial heyday, saw the early 70's Ginger Baker: In Africa documentary, and wondered if Cream's groundbreaking, extremely crazed ex-drummer was still alive. Not only was he still alive, Bulger found him on a compound with lots of Polo horses in South Africa, cantankerous as ever, and willing to talk. What transpires is essentially a straight, very lengthy interview mixed with dark-tinged, damaged-looking animation meant to match Baker's often altered physical and mental states of existence. However, what is not altered is his continous restlessness, wayward outbursts, inevitable clashes with authority, and the overwhelming sense that Ginger is both charmed and tortured to survive his constant careening from crisis to self-inflicted crisis. That, and, he might just be the greatest natural drummer of all-time.