1. Blind Faith Performs For Spirited Audience: LA Times August 19, 1969

    Musically the Faith was extraordinary. With Steve Winwood belting in a marvelously soulful way and playing both organ and a finger-picked rhythm guitar that brilliantly complemented Eric Clapton's articulate lead, drummer Ginger Baker driving the group with an endless assortment of rhythms and counter-rhythms and Rick Grech anchoring the whole affair with his assertive bass, they succeeded in projecting an excitement....

  2. Blind Faith: Madison Square Garden, July 14, 1969 Review

    Blind Faith, the British rock group succeeding Cream, which became very popular in the last few years, played an impressive opening Saturday at Madison Square Garden. 

    Blind Faith presents Eric Clapton on guitar, Ginger Baker on drums, Steve Winwood, guitar and keyboards, and Rick Grech, bass and electric violin. 

  3. Traffic: The History
    May 4, 1969

    Traffic: The History

    This multi-talented West Midlands group gained international success in the late 1960s and early 1970s, particularly in the USA where as a three piece they attracted a huge following. In Britain, they are remembered mostly for some memorable and ground-breaking singles and albums that scored high chart placings.

    Traffic was formed when Steve Winwood, who was the focal point of the Spencer Davis Group decided to move beyond the restrictions of the group and form a band with three other Birmingham area musicians. Jim Capaldi had formed his first band at the age of fourteen and was soon recording for Pye records with the Hellions. Shortly thereafter, he was gathering rave reviews in a band called Deep Feeling which he shared with fellow Traffic founder Dave Mason & Family founding member Poli Palmer. The band played rock & blues and locally were in a league of their own.

  4. "Who Knows What Tomorrow May Bring?" Rolling Stone, May 3, 1969


    The cottage is an hour and a half from London. But it's a thousand light years from Soho Square. Henley is like driving through a postcard, and then you pass through dozens of little English hamlets with names as heavy as a slice of farmhouse bread; Nettlebed, Wallingford, Uffington, Didcot.

    When we get to Aston Tirrold, we stop in at the pub to ask directions to the cottage. The owners are a friendly, florid old couple, who invite us in while the husband phones the cottage to see if we are permitted to go up.

    We cross the main road just outside tiny Aston-Tirrold and dip down into the dirt track that leads to the cottage. There are really deep ruts in the road, and when it rains, it is impossible to take the upper road at all. Everyone who drives up for the first time stops here. Can this really be the road? Jim Capaldi had mentioned the white farm gate giving us directions to get up here. You are reassured when you see it, it's the right road, everything is cool. Bristling hedges, moldly wooden fences; behind a clump of bushes there are some white wooden beehives, and, on the other side, vast fields recede endlessly into space. Weird, impossible perspectives curl around the horizon; covered hills interrupt infinity.