I was out of town last week when the news hit that Jack Bruce had died. A few observations:

-- In 1966, my pal Lon Burke – a few years older and always aware of the latest musical developments – showed me a new album he’d just bought called Fresh Cream. He started laughing and said, “Listen to this.”

Lon put the record on the turntable and queued up the first track. The song was Bruce’s “I Feel Free,” with that now-immortal three-part a cappella intro. Dude # 1 – drummer Ginger Baker – repeats “Bop-ba-ba-ba-bop-ba.” Dude 2 – Eric Clapton – waits for the spaces between and simply chants “I feel free.” And then Dude #3 – His Bruce-ness – soars over both with that wordless melody line – something someone (really talented) might come up with in the shower – before the band kicks into a driving, haunting tune unlike anything I’ve ever heard.

My head exploded like a jack-o’-lantern.

I don’t think I ever thought about music the same way after hearing “I Feel Free.”

-- By now it’s pretty well established that Bruce was the main singer and songwriter (along with lyricist Pete Brown) for Cream, and it always pissed me off in a huge way that Eric Clapton got the lion’s share of the press and attention. I’m not shortchanging Clapton’s talent; I just don’t believe Bruce got his critical due.

-- For all of Bruce’s considerable genius and long and fruitful and creatively diverse career, it’s true I associate him almost exclusively with Cream. I do not think that’s his fault.

-- The closest I’ve ever come to missing a deadline was Jack Bruce’s fault. He came through our area in 1999 with the fifth calibration of Ringo Starr’s All-Star Band for a concert at Mohegan Sub – and, boy, that was a fine example of truth in advertising. Along with Bruce, members included Todd Rundgren, Procol Harum’s Gary Brooker and Bad Company’s Simon Kirke. That's a mini-constellation of stars.

In addition to Ringo material, the Starr Band set lists traditionally feature songs by each member presented in roundabout fashion. Brooker played, for example, “A Whiter Shade of Pale” and “Conquistador,” while Rundgren did “I Saw the Light” and “Hammer in My Heart.” Tremendous.

It was Bruce I was watching, though. I tragically never saw Cream and was desperate almost beyond description to see him sing “I Feel Free” and “White Room.” They predictably trotted out Cream’s “Sunshine of Your Love” early on – which was cool although it was never one of my favorite of Jack’s canon – but time was hauling ass and it was getting close to when I’d have to leave to get back to The Day newsroom to write a review of the show for the next day’s edition. “C’mon, Jack!” I'd mutter. Or: “Hey, Ringo! Stink off! Nobody cares about that moronic ‘Back Off Boogaloo’!”

Finally, they launched into “I Feel Free” and it was just magnificent. BUT … “Jack, dammit, I’ve gotta GO!" Rundgren was stretching “Bang the Drum All Day” waaaay beyond its two-chord necessity. Then, just as I was about to try to borrow Sun exec Mitchell Etess’ helicopter so as to buy myself a few more minutes, they launched into “White Room.” My God! It was like the roaring of Gods!

And now ... it can finally be disclosed to the fine state police holding down the fort at Troop E in Montville: that white-hot flash tearing down 395 that night, at speeds far beyond the ability of mortal patrol cars to overcome? It was Little Ricky racing back to the newsroom to file my review. When I got back to The Day, I think I had, I dunno, maybe four minutes to write the entire thing. But the important thing is that I heard “White Room” and “I Feel Free” from the golden throat of Jack Bruce – and my life is better for it.

-- Yes: in my younger, stronger days, I learned Bruce’s bass lines to “Crossroads” pretty much note for note – just to see if I could. There are many more intricate and difficult parts out there, but for a clod like myself … well, I was pretty pleased. When the news hit that Bruce had passed, just out of curiosity and nostalgia, I picked up my bass to see just how much of “Crossroads” I could remember. Acting independently of my brain, my left hand immediately cramped in vicious fashion – as though to say, “Don’t even THINK about it, moron!”

 -- On a very tangentially related note, my pal and colleague Milton Moore points out that San Francisco Giants right fielder Hunter Pence bears an eerie resemblance to early photos of Cream drummer Ginger Baker. That aside, it's worth reminding folks that the Bruce/Baker rhythm section was as powerful and innovative as it gets.

-- Thanks so much for the greatness, Jack. You were a pioneer and a giant. My heart drowns ...