Ginger Baker’s grouchy endgame

Ginger Baker is ending his life in anger and in exile, says Jay Bulger in Rolling Stone. At 69, the famed drummer for Cream has a degenerative spinal disease and emphysema, for which he takes a daily handful of antidepressants, stomach pills, and painkillers. An irritable cuss even in his prime, Baker now can barely contain his rage, routinely cursing at the TV screen, at the rising sun, and at anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path. “What are you looking at, Yankee?” he’ll shriek at a visitor. “I bet you expect me to play for you now! F---ing Americans!” After having fled homes in England, Italy, Nigeria, and the U.S. because of tax problems and other offenses, since 1999 Baker has lived in South Africa, where he’s managed to anger both local black farmers and an all-white polo club. When a white militia offered him protection, Baker refused. “They said I needed them to protect me from ‘the black devils.’ I told them, ‘F--k off!’” Since then, unknown assailants have killed his dog and crippled one of his 39 polo ponies. So now he totes a stun gun. “It’s a people zapper!” he says, pulling it out. “It’s for people who try to assassinate me.” Not that he’s afraid to die. “Death is the final great adventure! When I die, put me in a lead coffin and throw me out to sea!”

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