Creed Bratton, photo by Shayan Asgharnia/illustration by Allison Aubrey
Crate Digging is our recurring feature series that takes a deep dive into music history to turn up several albums all music fans should know. In this edition, actor and musical artist Creed Bratton picks his desert island list of albums.
To talk to Creed Bratton for any length of time is to know that the man has lived an epic life: Consequence spoke with him for 40 minutes, and only scratched the surface. For, in addition to the fame he earned as one of The Office ’s most recognizable cast members, the former Grass Roots guitarist/vocalist has never stopped playing music, and is now getting ready to launch his 10th studio album, Tao Pop , this month. (He’s already working on the next one.)
“I made my living through college playing music professionally, from 17 years of age on,” Bratton tells Consequence . “And then I was in Europe after college for two years, surviving on making music. And then I was in The Grass Roots. We had a couple of gold records, and that was great. And then I struggled for a long time, but I kept writing the songs. I’ve never really thought about my career in a ‘Where’s my goal’ way? Maybe I should have. All it was is, is that songs came to me and I enjoyed the process.”
When asked if more people are surprised by the fact that he’s a musician or that he’s an actor, he says that “I think, when they meet me, they’re either relieved or disappointed that I’m not that character that I played.” But at his concerts, he says that while he knows people initially come to see him because of The Office , “now they tell me that they’ve heard the songs and they’re moved by them. They’re enjoying my music. And that means so much. That’s why I do this.”
Bratton remains interested in acting, which was his major in college — though while his first role was in 1965, he says “I still haven’t made that big, big jump yet, even with The Office . People think of me as that deranged comical guy, but I obviously can do a lot more. I’m a pretty good bad guy — I did a Blumhouse TV film [2019’s Into the Dark: Culture Shock ], and I was pretty intimidating if I do say so myself. And the reviews were ‘He’s scary?'” He laughs. “Folks, you take enough drugs and listen to whales, you’ll get scary too.”
He’s not kidding about the whales. Below, find Bratton’s list of desert island albums, representing a wide range of genres and interests — and a life full of stories.
Various — Musique Du Burundi
It was in the ’70s. I had it on vinyl, and for some reason it made me very happy. I had just left The Grass Roots and I didn’t have happiness. I was married, and had a little baby girl, and that was happy. But I had just left the group and didn’t know what I was going to do. And that music just put me in such a great place. So I’d listen to that.
Miles Davis — Kind of Blue
A go-to album. There’s no getting away from it. And nothing that I’ve heard in decades comes close to Miles and Coltrane and Gil Evans, doing what the magic that they did at that time. I’m at a loss for words. I think it’s like seeing a piece of art. You can talk all you want. It makes you feel a certain way. Music makes me feel a certain way. All I can say is that it is correct for my sensibilities.
First time I heard Rubber Soul , I am in 1965. I’m in London, staying with a girlfriend that I met in the caves of Gibraltar — one of the Denizens of the Deep, and the Free Love Movement was going on over there. So it was great. So anyway, I don’t know if her parents were that thrilled, but I had nothing, and they were letting me stay there. Her dad got Rubber Soul , and I ended up down in the cellar where I was staying with that album. And I played it down ’til he finally said, “I need my album back. Hazel, tell that guy down there to give me my album back, please.”
But I couldn’t. Now rock and roll was not just escapism, it was meaningful. It was The Grapes of Wrath . It was literature. It was profound. And the same way with Revolver , but Rubber Soul did it first. Revolver was the more psychedelic continuation.
Another African musician — he’s got that incredible instrument, and he just gets in there and grooves on this thing. There’s one song… [ Proceeds to scat a bit ] …then they’re bopping. And it just kind of floats — there’s a scattering, and then all of a sudden, the bass drops, and they’re in, and they just fall in. And it’s just like, whoa. I’d like to hear a rock band do that. It’s not complicated stuff, but it’s hypnotic. It takes you to a place that’s primal.
Now this is when I would drop acid or take mescaline or psilocybin and and sit on my floor in Malibu. I had this amazing sound system — I had a Dual turntable. I had Bose speakers. The old Bose speakers, they weighed about 45 pounds, and I strung ’em with chains up on the wall. That’s all I spent my money on. I slept on the floor in sheets. But my sound system sounded great. And oh God. I was just listening to them — Sadie the Whale, I knew her voice. I’d go, “Ah, Sadie’s in good voice today.” So, good for those whales. I love that stuff.
Particularly “I Have No Time,” “Angie,” and — a little too close to home — “Needle of Death.” He played an open tuning — he had a funky guitar, and it was kind of out of tune. He [recorded] it on probably just a little cassette thing on a somebody’s table at somebody’s house, you know? And yet, wow, wow.
I was lucky enough later, my family was traveling in 1972. And we’d become friends with Jacqui McShee from Pentangle, the English band — Bert was playing in Pentangle and we stayed in England at their house. And when they were rehearsing, I was able to sit right there and watch Bert and John Renbourn play.
It’s pretty great. Since I was little and I heard Mozart… You can take your Bachs and your Beethovens. But Mozart is my guy. He’ll calm me down, and put the big cosmic picture together.
[ When asked to pick his go-to Mozart, he first says “maybe Requiem”… then pulls back. “I can’t say one. That’s not fair to me.” ]
First time I heard Stevie Winwood’s Arc of a Diver , I think it was in the ’70s. It had to be in the ’70s or maybe the ’80s. I’m not sure when it was. He did that thing all himself. There was a synthesizer tone that I had not heard that before the synthesizer. I’m used to guitars and we have Rhodes pianos and acoustic instruments, but here’s this artificial instrument, churning my guts in a real creamy, vanilla way. And it was just, oh man, what he did with the synthesizers on Arc — and of course, his voice. It’s like little English Ray Charles singing, man. It’s so good.
My second wife and I were, I was recording her in Montecito, California, and that’s all we listened to, was that record. And I kept thinking, how in the hell did these two English men get together with these Yanks and make this synergy? What black magic thing is going on here? Cocaine. Cocaine and infidelity. But what beautiful music, huh? Those songs and the groove, like what a rhythm section. And Lindsay Buckingham, the guitar player’s guitar player, my God. I think I do okay on an acoustic now, but then all I have to do to get humble is to watch him play. They hated each other — there was all this stuff going on, and yet that great art came out of that.
I was sitting around one day, I was cooking dinner, and the song “Satellite” by Guster came on Apple Shuffle. It’s nothing complicated. It’s a simple little pop song. But I just kept going back to it, and I still go back to that song once in a while. Its simplicity, its innocence. It’s a good pop song, you know? I’d be very proud to put something out that like that. I really love that. Same thing with the song called “Allison Road” by Gin Blossoms. I feel the same way about that. It’s basic, it’s nothing complicated. It’s just good, intrinsically honest pop music.
Magic, no lyrics, just music. It’s not jazz, it’s not pop. It’s Pat Metheny. Brilliance. Brilliance. I’m not sure if Jaco Pastorius is playing on that or not, but I know later Jaco and Lyle Mays and Pat Metheny played with Joni Mitchell when she couldn’t play for a long time — she couldn’t go out and tour because she just had way too many tunings for her guitar. So this one guitar, maybe it was Roland or something like that, would change the tunings for you with a hit of a button, electronically. So she was able to go out and play her songs. Anyway, so, I’m digressing. Pat Metheny is the force behind that. Right.
Let’s put Joni on the list, for God’s sakes. Blue is pretty, pretty hard not to put on there. I was there in the ’60s, and that was going on in the Canyon, and I was really impressed with her, you know, her open tunings and her voice. She’s a genius, no way around it. No idea where that comes from.
Get updates delivered to you daily. Free and customizable.
It’s essential to note our commitment to transparency:
Our Terms of Use acknowledge that our services may not always be error-free, and our Community Standards emphasize our discretion in enforcing policies. As a platform hosting over 100,000 pieces of content published daily, we cannot pre-vet content, but we strive to foster a dynamic environment for free expression and robust discourse through safety guardrails of human and AI moderation.
Comments / 0