.JPG){kind=icon}
Consummate blues, born out of the pain of unfulfilled love."Have you ever loved a woman, so much you're tremblin' in pain, and all the time you know she bears another man's name – but you just love that woman so much, it's a shame and a sin ... and all the time you know she belongs to your very best friend!" If you'd never heard this album's title track, you would swear that "Have You Ever Loved A Woman" was the song that Eric Clapton wrote for Pattie Boyd Harrison; not only do the lyrics of Billy Myles' blues classic fit so perfectly, Clapton positively pours his heart out as he sings them, and his guitar screams with the pain of unrequited love. And even before get to this song, Clapton's own "Bell Bottom Blues" lays bare similar feelings and recalls his infamous heroin ultimatum to Pattie ("Either you come with me or I'll take that"): "Do you wanna see me crawl across the floor to you? Do you wanna hear me beg you to take me back?" And as the man pleads with her, so does his guitar, and you wonder what woman could possibly have resisted such an impassioned plea.
Until of course, almost at the end of the album, you hear "Layla," this record's motto more than a simple title track and, in many respects, its reason for being. Torn by personal insecurity, Clapton used the cover and seeming anonymity of yet another band, and the parable of a medieval Persian love story ("Layla and Majnun" – reportedly, "majnun," in Persian, means madman) to put into music what he couldn't put into words alone. From its opening riff to its last note the song is pure blues, Clapton audibly on the brink of the madness he sings about, and his guitar wailing, moaning and crying out all that was in his heart: "Layla ... you got me on my knees – Layla ... I'm begging darling, please – Layla ... won't you ease my worry now?" Sparks must have been flying in the studio while Eric Clapton and Duane Allman, recruited by manager Tom Dowd to add inspiration and take some of the lead guitar weight off Clapton's shoulders, drove each other to ever greater heights, simultaneously feeding off and to each other. Like most of the album, "Layla" was recorded live in the studio, and only a live recording could transmit this feverish outbreak of passion. Merely listening to the song is emotionally exhausting, and you can only imagine what must have gone on in the studio and inside Clapton during its recording. To hear the Allman Brothers' drummer Butch Trucks tell the story (in an interview for "Off the Record"), Duane Allman gave "Layla" its finishing touch when he added the five notes immediately following its signature riff. Yet, Allman is not credited as a writer (if that story is true, though, how much more than those five notes would it have taken I wonder?); only drummer Jim Gordon is, for having written the song's piano closing – which he had to be persuaded to allow to be used.
And while Eric Clapton continued to perform the song unaltered for years after its initial recording, he spontaneously decided to include it in the setlist of his MTV "Unplugged" appearance where, deprived of all its riffs, even its signature beginning toned down to a few simple notes, and Clapton's voice unexpectedly reflective, Layla assumed a different personality although not a word of the lyrics was altered. Yet, just as Eric Clapton's and Pattie Boyd's marriage was over by then, Layla was now less an object of burning desire than somebody the singer thought about – thought back to maybe, or sought a conversation with, possibly cautioning her about the consequences of her actions, or recalling his experiences with her: "What will you do when you get lonely, no one waiting by your side? You've been running, hiding much too long – you know it's just your foolish pride ..." And although Clapton has gone back to performing the song in its "plugged in" version during his recent tour in promotion of "Reptile," he has confined himself to talking only about its musical values, commenting on the technical difficulties of playing riffs and chords that are virtually opposite to what you are singing in an interview for the "Reptile" tour's official program.
Besides Eric Clapton and late addition Duane Allman, Derek And The Dominos consisted of the musicians "left over" by the breakup of Delaney and Bonnie, with whom Clapton had briefly found shelter after yet another supergroup of his (Blind Faith) had disintegrated way too quickly: Bobby Whitlock, Carl Radle and Jim Gordon. Like virtually all of Eric Clapton's albums, solo as well as with his various bands, this record combines material written by Clapton himself and covers of songs he liked; and of course, there is much more to it than "Layla," "Have You Ever Loved A Woman" and "Bell Bottom Blues." As always, Clapton makes his mark with every song alike, and as always, he needs and has found (or Tom Dowd found for him) a cast of outstanding musicians to work with. Segar/Bronzy's "Key to the Highway" becomes an extended blues jam session as there ever was one, and Jimmie Cox's "Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out" forecasts the feelings which, among other things, later compelled Clapton to establish the Crossroads foundation.
Eric Clapton has said about Derek And The Dominos in the interview for the "Reptile" tour program: "[That] was a band I really liked – and it's almost like I wasn't in that band. It's just a band that I'm a fan of. Sometimes, my own music can be like that. When it's served its purpose to being good music, I don't associate myself with it any more. It's like someone else. It's easy to do those songs then." Hearing the raging pain of "Layla"'s original recording, you wonder whether this is maybe also the only way for him to do it now ... at least "plugged in."
A historic live appearance ... Imagine you're Pete Townshend, circa 1972, early 1973. You have this friend who's not just a terrific guy but also happens to be one of the greatest guitar players ever (short of yourself and a select list of few others). In fact, the man is so great they started to compare him to God very shortly after he had emerged onto the scene; and he even managed to convince you that white boys CAN play the blues ... even if they are from England – something you hadn't even bought coming from the original Bluesbreaker Peter Mayall. Unfortunately, the man is sinking into the abyss called heroin addiction, and there doesn't seem to be anything anybody can do about it. His live-in girlfriend Alice (on the downward slide with him) has called you repeatedly in the middle of the night, and you have made the long trip to their house only to witness junkie scenes which you will later be quoted describing, in the man's authorized biography by Ray Coleman ("Clapton!") as "despicable." You start wrecking your brain what to do about the situation. You know, of course, that only the junkie himself will ultimately be able to pull himself out of the abyss; but encouragement from people close to him is crucial – as crucial as a deeper motivation to make the struggle worthwhile.
In your friend's case, it seems obvious that his love of music has to be the thing that should restore his will to go on living. The problem is, except for an appearance at George Harrison's Concert for Bangladesh, ca. 1 1/2 years earlier, the man hasn't appeared on stage, nor has he seen the inside of a recording studio. Before embarking on his slide into addiction, he has been part of a number of true supergroups; but everyone of them has disintegrated over time, many say before they had really had a chance to take off. So what are you going to do? – Eventually you convince a group of top-notch musicians to help you out once you get the guy to agree to appear on stage again, for two shows at London's Rainbow Theatre: Besides Ron Wood of the Jeff Beck Group and J.J. Cale's drummer/buddy Jimmy Karstein, Steve Winwood and Rick Grech agree to lend a hand, forgetting for a moment the short life of their own band with your friend, Blind Faith; and you also get the ok. from two other guys from Winwood's and Grech's more consistent band, Traffic – Jim Capaldi and Rebop Kwaku Baah. Although you guys will be presented as the "Palpitations," nobody is going to make the mistake to bill you as yet another supergroup for more purposes than those two shows. You don't have a lot of time to rehearse, and during the show you will find yourself joking that "none of that seems worth it now" because you "keep forgetting things." But during rehearsal already, it turns out to be your friend who keeps telling people that everything is going to be just fine, and when they are concerned they might not remember the chords to any given song he responds, "Oh don't worry. It's easy, you know. They're simple songs!"
Although absence from the stage and drug abuse had taken their toll, when listening to the recording of what has come to be known as Eric Clapton's "Rainbow Concert" it becomes clear just how much these two live appearances helped to reenergize him. The album, greatly improved in its remastered CD version (both in its sound quality and by its enhancement to more than twice the original number of tracks) opens with the first recorded live version of "Layla" – not quite as painfully torn as the original studio recording, but very powerful and gaining special impact by being played by no less than three outstanding guitarists. From there, it's a tour de force through some of the best song material existing at the time, most of it concert staples of Clapton's to this day. His voice and guitar play are rough, edgy – maybe a tad restrained by his standards, but still on a level other musicians would kill for if they could achieve it. In addition to songs from Clapton's own albums (with his various bands and from his self-titled and, at the time, only solo release; covers such as J.J. Cale's "After Midnight" and songs written by Clapton himself: "Badge," "Blues Power," "Bell Bottom Blues" and more), the band also gives a very soulful rendition of Jimi Hendrix's "Little Wing," Steve Winwood steps back as lead vocalist in Eric Clapton's favor for Blind Faith's "Presence of the Lord" and Traffic's "Pearly Queen," and "Key to the Highway" becomes almost the blues jam session it has been during the recording sessions for the "Layla" album (now available on the remastered version of that album and first released as part of the 1988 "Crossroads" box set).
Throughout the recording, the genuine camaraderie of the eight musicians is obvious; evidenced by Townshend's introduction of the band (purposely neglecting to mention Eric Clapton at first and then, having been "reminded" by Clapton's persistent fiddling about on his guitar, adding, "Oh yeah ... and Eric Clapton on third rhythm guitar!") and by a number of other jokes. At the end of the show, Clapton asked the audience in a moved voice to thank Pete Townshend "because I wouldn't have done it if it hadn't been for him." And although his struggle out of addiction had only begun and it would take him over another year to record what would become his breakthrough solo album ("461 Ocean Boulevard"), the two nights at London's Rainbow Theatre stand as the beginning of that process, and Eric Clapton's return to the stage. The rest, as they say, is history ...
Barenaked blues.The debate whether, when learning to play the guitar, you should begin with an acoustic or an electric instrument, is probably as old as the history of the electric guitar itself; regardless which event you associate most strongly with its invention, and which of the enterprising souls who began experimenting with the amplification of the six-string sound way back in the 1930s you most credit therewith. Many find the sound of an electric guitar more impressive than that of an acoustic; and I'll freely admit that few pieces of music make my inner membranes resonate as instinctively as those featuring a really well-played e-guitar solo. Purists, however, argue passionately in favor of the acoustic guitar, and maintain that you're simply not going to learn to play "cleanly" if you don't start out that way. And there is definitely something to be said for that, because it is much easier to conceal a sloppily-played chord behind an electric guitar's amplified volume or a clever-sounding solo (or behind both) than in the unadulterated sound of an acoustic guitar. The discussion about the early 1990s' trend towards "unplugged" recordings centers around similar arguments. Some pieces of music are of course simply not meant to ever be played on an acoustic guitar. Others, however, live from their amplified soundeffects more than from their intrinsic musical values, and they simply fizzle when reduced to their core and performed acoustically.
And then there is that rare category of pieces which sound equally fantastic both ways, and that rare category of players who manage to dazzle you regardless what type of instrument they're playing. Eric Clapton is such a musician, and some of the songs on the playlist of his "Unplugged" album are such pieces of music. Most notable among those, of course, is "Layla," Clapton's intensely personal dedication to one-time wife Patty Boyd; written in 1970 and at a time when he saw no chance of ever winning her for himself. From the memorable opening riff of the song's original recording to its guitar solos, screaming with despair, it is extremely hard to imagine how this song could ever work in an acoustic version. Yet on a whim and at the last minute, Clapton decided to include it in the "Unplugged" playlist. And transposed by a full octave, reduced to a languid and almost upbeat, somewhat jazzy blues rhythm, it works out wonderfully; and Layla/ Patty finds herself miraculously transformed from an object of desire to one of reflection instead. In fact, that track alone, which won the 1992 Grammy as Best Rock Song, turned out to be responsible for a good share of the enormous popularity of this album which (together with 1989's "Journeyman") reestablished Clapton as an artist to reckon with, after his career had threatened to slump over the course of much of the previous decade. And similarly responsible for the success of "Unplugged" was the inclusion of another and more recent piece performed from the bottom of Clapton's soul, the triple Grammy winning "Tears in Heaven;" dedicated to his son Conor who had tragically died after falling from the open window of a 53rd floor apartment in New York City the preceding year. (The studio version of that song is contained on the soundtrack of the movie "Rush," likewise released in 1992.)
But "Unplugged" is to large extents a classic blues album, from the twelve-bar rhythm of Bo Diddley's "Before You Accuse Me" (featuring only Eric Clapton himself and one of the most modest and supremely talented living guitarists, Clapton's trusted friend and touring partner Andy Fairweather Low) to Jimmy Cox's "Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out" (the second cut besides "Layla" from the famous album recorded under the name Derek and the Dominos), Delta Blues king Robert Johnson's "Walkin' Blues" and "Malted Milk," Jesse Fuller's upbeat "San Francisco Bay Blues," and the traditionals "Alberta" and "Rollin' and Tumblin'" (the latter, here attributed to the great Chess blues man M[cKinley] Morganfield a/k/a Muddy Waters, who made it famous). Three more of Eric Clapton's own compositions stand out among the songs which round up the album's playlist: the introductory lighthearted "Signe," which reflects his love of Brazilian music, the melancholic "Lonely Stranger" and finally "Old Love," a cut from 1989's "Journeyman."
Few white artists understand as well as Eric Clapton that the blues thrives, first and foremost, on a live atmosphere – preferably in a smaller setting like the one used for this recording, which allows for plenty of spontaneous interaction between stage and audience. And few artists are as unafraid of the gaffes that are almost invariably associated with a live appearance, even in the case of Clapton and his outstanding backup band; and manage, time and again, to turn them into a light moment. The garbled beginning of "Alberta" is an excellent example here; you can almost hear Clapton grinning when he says "Hang on, hang on, hang on" and simply starts over. Similarly, "Layla" is merely introduced with the words "See if you can spot this one" – and instantly greeted with the enthusiastic cheers of an audience which doesn't even need to hear the famous five notes of the song's introductory riff to recognize it.
Asked whether he, too, would ever consider an "unplugged" appearance, e-guitar legend Jeff Beck, who with Eric Clapton and Led Zeppelin's Jimmy Page forms the trinity of "guitar gods" that emerged from Great Britain's famous Yardbirds, reportedly once responded that he couldn't imagine such a thing because it would make him feel "naked." And listening to Eric Clapton's "Unplugged" album, you can't shake the impression that Beck does have a point. These are pure, naked blues songs, supremely performed – and a pure joy to listen to.
About retracing one's steps, one blue note at a time."All along this path I tread, my heart betrays my weary head; with nothing but my love to save, from the cradle to the grave ..." Summing up his thoughts on a recently failed relationship, Eric Clapton jotted down these words one night in early 1994, and they eventually made their way into the cover booklet of the album he released later that same year, the last line also providing the album's title. And "there's anger and love and fear on this record," Clapton told Billboard Magazine about the self-evaluation he was undergoing at the time, explaining that in recording this album, he had sought to once and for all break the – partially self-imposed – barriers and trappings of fame and fortune, girls and glamour, drugs and booze, in order to just "get out and ... say what I want to say, be what I want to be [and] love what I want to love."
What he had loved from his earliest years on, of course, was the blues; and a real blues album was thus what he had always wanted to record – ever since his days with the Yardbirds (which he left when they strayed towards more mainstream, commercial sounds) and with John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers, the training ground for much of Britain's blues elite of the 1960s and 1970s. So in a major way, this album constitutes a return to Eric Clapton's roots.
At the same time, however, it is a marvelous tribute to the artists on whose influence Clapton builds to this day, and who first made the songs recorded here famous. Like any good blues album, "From the Cradle" was recorded live in the studio: with the exception of some dobro and drum overdub on "How Long Blues" and "Motherless Child" respectively, all vocals and instrumental parts are the pure, unadulterated product of the recording sessions involved. With or without extended solos, Clapton's guitar work is stellar as always, and his vocals are as raw and rough as hardly ever before. He may not actually outgrowl the great Chess and Delta Blues men – listen to his 2001 album "Riding With the King" with B.B. King or to Muddy Waters's 1977 version of "Hoochie Coochie Man" if you have any doubts – but this truly becomes apparent only in direct comparison with them, and it really says more about those other musicians than it does about Clapton himself. If it were not for the fact that many of the recordings on this album have long become classics in their own right and that Clapton's voice is not easily confused with that of any other artist in the first place, I'm almost certain that you could fool a fair number of people into believing that they were listening to an album recorded 40 years or even longer ago in Chicago or Memphis. This is the real thing, folks, no question about it; and it is performed with as much skill as soul by Eric Clapton and a tremendous group of musicians consisting of Dave Bronze (bass), Jim Keltner (drums), Andy Fairweather Low (guitar), Jerry Portnoy (harmonica), Chris Stainton (keyboards), Roddy Lorimer (trumpet) and Simon Clarke and Tim Sanders (saxophone) – many of the well-known to Clapton’s live audiences the world over as well.
In selecting the songs for this album, Eric Clapton purposely chose the most intense blues songs he could think of, not even shying away from classics that he had heretofore considered "untouchable," like Muddy Waters's (or actually, Willie Dixon's) aforementioned "Hoochie Coochie Man." And in a not entirely surprising turn, they – and "Hoochie Coochie Man" in particular – soon became fixtures in his own live appearances as much as they had been fixtures in the appearances of the artists who had first made them famous, from Leroy Carr's "Blues Before Sunrise" and "How Long Blues" to Lowell Fulson's "Reconsider Baby" and "Sinner's Prayer," Eddie Boyd's "Five Long Years," James Lane's "Goin' Away Baby" and "Blues Leave Me Alone," Elmore James's "It Hurts Me Too," Freddie King's "Someday After a While," another famous Muddy Waters tune, "Standin' Round Crying," and the concluding, aptly titled "Groaning the Blues." And all colors of this blues kaleidoscope also represent shades and aspects of Eric Clapton's own life, because, as he told Billboard, all of them have had a certain meaning to him at some point or another. In that sense, the album is a very personal one – maybe not quite as much as the 1970 Derek and the Dominos recording "Layla and Other Assorted Lovesongs," one of the earliest and biggest highlights of Clapton's career, but certainly close; in expressing "the thing I've loved from day one, the most exciting and satisfying thing I've known."
Coming on the heels of 1989's "Journeyman" and 1992's hugely successful "Unplugged," which had redefined the standards by which acoustic recordings were measured and, in the process, had also given an unexpectedly new meaning to the title track of "Layla," "From the Cradle" was one of a trilogy of albums which injected new life into Clapton's career and ensured that his fans would be able to enjoy his immeasurable contributions to the world of music for – at least – another decade. In 1991, Clapton had also recorded the soundtrack for the movie "Rush," arguably yet another very personal project, and released a CD documenting his marathon 24 live appearances at Royal Albert Hall, appropriately named "24 Nights." And while any Eric Clapton album will to a certain extent be an expression of the point where he sees himself and his career at the time of the recording, it's all about the music again now, and about the joy of playing. Nothing shows this clearer than his dual 2001 releases "Reptile" and "Riding With the King." "From the Cradle" was an important stepping stone in getting to this point, and I am glad we have been allowed, yet again, to share in that experience. Thank you, Eric!
Joy Ride in Blue.B.B. and Eric. Lucille and ... no, not Blacky, who was retired in 1985, but at least Blacky's little brother(s). Two guitar gods (albeit one a rather reluctant one), with a combined 80 years of recording experience. Immesurable amounts of talent, from the two "big guys" down to every single one of the other participants in this project. And – dare one say it, given that this is supposed to be a blues album? – loads of fun, on top of all that!
Let's get things straight, musically this is a long way from Cook County Jail and from either man's Cradle, not to mention Layla and other assorted painful love affairs. There is no sense here of "rather [wanting to be] dead than to be here so alone and blue" (B.B. King, "Worry Worry"), of the loneliness at the chiming of the midnight hour (B.B. King, "Blues at Midnight"), or of crawling on the floor like the worst loser in the world begging her to take you back (Eric Clapton, "Bell Bottom Blues"). Sure, the album includes B.B. King's "Ten Long Years," "Three O'Clock Blues" and "When My Heart Beats Like a Hammer" and Maceo Merriweather's "Worried Life Blues" – and yes, these songs do strike a number of blue notes, in their lyrics as well as in King's growling vocals and their mournful, reflective guitar solos. But overall, a relaxed and at times even upbeat feeling dominates this release; and you can hear how much fun every musician involved in the project had in recording it. And further proof is provided by the photos of a broadly smiling Eric Clapton and B.B. King featured on the CD's front cover and in its slim booklet, which interestingly, by placing Clapton behind their ride's wheel, also open themselves up to the dual interpretation of seeing him in the driver's seat while simultaneously acting as chauffeur to B.B. King, who in turn is relaxing in the back seat with Lucille, looking every bit as regal as his name and his stature in the industry imply.
The album opens with John Hiatt's "Riding With the King," the CD's title track and obvious motto, whose lyrics ("I stepped out of Mississippi when I was ten years old, with a suit cut sharp as a razor and a heart made of gold; I had a guitar hanging just about waist high, and I'm gonna play this thing until the day I die") could have been written specifically with Mississippi-born B.B. King in mind. And while both singers harmonize and alternate in most of the song's other verses, those last lines are spoken by King alone, with a big twinkle in his voice and, audibly, also in his eyes. ("You're in good hands, you're ridin' with me," he ad-libs, and "I would have said B.B. King, but you know the king ...") The song's upbeat mood is resumed most strongly in William Broonzy and Charles Seger's "Key to the Highway" which, beginning with Eric Clapton/Derek and the Domino's "Layla" album all the way to this one, seems to turn into a different kind of jam session with whomever Clapton chooses to record it; as well as in Hayes/Porter's "Hold On I'm Coming" and the closing track, Johnny Mercer and Harold Arlen's classic "Come Rain and Come Shine." In the latter, Eric Clapton and B.B. King thus give a classy blues twist to a song which by now has probably been recorded by virtually every artist of note and nevertheless sounds different every single time; from Mercer's soulful original to Liza Minelli's show-stopping interpretation, Billy Holiday, Oscar Peterson, Ella Fitzgerald, Duke Ellington and Don Henley's very own and all very distinct jazzy versions and Frank "Old Blue Eyes" Sinatra's rendition, in many ways closest to Mercer's original.
The blending of classics like the aforementioned ones with more recent songs like Doyle Bramhall II's "Marry You" and "I Wanna Be" (both vastly improved in the treatment they receive here) further adds to the album's variety; and the gang really gets going with King's "Days of Old," which has rarely ever sounded like so much fun. If you have seen Clapton live during either his 1998 or 2001 tour, you know how much he enjoys working with the musicians who participated in the recording of both this album and "Reptile," the release Clapton "tagged on" almost immediately after having finished recording "Riding With the King" (and, individually, on recordings going as far back as his ill-famed mid-1980s releases and 1989's vastly more successful "Journeyman"): most notably Nathan West (Bass), Steve Gadd (drums) and, of course, Andy Fairweather Low (guitars). Thus, it is not all that surprising that the collected talent and good understanding of all those present made for a total recording time of little more than a month; virtually unheard of in most other projects, although pretty standard in the world of B.B. King, who reportedly likes to be in and out of the studio rather quickly, without, obviously, sacrificing the quality of the recording. As befits any good blue album and particularly one by artists as distinguished as these, the vast majority of what you hear is recorded live, with little to no overdub at all. Joe Sample's fluid piano notes accentuate and frame Clapton and King's vocals and guitar solos in just the right manner on more than one track, and while the CD does also feature some drum programming (by Paul Waller), this is much less obvious than on the decidedly less bluesy "Reptile."
In the album's liner notes, Eric Clapton and B.B. King credit each other as "a true genius" (King about Clapton) and "my hero" (Clapton about King), and express that recording an album together has been a long-standing dream of both of them. The product of that cooperation is one infectious CD; and after their long and distinguished careers, it is great to see (and hear) how much fun they can still have doing what they do best.
Enjoy it on its own merits!When Eric Clapton and B.B. King planned the production of the album that would eventually become "Riding With The King," they scheduled three months of studio time – much to B.B. King's team's surprise because the King of Blues usually takes much less than that to finish an album. And lo'n behold, they were done in roughly a month, recording almost exclusively live, with very little editing involved. So Clapton decided to "tag on" an album of his own and take advantage of the outstanding group of musicians they had assembled, and the magical atmosphere of the cooperation with them. He had however, he says, "underestimated" how big exactly the effect of B.B. King's presence had been, and things just didn't seem to go together anymore as they had before. Besides, there didn't seem to be a real theme and a purpose to the album. So he took a break from recording and, when meeting with relatives in Canada, was reminded of his uncle Adrian (a.k.a. "Son") who had recently passed away, and whom he hadn't seen at all during the last years before Adrian's death; although growing up, this had been one of the most influential persons in his life. Like those of many outstanding musicians, Eric Clapton's albums often reflect the stage he is in in life; and remembering his uncle, it suddenly became clear to him that his new album had to be a re-examination of his early years, and of his relationship with "Son," a "local James Dean," as Clapton recently described him to Rolling Stone Magazine, and a true "Reptile" (i.e., "one of the guys") of his native Ripley.
I think it is important to take an album for what it is and not look for things which, given the album's history and meaning to the artist who has recorded it, cannot be there. This is obviously neither "Layla" nor "Fresh Cream" nor, for that matter, "Journeyman," "Unplugged" or "From the Cradle." Clapton has long since made his mark on blues and rock music, with these and other albums, with and without psychedelia (and he has never really been comfortable with the God-like status to which he was elevated early on anyway). He is no longer chasing Pattie Harrison. He has overcome drug and alcohol abuse; recovery from the latter prompting the doubtlessly difficult separation from his family in Ripley, including and in particular his uncle Adrian. He has founded "Crossroads" and taken control of both his private and his business life. His personality has evolved, and he doesn't exclusively have to rely on his music any longer to express what he wants to say. ("The only personality I had was within my fingers," he told Rolling Stone Magazine about his years with Cream and Blind Faith. "I could play it, but I couldn't say it. When we didn't have a song, I'd just think, 'Let's get stoned.' Which we did when we didn't know what we were doing.")
"Reptile" reflects the joy of Eric Clapton's cooperation with outstanding musicians such as long-time friends Andy Fairweather Low, Billy Preston, Steve Gadd and Nathan East (who have also joined him for what Clapton – sadly, very sadly – maintains is his last world tour – special kudos, though, to Billy Preston who, back from the hospital bed and his fight with chronic liver disease, literally danced on the stage when I saw them in the summer of 2001) ... and, yes, the Impressions, whom Clapton values so much that he has already announced that they will be featured on his next album, too. Clapton has called "Reptile" an "electric unplugged album" (with an "unplugged" feeling, but "plugged in" instruments) and compared its production to that of "461 Ocean Boulevard," his comeback studio album of 1974, in that during the recording of both albums, he and the other musicians would jam a lot, just playing songs of other artists they liked, and a fair share of those covers eventually made it into the final cut of the album. J.J. Cale's "Travelin' Light," Ray Charles's "Come Back Baby," James Taylor's "Don't Let Me Be Lonely Tonight" and Stevie Wonder's "I Ain't Gonna Stand For It" are examples here, and Clapton impresses his very own mark on each of them. And although he took some time to remix the album after the initial recording, it still maintains much of the atmosphere present during its production (witness, for example, that spontaneous "Have mercy!" at the end of "Come Back Baby.")
But the album wouldn't be named for Eric Clapton's uncle (and dedicated to him and his wife Sylvia) if it wasn't, in large parts, also about the singer-guitarist's re-evaluation of the things that influenced him in his youth. Hence, songs such as the instrumental title track (which is a bossa nova because, Clapton says, he just loves Brazilian music), the closing and likewise instrumental "Son & Sylvia," "Believe in Life" and, of course, "Find Myself," written early on but finding its true purpose only when the album took its final direction. Despite all this, and its tributes to different musical styles – including those favored by Clapton's uncle – the one thing this album is not is "retro" (Clapton actually fought the record company to keep it from going down that path). It's as much a catalyst for its maker's emotions and state of mind as any of his other albums over the course of the past decades; it's also, blues and beyond, just plain good music ... and incidentally, as if this needed any emphasis at all, Clapton's powers as a guitarist are still fully in place, as not only evidenced on this album but also during his most recent live appearances (with the added benefit of a large screen, concert venue permitting, giving fans an up-and-close view of the man's fretboard wizardry). His latest album should be enjoyed on its own merits, not on those of his numerous past laurels, uniquely important as they are – and on these terms, there is plenty to enjoy indeed.
Eric Clapton's's official website
Themis-Athena's select annotated Eric Clapton discography
Themis-Athena's Classic Rock guides: Part 1 and Part 2
Copyright 2001-2009: Themis-Athena, all rights reserved.
