The death of the legendary band leader John Mayall last week has me thinking about Eric Clapton again.
Like many rock fans of my vintage (b. 1966), I grew up hearing Clapton on rock radio, his pop crossover-pop stuff like his remake of Bob Marley’s “I Shot the Sheriff,” “Lay Down Sally,” and his softy ballad, “Wonderful Tonight,” but also his rock stuff like the Cream jams, Blind Faith, and his first solo album. Getting the White Album, I learned it was him adding those great bends and solos to “While my Guitar Gently Weeps.”
When people like me picked up the guitar, we got in deeper. The Stones and Zeppelin pointed back to earlier groups like the Yardbirds and John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers. And deeper still, like, to the original blues musicians, the ones who were often the last to get credit for their contributions to popular music. Clapton was revered among guitarists. He went from being lauded cheekily as “God” to being written off decades later by self-appointed critics on social media as “overrated.”
At some points, I have been guilty of dismissing him as the latter. After an undeniable first decade or so, like many mainstream artists, he was guilty of coasting with mediocre-to-poor pap (do we need to hear “I’ve Got a Rock ‘n’ Roll Heart?).
But it’s important to remember the context in which young Clapton made a huge impact, that early-mid-1960s British blues scene. Not only did they turn white kids onto blues and R&B, but people like Clapton and Peter Green were guitar innovators, taking techniques learned from Muddy Waters, Elmore James, B.B. King and Freddie King, et. al. and amplifying them literally and figuratively. Clapton’s work on the so-called Beano Bluesbreakers album in 1966 was groundbreaking and influenced countless other guitar heroes. At the time, few had heard anything like his tone, sustain, feel, dynamics, and soulful playing. Such giant steps might be overlooked as blues-based rock (which is a little redundant) progressed exponentially over the balance of the 1960s. For example, compare his work on the Freddie King standard “Hideaway” to the 1960 original. Clapton’s attack is more aggressive and he pushes the then-recently introduced Marshall JTM45 amp to produce creamy sustain.
Young Clapton was restless. Though initially leaving the Yardbirds after a short tenure due to their veering too much into commercial pop for his tastes. Cream was heavy blues-rock informed by psychedelia. Blind Faith –another supergroup like Cream — was earthier, as post-psychedelic rock bands generally started to return to more rootsy sounds. From there, he jumped ship with Delaney & Bonnie and Friends, the opening act on the miserable Blind Faith tour of the States. Always a reluctant singer, Delaney Bramlett in particular brought him our of his shell. Clapton’s first solo album is pretty much Clapton acting as Delaney, fronting Delaney & Bonnie’s band, with honorary member Leon Russell present, and Clapton adopting Delaney’s vocal style. That led right to Derek and the Dominos, with key members of the the D&B/Leon scene, Jim Gordon, Bobby Whitlock, and Carl Radle, perhaps the most underrated bass player in rock. Layla is what I consider Clapton’s peak.
It’s this metamorphosis that I find the most compelling and enjoyable stage of his career. We talked about it for about an hour for my Leon Russell book. I didn’t know what to expect. He has become almost as well-known for being a thorny character with controversial views and some embarrassing and offensive episodes in this past. But like many artists, you can decide whether you want to separate the art from the person behind it. I was pleased and honored to speak to an artist whose records I loved, who I learned a lot from as a guitar player, and whose music has been omnipresent in my life on the radio, television, and films. It was one of the most surprisingly enjoyable interviews I did. Audio of my interview with him is here. Excuse the low-fi quality. I just recorded a phone interview.