THE PROBLEM STARTED in the mid-1960s, when a misguided, overzealous fan spray-painted the words “Clapton Is God” on the wall of the Islington underground station. Despite the slogan, Eric Clapton was only one of many, many noteworthy guitarists playing in Britain at that time. As he says in his autobiography, “I was a bit mystified by this, and part of me ran a mile from it. I didn’t want that kind of notoriety.”
Was Clapton a better guitarist than, say, Fleetwood Mac’s Peter Green, or the Creation’s Eddie Phillips, or Fairport Convention’s Richard Thompson? Incontrovertibly not. But perhaps that graffiti was directly responsible for the puzzling esteem Clapton has accrued over the years, to the point where he’s often named the world’s greatest living guitarist (since Hendrix is, you know, dead) despite a nearly endless list of guitarists who have consistently made more interesting music. It could even be said that Clapton has spent the past 45 years proving precisely that he is, in fact, not God.
It took him a long time to embrace the spotlight. He was too nervous to release his most artistically triumphant work, the 1970 double album Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs, under his own name, picking the moniker Derek and the Dominos instead. A crippling heroin addiction followed, which took him out of the limelight for several years in the early ’70s.
If at that point Clapton had become a heroin casualty, his checkered career—with stints in the Yardbirds, Cream, and Blind Faith—might have solidified into a respectable legacy. Instead, Clapton bounced back and went on to a long, long, long, bafflingly successful solo career, paved with mostly good intentions and almost entirely uninteresting music. His questionable 1974 cover of Bob Marley’s “I Shot the Sheriff” was credited with bringing Marley’s music—and reggae as a whole—to the mainstream. But the song now sounds more like watery disco, with Clapton’s thin, white vocals removing the sting from Marley’s racially motivated lyrics.
Let’s ignore 1977’s Slowhand, which contains some of the most tedious rock hits of the 20th century, including a mumbling cover of J.J. Cale’s “Cocaine,” in which Clapton sounds like he’s snorted enough of the stuff to numb his mouth permanently shut, and the painfully slow “Wonderful Tonight,” in which Clapton’s wife asks him if this dress makes her look fat. Let’s also ignore the fact that in 1988, Clapton, a recovering alcoholic at this point, appeared in a Michelob commercial playing a juiced-up version of “After Midnight.” Slowhand’s most criminal atrocities took place in the early ’90s.
In his defense, “Tears in Heaven” was never supposed to be a hit, originally tucked away on the instrumental soundtrack to 1991’s Rush. But it was an odd choice to begin with, tacking a weepy song about the death of his four-year-old son onto a film about a couple of junkies. The song got wider exposure when Clapton performed it on MTV’s Unplugged, along with a truly unforgivable desecration of “Layla,” turning it into a strummy, shuffling little ditty designed for graying boomers to clap along to while remaining seated.
Clapton is still half-heartedly making new, dull music. His newest is titled, simply, Clapton, and includes the usual defanged blues retreads alongside standards by the likes of Hoagy Carmichael and Irving Berlin. One has to wonder what that ’60s graffiti artist would make of it if he could have heard it then, and what words he’d choose to paint on the underground wall.
When I hear the name Clapton for some reason a vivid (and unpleasant) image comes to mind: that of ill-fitting, PLEATED, acid-wash jeans, circa 1991. Not sure why.
To be fair, when Clapton won the Teardrop award (which was somewhat difficult to grasp at the time but ultimately penetrating) his true worth was brought to light, despite some truly infections competition from Brian Wilson.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1mzDR3onnI
Personally, I believe he should be flogged for his version of the “blues”.
I think you had to be there before Hendrix changed everything to really understand. Hendrix was the 9/11 of rock and roll, and Clapton was a great guitarist in a pre-Hendrix world, but 9/11 changed everything. Clapton practically invented the lead guitar player. To quote Rolling Stone:
“Eric Clapton is the most important and influential guitar player that has ever lived, is still living or ever will live. Do yourself a favor, and don’t debate me on this. Before Clapton, rock guitar was the Chuck Berry method, modernized by Keith Richards, and the rockabilly sound — Scotty Moore, Carl Perkins, Cliff Gallup — popularized by George Harrison. Clapton absorbed that, then introduced the essence of black electric blues — the power and vocabulary of Buddy Guy, Hubert Sumlin and the three Kings, B.B., Albert and Freddy — to create an attack that defined the fundamentals of rock & roll lead guitar.
Maybe most important of all, he turned the amp up — to eleven. That alone blew everybody’s mind in the mid-Sixties. In the studio, he moved the mike across the room from the amp, which added ambience; everybody else was still close-miking. Then he cranked the fucking thing. Sustain happened; feedback happened. The guitar player suddenly became the most important guy in the band.
Anyone who plays lead guitar owes him a debt of gratitude. He wrote the fundamental language, the binary code, that everyone uses to this day in every form of popular music.”
No, I’m not an aging white guy with a pony tail who remembers the good old days. I’m that guy’s son, and was a devout hater of Clapton until just recently, when I finally made a point of learning why he is so revered. I’m still not a *fan*, really, but Layla is an excellent album (though it wasn’t made excellent until Duane Allman saved it from near death) and Cream had some solid tunes.
Someday kids will wonder why Hendrix was so amazing (maybe they already do). Go listen to a Robert Johnson recording and wonder how people were so amazed by his ability that they thought he sold his soul to the devil for it. Maybe even Kurt Cobain will — no, scratch that, Cobain was always a shitty guitarist.
His best work is on other peoples albums, and he pretty much peaked with Roger Waters “The Pro’s and Cons of hitchhiking”. It has all been downhill from there.
@theterminizer – I see where you’re coming from, but I don’t believe that I “had to be there… to really understand.” You weren’t there either, I gather. And that Rolling Stone quote is hyperbolic bullshit. “Turn the amp up — to eleven”? That is not a real thing, that is a joke from Spinal Tap. Clapton did do interesting things with the electric guitar during the ’60s, but he didn’t invent sustain, he didn’t invent feedback, he didn’t invent room mic’ing, and he sure didn’t “write” the fundamental language of popular music.
It’s interesting to note that the Layla album (which, I agree, is excellent, and I allude to that in the article) was recorded at an incredibly soft volume, by which I mean the amps were turned WAY down while everyone played in the room together.
Well, there’s much to say with regards to this: As a pure bluesman, which is nothing more than EC ever wanted to really be, he’s got a terrific body of work behind him and influenced a generation of guitarists, many of which copied him note for note.
Regarding those who the writer considers “better”, well Eddie Phillips?(I have to go back and listen to my Creation CD) why not consider Jeff Beck? I happened to attend the Jeff Beck-Eric Clapton show in New York one year ago and boy did Beck do a number on him. However EC’s modern day version of I Shot the Sherriff is terrific. And what about his fellow guitar players on the Crossroads videos? Sadly many can outplay him. But let’s not forget he’s got a tasteful, sweet tone which goes a long way.
All in all Mr Clapton’s body of work over the last 20 years is for the most part uninspiring thus the writer isn’t completely off base.