Eric Clapton

Eric Clapton
461 Ocean Boulevard
There’s One In Every Crowd
E.C. Was Here
No Reason To Cry
Slowhand
Backless
Money and Cigarettes
August
Crossroads
Journeyman
Unplugged
From The Cradle
The Cream Of Clapton
Pilgrim
Me and Mr. Johnson


Eric Clapton (Polydor ’70) Rating: B+
After the excesses of Cream and Blind Faith, Eric Clapton was looking for a more modest outlet for his talents, and he found it supporting Delaney and Bonnie on tour (a record ensued titled On Tour With Eric Clapton). He then moved onto this, his first solo album, on which Delaney and Bonnie and friends (which included Stephen Stills, Steve Cropper, and Leon Russell) were still very much in evidence (especially Delaney, who produced the album and co-wrote most of the songs with Clapton). As such, Eric Clapton had a loose, funky feel that was far removed from his previous work, in part because Clapton traded in his muscular Gibson (which gave him arguably the greatest tone ever in Cream) for the leaner sounds of a Stratocaster. And though many fans disapproved of this new direction (and still do) and yearned for a little less Delaney Bramlett and a little more “Eric Is God” Clapton, this was a fine first effort that remains one of his best. “Slunky,” a jazzy sax-led jam with some serious guitar heat as well, was immediately worlds away from anything Clapton had done to date, though more standard blues fare returns in the form of “Bad Boy,” a solid if not especially inspired number led by some lean guitar runs from Clapton, as well as the odd horn punctuation here and there. The horns are out in full force on “Lonesome And A Long Way From Home,” a lively Leon Russell written (with Delaney) piece with prominent female backing vocals, while an enjoyably up tempo cover of J. J. Cale’s “After Midnight” became one of Clapton’s signature solo songs and a perennial concert favorite. The comparatively overlooked “Easy Now,” a simple yet effective ballad featuring Eric’s ever-improving singing along with a lone acoustic guitar, is one of this underrated album’s most underrated efforts, but the hard rocking “Blues Power” was easy to remember and became another fan favorite whose “I’m living on blues power” motto became a manifesto of sorts for Clapton. Continuing, “Bottle of Red Wine” shuffles along in a pleasant if insubstantial way, while “Lovin’ You, Lovin’ Me” sounds like something his friend George Harrison might’ve written. Still, whatever grit that last song lacked is made up for by the presence of Steve Cropper on “Told You For The Last Time,” which unsurprisingly has a soulful, low-key feel, again with effective female backing help that is even more prominent on “Don’t Know Why,” where Eric heads to the church for a gospel-flavored, horn-driven pop song that’s thoroughly enjoyable. Still, for all the album’s consistent quality, “Let It Rain” is the only truly great song here. The song has a memorable opening riff and a wonderful overall melody and atmosphere, but I especially love those “raaaaiiinnnn” backing vocals towards the end and Eric’s lean, economical guitar solo (easily the album’s best, though I still sense that Eric is holding back a bit) provides the icing on the cake to a legitimate Clapton classic. Alas, the album was considered a disappointment upon its release, “Clapton Is Very Good” not being quite enough for those who previously thought that “Clapton Is God,” but many years (and far too many mediocre albums) later it’s easy to appreciate this album’s loose ‘n’ lively feel and low-key charms. Better yet, after this album Clapton took three of Delaney and Bonnie’s “friends” (Jim Gordon, drums; Carl Radle, bass; and Bobby Whitlock, keyboards and vocals) and, together with Duane Allman, became Derek and the Dominos for one truly inspired album.

461 Ocean Boulevard (Polydor ’74) Rating: A-
After Layla & Other Assorted Love Songs capped off a restlessly brilliant first seven years of his career, Clapton sank into despair and drugs. He was coaxed out of retirement by Pete Townshend and some other friends for the poorly recorded Eric Clapton’s Rainbow Concert before resuming his solo career in earnest with this comeback album, which was produced by the legendary Tom Dowd. 461 Ocean Boulevard mapped out the course his solo career would subsequently take (but rarely if ever with such inspired results), as Clapton’s voice takes center stage along with his guitar as Clapton sought to shed his Guitar God status while proving his chops as a singer and songwriter. Fortunately, Clapton’s singing is confident and relaxed, anchoring a low-key but consistently very good and surprisingly varied album. It starts off with a galloping romp through the traditional “Motherless Children,” which Clapton turns into a stellar slide guitar showcase. The only other big time rocker is the final track, “Mainline Florida,” a great driving song that really trucks along. However, the heart of the album is really in its beautiful ballads: “Give Me Strength,” on which Clapton acknowledges his drug induced demons and hopes that He leads him to better days ahead, the pretty, pleading “Please Be With Me,” and the laid-back yet dramatic sing along “Let It Grow,” one of his best solo songs ever. Clapton also shows he can still play the blues on a solid version of Elmore James’ “I Can’t Hold Out” (highlighted by a slide guitar solo) and a funky reading of Robert Johnson’s “Steady Rollin’ Man,” which has some more hot guitar. Also enjoyable are his somewhat repetitive yet slinkily seductive duet with Yvonne Elliman (“Get Ready”) and the reggae-ish groove of Johnny Otis’ “Willie and the Hand Jive,” but of course this album is primarily remembered because of his rock cover of Bob Marley & the Wailers’ “I Shot the Sheriff.” His first and only #1 hit, Clapton does Bob Marley justice, poppifying his funky beats for mass consumption but bringing reggae to a worldwide audience. Though he’s hardly God-like anymore, on this more modest pop collection Clapton delivers heartfelt songs that are performed with passion and soul. No subsequent E.C. album would ever rise to such consistent heights again, and 461 Ocean Boulevard served as both a career rebirth and one of his artistic peaks.

There’s One In Every Crowd (Polydor ’75) Rating: B+
Though not nearly as successful as 461 Ocean Boulevard since it failed to produce any hit singles or signature songs, There’s One In Every Crowd was another fine album that's somewhat overlooked and underrated. It’s not as good as 461 Ocean Boulevard, but this laid back album is well worth the time of any Eric Clapton fan, because even though it lacks the gritty excitement and energy that many rock fans expect, it does have some tasty licks (the album contains some fine solos but they’re generally concise and low-key) and consistently pleasant melodies. True, perhaps Eric is still overly enamored with Bob Marley, as evidence by reggaefied tracks like “Swing Low Sweet Chariot” and “Don't Blame Me” (sorry, Eric, but I prefer the real thing), and songs such as “Little Rachel” and “High” are solid but fairly perfunctory. However, the rest of the album is highly enjoyable, boosted by gospel-ish backing vocals (led by Elliman and Marcy Levy) and a nice mix of originals and covers. On the covers side, Willie Johnson’s “We've Been Told (Jesus Is Coming Soon)” begins the album with a mellow country blues that exudes class, with some fine dobro picking from Clapton, while his moody update of Elmore James’ “The Sky Is Crying” is especially well done, and “Singin' The Blues” (written by Leon Russell’s wife, Mary McCreary) has a more up tempo, funky feel along with an increased energy. From the pen of Clapton comes some fine songs as well, most of which are featured on side two. “Better Make It Through Today” is a slow, moving ballad with lyrics that again allude to his past problems, “Pretty Blue Eyes” is a pleasantly melodic love song highlighted by soaring harmony vocals, and “Opposites” is an atmospheric, low-key ballad with a nice extended ending. Anyway, it’s a shame that none of these well-crafted songs aren’t better known, and that There’s One In Every Crowd doesn’t have a better reputation than it does. Really, it’s one of his better albums and it’s easily enjoyable provided that you can ditch the “Eric Is God” expectations.

E.C. Was Here (Polydor ’75) Rating: B+
I’ve heard good things about Clapton’s guitar playing on Derek and the Dominos Live At The Fillmore, which is high on my wish list. Until I hear that, I won’t know how to rank this within the context of Eric Clapton live albums, but on the whole I do believe that these passionate performances exceed those captured on Just One Night (1980) and 24 Nights (1991). I wish it contained more than 6 songs (a double album would've been welcome), but at least these 6 songs average almost 8 minutes in length, and Eric lets loose with quite a few solos along the way. Really, that was the whole point of this album, as Eric’s record company wanted to prove to the public that Clapton could still play the guitar hero role after the more song oriented nature of his last two solo albums. Unfortunately, George Terry takes a few more lead turns than he probably should have, but by and large he proves an adept foil for Clapton, with whom he trades sizzling leads on “Have You Ever Loved A Woman.” The idea whereupon Clapton’s guitar finishes some sung verses was a neat one, making the song an obvious album highlight, and Clapton also delivers a high-energy solo in the middle section of “Presence Of The Lord.” Alas, despite the best efforts of Yvonne Elliman, both this and “Can’t Find My Way Home” fall far short of the moody studio versions on Blind Faith, Steve Winwood’s soulful vocals being sorely missed. “Drifting Blues,” finally restored to its full 11-minute version on cd after a 3-minute edit on the LP, is a slow, laid back blues shuffle that strangely integrates a few verses from “Ramblin’ On My Mind,” even stranger because a full-blown and quite excellent version of that song appears later on. Really, those of you who insist that Clapton is “boring” would do well to check out his impeccable playing on this one; it just might make you want to dig deeper than making sweeping (and in my opinion not entirely fair) generalizations such as that. Anyway, back off my high horse and back to this album, which ends with the up tempo shuffle of Bobby “Blue” Bland’s “Further On Up The Road.” Along with “Drifting Blues” this song had yet to appear on any Eric Clapton release and is more valuable for it, though the fiery interplay between Clapton and Terry provides value enough on its own. So, when all is said and done what we have here are three first-rate live performances (“Have You Ever Loved A Woman,” “Ramblin’ On My Mind,” “Further On Up The Road”) that show what a great guitar player Clapton still was, and three solid but seriously flawed efforts (“Presence Of The Lord,” “Drifting Blues,” “Can’t Find My Way Home”). A B+ rating sounds about right, and the less said about the bizarre album cover the better. Update: Since this review was written I've gotten acquainted with Derek and the Dominos Live At The Fillmore, so feel free to read my opinion about that album here.

No Reason To Cry (Polydor ’76) Rating: B-
Eric Clapton was always enamored with The Band, whose Music From Big Pink played a large role in the dissolution of Cream and inspired the direction of his subsequent solo career. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that Eric jumped at the opportunity to record with The Band on No Reason To Cry. Problem is, much like on his debut (but even more so) Clapton is too content to play second fiddle, as his collaborators (also including Bob Dylan, Ron Wood, Georgie Fame, and Marcy Levy) often relegate Eric to bystander status. Don’t get me wrong, I love The Band, but I don’t necessarily love Eric Clapton fronting The Band, and sometimes it seems like everybody (Wood, Robbie Robertson, George Levy) but Clapton plays lead guitar on the album (he also only wrote or co-wrote 5 of this album’s 11 songs). The only time Eric really cuts loose is on a moody cover of Otis Rush’s “Double Trouble,” as too much of the album comes and goes pleasantly enough but without leaving a lasting impression. “Beautiful Thing” and “All Our Past Times” are the most Band-like songs and both are tasteful and melodic without being especially exciting, while Marcy Levy dominates “Innocent Times” (a big ballad) and “Hungry” (which at least has a decent groove and a lively chorus), neither of which are bad but neither of which are Eric Clapton songs. Elsewhere, “Country Jail Blues” delivers blues-by-numbers but at least it has some solid slide guitar, while “Carnival” is an annoying Latin-tinged song that starts with a silly “oi” chant and never gets much better; particularly irritating are the highly (fake) accented backing vocals. Melodic, pretty ballads such as “Hello Old Friend” and “Black Summer Rain” fare much better, and “Sign Language,” an atmospheric duet with Bob Dylan, provides a succinct album highlight that's probably the album’s best song along with “Double Trouble.” Far more forgettable is the cd only bonus track “Last Night,” a sloppy, uninspired blues that ends a rather unmemorable at times but fairly enjoyable album on which Eric failed to assert himself.

Slowhand (Polydor ‘77) Rating: B+
Let's face it, most of Eric Clapton’s solo efforts are highly professional affairs that lack the urgency of his earlier days. That said, Slowhand is one of his most confident efforts, though he still refuses to completely extend his talents, despite the urgings of uber producer Glyn Johns. Fortunately, the album does feature some impressive guitar playing, most notably on a cover of J.J. Cale’s “Cocaine” (still better in concert, though, where the song has long been a fan favorite) and “The Core,” a hot extended (8:40) number that also features stirring vocals from Marcy Levy and some serious belting out on sax from Mel Collins. The J.J. Cale-ish “Lay Down Sally” has dexterous guitar, a good shuffle groove, and a catchy chorus going for it, while Clapton registers a nice falsetto vocal performance on the sappy but pretty romantic ballad “Wonderful Tonight,” which became one of his signature songs, particularly among the female set. The song was ironically conceived from Clapton’s knee jerk responses to his wife Patti’s repeated questions about her appearance while Eric waited for her to get ready to go out one night. “Peaches And Diesel,” a gorgeously laid back instrumental that closes the album, is another highlight, but other mellow songs such as “Next Time You See Her,” “We’re All The Way,” and “May You Never” (the latter two covers of Don Williams and John Martyn songs, respectively) are pleasant but lightweight, while “Mean Old Frisco Blues” is the type of solid but risk free blues cover (Arthur Crudup) that Clapton could probably perform in his sleep. Still, though these lesser efforts seem a little lazy, “Cocaine,” “Wonderful Tonight,” “Lay Down Sally,” and “The Core,” are among his best known and strongest solo songs.

Backless (Polydor ’78) Rating: B-
A continuation of the same style as Slowhand, Backless suffers significantly from "inferior sequel syndrome," as Clapton's albums were growing increasingly formulaic. Basically, I never get the impression that Clapton needed to make this album, but rather that he made it because his record company wanted some "fresh product." Don't get me wrong, Eric tries his best and said product is professional sounding and rarely unpleasant, but the album seems to be the result of perspiration rather than inspiration. Then again, Eric probably didn't sweat too much when recording laid back songs such as "Promises" and "Golden Ring," both of which are still pleasant (there's that word again) enough in Eric's all too modest manner. Buddy Bob Dylan lends Eric two songs this time out ("Walk Out In The Rain" and "If I Don't Be There By Morning"), but neither Dylan number is especially strong (Eric's weak vocal on the latter doesn't help, either), unlike the J.J. Cale song (yet another) "I'll Make Love To You Anytime," which provides this album's highlight along with the melodic "Tell Me That You Love Me." Elsewhere, "Watch Out For The Sky," "Roll It" (another Marcy Levy showcase), and "Tulsa Time" are unimpressive from a compositional standpoint but groove along with a good energy, with the latter boogie number being regularly featured in concert. Alas, "Early In The Morning," despite some choice slide guitar from Clapton, suffers somewhat from his band's plodding performance, and as such this blues epic (7:55) fails to completely live up to its potential. Truthfully, Marcy Levy is the only member of Eric's increasingly lethargic backing band who stands out this time, and Eric would soon thereafter cut the chord with the American band (also including Carl Radle, keyboardist Dick Sims, George Terry, and drummer Jamie Oldaker) who by and large had served him well. It was a necessary move on his part, because even though it has its moments and is a decent enough (if rarely inspired) effort, it's hard not to think of Backless as a weaker version of Slowhand.

Money and Cigarettes (Polydor ’83) Rating: C+
After a live album (Just One Night) and a studio album (Another Ticket), Eric took some time off to kick his alcohol addiction, switched record labels, and then immediately pursued a more commercially oriented direction on Money and Cigarettes. The album was produced by Tom Dowd, who had previously produced Eric's best solo album, 461 Ocean Boulevard, but the results are rather disappointing this time out, especially so when you consider that his crack studio band consisted of a couple of other ace guitarists (Ry Cooder and Albert Lee), legendary bassist Donald "Duck" Dunn (of Booker T. & The M.G.'s fame), and an experienced drummer in Roger Hawkins (ex-Traffic, countless sessions). Alas, the album doesn't deliver the guitar heat that one may have hoped for, being a very song oriented collection, only the songs are often average, with a few ("I've Got a Rock 'n' Roll Heart," "Man Overboard," "Slow Down Linda," "Crazy Country Hop") ranking as flat-out filler. "I've Got a Rock 'n' Roll Heart" sounds like a slight commercial jingle somebody (it's a cover) made up on the spot, while annoyingly silly choruses mar the other three songs. Elsewhere, the Sleepy John Estes cover ("Everybody Oughta Make A Change") is solid but nothing special, and "Ain't Going Down" is such a blatant ripoff of "All Along The Watchtower" that it's hard to ignore, though this is somewhat made up for by the excellent energy exhibited by the band on what is a fairly hard rocking song. The other side of the spectrum, "Pretty Girl," is a decent ballad, while "Man In Love" is a decent blues shuffle, as the word "decent" seems to sum up this album in general (when it's not worse than decent, that is). I'm not sure why J.D. Considine in the 2004 Rolling Stone Album Guide singled this album out as being one of Clapton's best efforts, but that book leaves a lot to be desired in general. At least "The Shape You're In" and "Crosscut Saw" feature the good grooves and intense guitar interplay that is too often lacking elsewhere, making me think that had Eric and company let loose more often this album could've been as good as Considine says it is. Alas, for whatever reason (pressure from his new record company for a more commercial product, perhaps?) Eric plays things too safe, and the inconsistent songwriting further hinders the process, resulting in a patchy album that is for hardcore Clapton fans only.

August (Polydor ’85) Rating: C
Behind The Sun and August (named for the month during which this album was released and his son Conor was born) were two of Clapton's most commercially successful releases. However, they're also two of the least-liked albums among Clapton aficionados, largely due to the influence of Genesis singer-drummer and solo artist Phil Collins, whose slickly commercial (and very '80s) production makes both albums sound extremely dated. Still, both albums contain some good songs, in the case of August starting with the horn-heavy "It's In The Way That You Use It," which features some fine guitar work from Clapton and whose popularity largely stemmed from its association with the movie The Color Of Money. Written by Lamont Dozier (of Holland-Dozier-Holland fame), the tinkly synths, prominent horns, and sax solo of "Run" (another radio track) seem more fitting for Phil Collins than Eric Clapton, who nevertheless puts in a good gruff vocal, which he reprises for "Tearing Us Apart," a hit duet with Tina Turner on which Eric lets loose on guitar a bit. Despite its slick veneer, "Bad Influence" is a classy Robert Cray (who along with Stevie Ray Vaughn would make blues music a viable commercial force again in the mid-to-late '80s) cover highlighted by solos from Eric and Michael Brecker on sax, but the synths on "Walk Away" seem trapped in time, and the song itself, a desperate ballad, is quite forgettable. "Hung Up On Your Love," which approaches disco at times and was again written by Dozier, fares even worse, as Eric again fails to assert himself (so what else is new?), holding back while letting Collins' ideas dominate (not a good thing, I think most of you would agree). Fortunately, the album then briefly upswings on the pleasantly catchy "Take A Chance," though like every song here this one is far too polished for its own good, and the album then downswings sharply on the overly obvious, sickly sentimental "Hold On," which again is way more readily identifiable as a Phil Collins song than an Eric Clapton song. Much better is "Miss You," another popular radio track with an r&b-feel and some signs of life from Eric's guitar, which is too often M.I.A. on several other songs that surely would've benefited from an appearance, such as "Holy Mother," a boring "easy listening" ballad that maybe your mother would like. OK, that was harsh, 'cause the song's lyrics are rather moving and Eric does chime in with a lyrical solo there at the end, but people who think Eric Clapton is boring are likely thinking of albums such as August (it was one of his most popular ones, after all). Really, the less said about "Behind The Mask" the better, "experimental" not necessarily equaling "good," while "Grand Illusion" (a cd only track) is another atmospheric departure, albeit a more palatable one. Still, by and large the singles are the best songs here, and even those are no great shakes, as this mostly forgettable album offers little in the way of memorable album tracks but lots of bland mediocrity from Eric "Phil Collins" Clapton.

Crossroads (Polydor ‘88) Rating: A-
This exemplary box set really renewed interest in Clapton and put his remarkable career in perspective. Encompassing every phase of his career and filled with unreleased tracks (including 5 songs from the aborted second Derek & The Dominos album), live performances (many of which are quite good), and hard-to-find singles, this is an excellent showcase for an extraordinary guitarist who has had a sometimes spectacular, albeit inconsistent career. Still, the overall impact and strength of his various career outlets cannot be denied, as the 4 cds of Crossroads expertly documents. Crossroads begins with his work with the legendary Yardbirds (including 3 decent but hardly revelatory demos: “Boom Boom,” “Honey In Your Hips,” “Baby What’s Wrong”) and is followed by his groundbreaking blues exploits in John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers (including the flip-sided single, “Lonely Years”/”Bernard Jenkins,” and a live track also not on Bluesbreakers With Eric Clapton, “Have You Ever Loved A Woman”) during which time “Clapton is God” began being spray painted on the walls of London. Next up is his incendiary work with the band many consider to have produced Clapton’s greatest contributions to rock n’ roll, Cream (including a short but vastly improved “Lawdy Mama” and a really good BBC recording of “Steppin’ Out”), followed by the short-lived supergroup Blind Faith (the unreleased track this time being the simple, spare blues of “Sleeping In The Ground”). Crossroads then briefly chronicles his outings with Delaney and Bonnie (“Comin’ Home”), whose backup band he took along with Duane Allman. Eric and Duane soon became Derek, the band was re-christened Derek and the Dominos, and Clapton’s masterpiece, Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs, was created. Among the studio songs not previously released, their recalled first single produced by Phil Spector (“Tell The Truth”) sounds like an All Things Must Pass outtake, unsurprising given it was recorded at the same time using the same musicians. The b-side, “Roll It Over,” is considerably slower paced and bluesy, and though neither are especially inspired, both are worth hearing. As for that never finished second album, “Got To Get Better In A Little While” has some really good wah wah guitar and “Evil” (a Willie Dixon cover) funky start and stop dynamics. Better yet is “One More Chance,” a mellow, catchy little number with some superlative slide guitar. I’m not as crazy about their acoustic attempt at “Mean Old Frisco,” but I still prefer it to the version on Slowhand, and “Snake Lake Blues” is another “lost gem” with some lyrical lead work from Clapton. Crossroads then spends most of its final two cds on a lengthy overview of Clapton’s solo career, during which time he largely abandoned his experimental earlier exploits for a more commercial, song oriented approach. This course has infuriated old fans who view him as wasting his talent, but this approach has also gained him many new fans, making him a worldwide superstar in the process. The main complaint with Clapton is that he became too safe as a result of his “been there, done that” approach to really letting loose on his guitar. However, Crossroads makes a convincing case (as do these reviews, hopefully) that his inconsistent solo career has also had its fair share of highlights. Of course, like most box sets Crossroads contains some redundant and unmemorable material, and a few of these songs should’ve remained in the vaults. Certainly the slightly remixed “After Midnight” adds little to the original, and his slowed down 1987 remake of the song (see what I mean about redundant material?) would really prove regrettable when it was featured in a beer commercial (remember, Eric is a recovering alcoholic). Still, his slinky, mellow blues reading of Jimmy Reed’s “Ain’t That Lovin’ You” (a 461 Ocean Boulevard outtake) is highly enjoyable, as is his cover of Peter Tosh’s “Whatcha Gonna Do” (unsurprisingly, recorded during his reggae phase of There’s One In Every Crowd). The b-side to his uneventful cover of “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door,” “Someone Like You,” is every bit as pretty as the unreleased live version of “Further On Up The Road” is smokin’, though Phil Collins’ dreaded ‘80s production devours "Heaven Is One Step Away,” and the spare, “unplugged” “Too Bad” (both Behind The Sun outtakes) likewise isn’t too good. Still, another outtake, “Wanna Make Love To You,” probably would’ve been the best song on August (for whatever that’s worth), and it’s songs such as this that makes this box set so worthwhile, both for hardcore Clapton fanatics and casual fans. Sure, some selections are highly questionable, and equally head scratching omissions (“Have You Heard,” “SWLABR,” “Bell Bottom Blues,” “The Core,” and "Forever Man," for starters) prevents Crossroads from being the definitive career overview that it could've been. Still, these four cds are surprisingly listenable and enjoyable throughout, and the high points, especially on the first two discs which chronicle his peak years, reach some dizzying peaks.

Journeyman (Reprise ‘89) Rating: B+
Crossroads was a model box set that renewed interest in Eric Clapton’s career, and he responded with his most guitar-driven, and not coincidentally, best effort in years. Some people (i.e. Robert Christgau) snickered at the album’s title, full well knowing that there was a hint of truth in it and feeling that Clapton should have accomplished more over the past fifteen years. However, this highly accomplished effort (produced by Russ Titleman) likely made many of his old fans feel better. It was a substantial hit, too, featuring fine singing from Clapton and even better guitar playing on a soulful batch of songs, several of which were written by Jerry Williams. Popular radio tracks included “Pretending” and “No Alibis,” both of which rocked just hard enough while containing catchy choruses, and “Bad Love,” which saw Clapton really letting loose on guitar (oddly enough, the song was co-written with Foreigner’s Mick Jones!). Elsewhere, not even the dated synths on "Anything For Your Love” can mar such a well-written and performed song, and some more hot guitar helps, while the musty Ray Charles blues “Hard Times,” here remade as a spare nightclub number, was tailor made for Clapton’s talents. Robert Cray co-writes and helps jam on “Old Love,” a bluesy ballad about Clapton’s old love Patti Boyd (ex-Patti Harrison and Clapton), while the incredibly forgiving George Harrison lends the melodic “Run So Far,” on which he also plays some gorgeous slide guitar while Eric chimes in tastefully as well. Clapton's version of Bo Diddley’s “Before You Accuse Me” also became an instant fan favorite, and his delicate duet with Linda Womack, “Lead Me On” (written in tandem with husband Cecil; check out Womack and Womack's Love Wars album), is also easy on the ears and agreeable, while the gorgeously spiritual “Running On Faith” was one of Clapton’s best ballads ever. This album is still a little too slick and professional sounding for its own good, as evidenced by the slight pop of “Breaking Point,” and his misguided reading of Elvis Presley's "Hound Dog" is a real mutt of an effort. Really, given that a couple of songs (“Old Love,” “Lead Me On”) and the album itself is longer than it needs to be, there was no reason at all to include it. Still, these minor flaws aside, Journeyman was an very solid album that signaled a reawakening of Clapton's muse after several disappointing efforts.

Unplugged (Warner Bros. ’92) Rating: B+
One of the music phenomenon's of the early 1990s was MTV’s Unplugged series, and Eric Clapton Unplugged was one of its signature concerts along with Nirvana' Unplugged In New York. Playing a loose and confident set alongside trusted band mates such as guitarist Andy Fairweather Low, bassist Nathan East, and pianist Chuck Leavell (who predictably shines), a seated and relaxed Clapton never once loses his way. He may not be God, but then again he never was, and Clapton is still one helluva guitar player, not to mention an underrated singer. The three new songs are good, too, including “Signe,” a nifty little guitar intro, and “Tears In Heaven” and “Lonely Stranger,” two heartbreaking odes to his deceased son Conor (there wasn’t a dry eye in the house for those two) who died tragically when he fell from a fourth floor window. Elsewhere, the mood is often refreshingly upbeat and fun (for example, “Alberta” and “San Francisco Boy Blues”), and I’ve even grown to tolerate the waltz-like rendition of “Layla” that became a big hit (it helps if I pretend the original doesn’t exist!). Granted, a couple of these (primarily cover) songs either fall flat (“Before You Accuse Me,” which I've never been a big fan of despite its status as a blues standard, and a boring rendition of Robert Johnson's "Malted Milk") or fail to add anything to the original (the still-good “Running On Faith”), and the album runs a little long at over 60 sometimes-lagging minutes. However, drastic reworkings ("Nobody Knows You When You're Down And Out"), significant improvements (“Old Love,” which has the album's most stunning solo), and several successful odes to old timers (Big Bill Broozy's "Hey Hey" and an impressive solo acoustic update of Robert Johnson's "Walkin' Blues") make this a concert recording that sounds genuinely new and fresh, even now. Perhaps the audio album isn't quite as compelling without the visuals (Clapton was clearly moved at several junctures), but when Clapton and company bring the curtain down with a spontaneous cover of Muddy Waters’ “Rollin’ & Tumblin’” there could be little doubt that this was a triumphant return to his roots. To his own astonishment, Unplugged went on to become Clapton’s best selling album, paving the way for future blues-based endeavors such as From The Cradle and Me and Mr. Johnson and snagging six Grammy Awards in the process.

From The Cradle (Warner Bros. ’94) Rating: B+
After the commercial success of Unplugged, Clapton found the confidence to finally deliver the straight up blues album that die-hard fans had waited 30 years for. As Clapton himself told Marc Roberty: “I was actually trying as hard as I could to try and replicate the original recordings. But it still came out as me which is the beauty of the whole exercise...It’s almost like I’m just leaving John Mayall now and I’m producing my own blues band. And it's taken me 30 years of meandering the back streets to get there.” The fact that Clapton himself calls this an “exercise” speaks volumes, but the fact that it's so accomplished makes it an exercise that's well worth returning to. Clapton’s song selection certainly can’t be faulted, as he gives straight up renderings of many not so obvious choices from admired bluesmen such as Willie Dixon, Elmore James, and Leroy Carr, among others. The man obviously knows his blues. Clapton also picked excellent sidemen (and longtime associates) such as drummer Jim Keltner, keyboardist Chris Stainton (who shines throughout the album), guitarist Andy Fairweather Low, and harp player Jerry Portnoy (the album's most prominent sideman along with Stainton), thereby ensuring that all of the performances are typically classy and tasteful. Of course, this is a problem as well, as some of these performances are too restrained, and the focus is occasionally on Clapton’s gruff singing rather than his great guitar playing, always a dubious strategy where Clapton is concerned. Also, do we really need yet another version of Muddy Waters' “Hoochie Coochie Man?” Fortunately, when Clapton lets loose on stellar renditions of songs such as “Blues Before Sunrise,” “Five Long Years,” “It Hurts Me Too,” “Someday After A While,” and “Groaning The Blues,” his absolute mastery of the electric guitar simply cannot be doubted. On the less rocking front, "Third Degree" is a slow, smoldering blues that would seem perfect for a small club, while "How Long Blues" and "Motherless Child" wouldn't have sounded out of place on Unplugged. Like that album, this one is often-terrific in bits and pieces but gets somewhat monotonous over its 60-something minutes. In addition, Clapton tends to try too hard to sound like his heroes, and his band sometimes plods where they should swing. Still, though From The Cradle sometimes comes across as an “exercise” rather than a truly inspired recreation, at its best it is indeed a terrific tribute to some unjustly forgotten bluesman, some of whom were likely rediscovered as a result.

The Cream Of Clapton (Polydor ’95) Rating: B+
Despite already having two best of compilations, two box sets, and an Unplugged showcase on the market, Clapton (or at least Polydor; no Warner Bros.-era songs appear) again repackaged some of his best known songs and sold it to the public as fresh product. Truth be told, this is superior to Timepieces: Best Of Eric Clapton, but this is still a very dubious collection. This album contains six Cream songs that are better obtained on either the original studio albums or The Very Best Of Cream. It also has two Derek & the Dominos songs, whose lone studio album, Layla And Other Assorted Love Songs, is an essential rock purchase that you should buy immediately if you don’t already have it. Finally, we get treated to ten of Clapton’s best-known solo songs, sequenced randomly. Though the quality of these songs can’t be denied, considering that the only reason this album was released was to make a millionaire and his record company richer, I have but one question to ask: is this album really necessary? Recommendation: buy Layla & Other Assorted Love Songs and Crossroads instead.

Pilgrim (Warner Bros. ’98) Rating: C
Clapton’s first album of new material in nine years (he did some soundtrack work in the interim) clocks in at an overly generous 75+ minutes, which isn’t surprising given that almost all of these songs are too long. After three heartening steps forward (Journeyman, Unplugged, and From The Cradle), this was one giant leap back, as Pilgrim is a bland “adult-oriented” pop album. Clapton’s guitar occasionally heats up (“One Chance,” “She’s Gone”), and there are some soulful ballads, such as the Grammy Award winning first single “My Father’s Eyes.” However, the lifeless production saps any energy that this album might’ve otherwise offered, and almost every song here has the same lazy, loping beat that makes most of today’s r&b such a bloodless bore. These factors largely negate the fact that this album features some of Clapton’s best singing on record. Not totally, as Clapton’s crafty songwriting is also worth a mention (he did have nine years to stockpile songs, after all), and the female backup singers that appear throughout the album are a plus as well. However, the intrusive synthesizers and electronica touches are major negatives, both being rather transparent and somewhat desperate attempts to stay abreast of current trends. Plus, producer Simon Climie (who co-produced along with Clapton, lest anyone thinks that Eric went into this ill-advised direction unwillingly) makes Phil Collins seem like Tom Dowd or Glyn Johns, and at 14 similar-sounding songs Pilgrim adds up to much less than the sum of its individual parts. I suppose that Clapton deserves some credit for daring to do something different this late in the game, and given his recent track record perhaps he’s entitled to a mulligan, especially when one considers how other sixties contemporaries such as Pete Townshend and Jimmy Page have coasted on past glories. That said, Pilgrim is an album that’s strictly for diehards and completists, for even though it works well enough as pleasantly forgettable background music, it becomes awfully boring over the long haul when it has your undivided attention.

Me and Mr. Johnson (Warner Bros. ’04) Rating: B
After a disappointing duet album with B.B. King (2000's Riding With The King) and a forgettable follow up to Pilgrim (2001's Reptile, which is most notable for the appearance of The Impressions on backing vocals), Eric Clapton retrenched and returned to his first and dearest love, the blues. More specifically, the blues songs of Robert Johnson, the legendary ‘30s bluesman who allegedly made a deal with the devil at the crossroads that enabled him to play the guitar better than anyone else and who wrote a mere 29 songs (all available on Johnson's The Complete Recordings box set) before the devil came back for final payment. 14 of those 29 songs appear on this tribute to the man who influenced the music of Eric Clapton more than any other, and who Clapton had covered periodically throughout his career (though he's never covered any of these songs on record before), most famously on Cream’s version of “Crossroads.” Alas, much has happened since that young and hungry performance, and this elder, more “mature” Eric Clapton is (not at all unexpectedly) too "respectful" of the source material, rarely playing with reckless abandon but instead using it as an exercise for "the student" to pay homage to “the master.” Beefing up the arrangements of the originals (most of which featured just Johnson's ghostly voice and a single acoustic guitar, yet so amazing was his technique that it often sounded like several hands were plucking strings - one belonging to Satan, perhaps?) with help from highly competent friends such as Billy Preston (piano), Jerry Portnoy (harp), Steve Gadd (drums), Andy Fairweather Low and Doyle Bramhall II (guitars), none of these songs conjure up the spare, haunting dread of the originals. Indeed, up tempo tracks like "They're Red Hot" and "Last Fair Deal Gone" could actually be described as "upbeat" or "jaunty," while other songs such as "When You Got A Good Friend," "Stop Breakin' Down Blues," and "If I Had Possession Of Judgement Day" shuffle along nicely but unremarkably, with Clapton's playing as proficient as ever but rarely truly catching fire. Though the album's loose, upbeat atmosphere is something of a surprise (a surprise I suspect old Robert wouldn't approve of), the album's polished sound and tame performances are par for the course if one considers his other recent efforts. It's still disappointing, but only mildly so, as Eric and co. are extremely professional and these songs have stood the test of time for good reason. Still, I can't help but consider this album something of a missed opportunity, as it lacks both the highly personalized warmth of Unplugged and the guitar heat of the high points of From The Cradle. After all, Robert Johnson isn't supposed to be "pleasant" or "easy listening," far from it, but that many of these songs are (aside from moodier, more intense attempts such as "Little Queen of Spades" and "Hellhound On My Tail") pleasant prevents Me and Mr. Johnson from being a complete disaster and elevates it to the ranks of being a mildly enjoyable also ran.

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