For the prosecution: Mojo Flucke, Ph.D.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the prosecution will prove that Eric Clapton has committed numerous crimes against rock, namely:
• Making music way more derivative than legally permissible for a rock god
• Exploiting fans by releasing milquetoast pap
• Squandering monstrous talent
Clapton is not God, contrary to the Islington graffito proclaiming it during his tenure in John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers. He is, however, an excellent blues mimic, taking compositions like Robert Johnson’s “Crossroads,” William Bell and Booker T. Jones’ “Born Under a Bad Sign,” and for Mayall, Freddie King’s “Hideaway.” He can derive like few others on earth, in a musical milieu where creatively covering other compositions is the best way to connect with the audience.
Yet great blues musicians contribute at least one or two original compositions–or the definitive interpretation of someone else’s song–to the canon of blues standards. B.B. King has “The Thrill Is Gone” and “Every Day I Have the Blues.” Junior Wells, “Messin’ With the Kid.” John Lee Hooker, “Boogie Chillen’,” “Boom Boom” and “One Bourbon, One Scotch, and One Beer.”
Clapton’s got nothing. “Layla” is known for its innovative coda written by Domino Jim Gordon and a legendary main riff written and co-performed by Duane Allman. “Sunshine of Your Love” was co-written by all three members of Cream. Its undisputedly legendary guitar solo opens not with an original Clapton-improvised phrase, but the melody from “Blue Moon.”
Left to his own devices, Clapton churns out total dreck. There’s a lot to choose from; I’ll keep it brief by offering the “greatest whiffs” from three different decades: (more…)
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Chicago, Illinois, April 1977 — I knew what I was in for ten seconds after Guitar Player said to me: “We want you to interview Led Zeppelin.” My head filled with the clarion call of screaming guitars and in a moment of epiphany I saw it all: Jimmy Page would be my touchstone. Every story I’d ever written or ever would write would be measured against this one.
I don’t want to write this. Like a lot of you, my heart is really heavy today. The only music that I really want to listen to, or even think about, is Michael’s. But maybe there are some of you who have had enough of the wall-to-wall Michael coverage and need a little break. So for you, today I’m going to write about Spirit, a great band from L.A., and their third album, Clear, which was released in the same year, 1969, that Michael Jackson made his debut on the national stage. Surprisingly, that’s not where the commonalities end. Both Spirit and Jackson found success by fusing different genres together, and making the end results their own.
Since I started listening to blues, that’s been a hard question for me to answer. It’s important, because it speaks to what blues is, really. Can Clapton play the blues, really? Sure he knows the chords better than most any player, ever, and his technical facility was never in doubt, even before some spray-painting urchin deified him in the famous English graffito.