jlr29's Full Review: The Cream of Clapton by Eric Clapton
On one afternoon about five years ago, I was driving my Dad’s SUV home (I was living with my parents at the time) from a college class I had commuted to while listening to “The Cream of Clapton.” I was going up a hilly road that led into my neighborhood, following the winding curves of the street when, in a split-second, I saw a car coming directly at me from off to my right. Before I could swerve or react in any way, I was hit. I felt the car go up into the air, and then there was the deafening crunch of the vehicle hitting the asphalt wrong-side down. My head spun as my car rolled three times. All I could think was, “So this it. This is going to be the end of my life.”
Suddenly the crushing sound stopped. I was sitting right-side up. I was still alive and appeared to be fully intact. But my windshield in front of me was now fragmented into tiny shards and was partially smashed in. I was bleeding and confused. A strange man approached me and asked if I was all right. “Get help, please,” I said weakly.
For some reason I then made the effort to get out of the vehicle – thankfully, the door was still functioning properly. I think in the back of my mind I was worried that the car would explode or something. Plus, since the car was still partially in the street, there was a danger of getting hit again. I staggered out of the car door, off of the asphalt, and onto the grass at the side of the road, where I collapsed. As I lay there, I could hear the minor strains of the outro to “Let It Grow” sounding ominously from what was left of my vehicle. The car was totaled, but much to my chagrin, the CD player was still working. Lying there, trembling with shock and fatigue, I wished it would shut up.
A man came along and used his cell phone to call for an ambulance. It arrived and took me to a nearby medical center. Miraculously, it turned out that I had no broken bones, only cuts and scratches. The police came and talked to me. They ruled that the accident was entirely the fault of the other driver (the stranger who had approached me and asked if I was all right while I was still sitting in the front seat of the broken vehicle). He had been driving one of those old big & boxy Lincoln Town Cars. He was not hurt and had suffered relatively little damage to his vehicle other than the front grille. Of course, he turned out to be a foreign student from Africa who had no insurance. But the important thing was that I was OK.
In the weeks following the accident, I slowly regained my comfort and confidence while driving. Still, I developed some superstitious habits. I avoided the road where the accident had taken place when at all possible. I also avoided listening to Eric Clapton while driving, especially the song “Let It Grow.” I had not recovered my copy of “The Cream of Clapton” from the wreckage of the vehicle, but his music would come up from time to time on the classic rock station I often listened to, at which point I would usually change the station. I guess I figured that if I hadn’t been mesmerized by Clapton’s music, I somehow would’ve seen that car earlier and would’ve swerved out of the way in time.
As the years went by, I slowly forgot about my silly, superstitious grudge against Clapton. A few months ago, I decided to complete the process of forgiving Clapton for any harms I had once absurdly perceived he had caused me. I re-bought “The Cream of Clapton,” and I’m glad I did, because it’s an essential collection for anyone interested in rock history.
The most historical aspect of the album is the five songs by Cream, the London rock trio that Clapton fronted in the late 1960s. Their heavy sound and precise musicianship were highly influential to later musicians. Although the band’s look and sound was often labeled “psychedelic,” I don’t think the label fit the music well. Unlike other bands from the same era, I don’t think Cream’s material sounds dated – particularly not such standout songs as “I Feel Free,” “Sunshine of Your Love,” and “White Room.” Clapton has always said his guitar playing is based on the blues, but on these songs his soloing sounds like it’s based in some other planet. In my opinion, the Cream songs constitute the best portion of this record.
Clapton’s 1970s solo material is a mixed bag (at least as represented here). It includes strong, emotional material like “Bell Bottom Blues” (a good song despite the cheesy title), and pleasant, laid-back grooves such as “Let It Rain.” But it also includes the lyrically goofy and musically unremarkable “Blues Power,” a lazy cover of “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door,” and a twang-funk version of “I Shot the Sheriff” better remembered for bringing attention to Bob Marley’s songwriting than for its own questionable merits. I also must commit heresy by stating my opinion that “Layla” is somewhat overrated. It’s a pretty good song, but the shrieking, high-pitched guitars on the closing piano-driven section irritate me. Clapton’s mid-70s work sounded laid-back at its best, but at its worst sounded tired and inebriated – which is how I understand Clapton himself spent a good portion of the decade.
Fortunately, the album closes on a strong note, with the hit “Wonderful Tonight” followed by “Promises,” a sad, resigned goodbye to a former wife or girlfriend. The album closes on an energetic note with “I Can’t Stand It,” a rocking accusatory blues.
It was ridiculous of me to ever have been cross with Clapton. Had I been more of a half-full type of person, I would’ve credited his music as the good luck charm that got me through the accident relatively unscathed. Rationally, of course, I don’t think it had any impact at all. I do think “The Cream of Clapton” is worth buying for any guitar player or classic rock fan. And I can finally admit that “Let It Grow” is a good song.
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