THE ARTIST FORMERLY KNOWN AS GOD
GUITAR WOLRD - 05/98
GUITAR WOLRD - 05/98
by Brad Tolinski and Harold Steinblatt
It was in the early 1960's that Eric
Clapton first grabbed people with the scream in his sound. People called it
the "woman tone", but that was no woman - that was his life. On songs like
"Born Under A Bad Sign" and "Crossroads", he used his guitar to give voice
to the emotions he couldn't, or wouldn't, vent as a singer or a songwriter.
The young Englishman who so understood the "low-down shakin' chill" of the
blues described his hero, Robert Johnson, did his chillin' with his blazing
solos, his intense vibrato, his piercing bends.
More than 30 years have passed since Clapton's
passionate guitar first inspired devotees to proclaim that he was God. As
the world inches ever closer to the Millennium, it is reasonable to ask, "Where
is God now?" The answer is that he has just released Pilgrim (Reprise),
his first full album of new material in more than eight years. More notable
is the fact that the record contains mostly original material-12 of
the disc's 14 tunes were written or cowritten by Clapton- something that says
much about his development as an artist. For even in his heyday, he preferred
filling his albums with cover songs because, as he says today, he was unwilling
to reveal himself beyond what could be determined from the music and his guitar
playing.
Not anymore. Compared to much of Clapton's past work, Pilgrim is practically
a Book of Revelations. Not in any sort of lurid, tabloid sense, but in the
sustained openness that characterizes every song on the album. He stands up
to some powerful ghosts on Pilgrim and, unlike in the past, does not
rely on his guitar playing alone to do the dirty work. There is plenty of
memorable guitar playing, of course-everything from scorching blues to smooth
r&b to melodic slide to delicate acoustic fingerpicking. Also present,
however, are some fairly out-of-character elements, like the straightforward,
sometimes harrowing lyrics. Even more surprising are the vocals. Anyone who's
ever heard "Layla" knows Clapton is capable of intense, even hysterical singing.
But there is something different about Pilgrim. On the new album, he
rises to the challenge posed by his uncommonly revealing lyrics by taking
some uncommon risks vocally. From the raucous bluesy shouting of "Sick and
Tired" to the technically demanding ornamentation of "Broken Hearted," he
sings with the same controlled abandon once associated only with his guitar
playing.
The openness which so characterizes Pilgrim was foreshadowed by Clapton's
1992 triumph, "Tears in Heaven," which he wrote after the tragic accidental
death of his four-year-old son, Conor. Without being maudlin, he succeeds
in expressing his love for the child and pain at his loss-and with no electric
guitar solo. He repeats his feat on Pilgrim with another song about
Conor, the acoustic guitar-driven "Circus," which manages to be moving without
sounding at all like "Tears in Heaven, Part II."
Clapton addresses another painful topic on the album. He never knew his father,
who abandoned him and his teenage mother before he was even born. On "My Father's
Eyes," he pulls off a play on words that enables him to unite, as it were,
himself, his father and his son-all in the same song. The clever, sensitive
lyrics, combined with a very strong vocal, do fitting justice to subject matter
that would daunt most singers.
" 'My Father's Eyes' is very personal," says Clapton. "I realized that the
closest I ever came to looking in my father's eyes was when I looked into
my son's eyes."
The guitar hero par excellence, Clapton has always paid explicit tribute
to his own heroes, whether by quoting an Albert King solo verbatim in "Strange
Brew," referring to Robert Johnson's "Love in Vain" in "Layla," or recording
a number of songs by Bob Dylan. He remains in the homage business still, as
Pilgrim strongly indicates. Besides covering Dylan's "Born in Time,"
Clapton honors Stevie Ray and Jimmie Vaughan on the upbeat shuffle "Sick and
Tired" and Curtis Mayfield [see sidebar, page 501] whose falsetto
voice and guitar style he emulates on "Pilgrim" and "You Were Gone."
There is a certain irony that an album so filled with echoes of musicians
who've influenced Clapton in the past should be so technically and musically
rooted in the present. For this is one hip Pilgrim. The arrangements
are very modern, as old-time Clapton fans will no doubt immediately
perceive.
Inspired by the high-tech sounds coming out of the British electronics movement
and contemporary American r&b, Clapton and co-producer Simon Climie used
drum machines, sequencers and funky sample loops with abandon. Just as he
woodshedded the blues until his fingers were raw back when he was a guitar
god in training, Clapton immersed himself in this music for the last three
years, working with r&b kingpins Babyface and Tony Rich. Last year, the
guitarist and Climie, under the name TDF, released the electronics album Retail
Therapy (Reprise). While the record was no barn-burner, saleswise, it served
as an excellent proving ground for his latest venture.
It is true that Pilgrim is not bursting at the seams with classic Eric
Clapton womantoned, Albert and Freddie King-fueled flights of Stratocaster
or Les Paul fancy. But there's plenty of guitar, nonethelessfull-fledged screaming
moments in "One Chance," blues heroics in "Sick and Tired" and even a beautiful,
Curtis Mayfield-like cascading solo on "Pilgrim." Most of all, though, in
keeping with the album's strongly integrated aesthetic, the guitar is primarily
an important function of the whole. Elements like the lyrical, muted solo
in "River of Tears," the melodic intro riff in "Broken Hearted" and the running
commentary provided throughout the record by various slide guitars may not
provide the orgasmic satisfaction of "Little Wing" or "Crossroads," but they're
not supposed to. This is a family album, and the guitar is an important, albeit
not dominant, member of that family.
"It's all about perspective and proportion," says Clapton. "I felt going in
that the guitar should never be allowed to overshadow what the song was about."
GUITAR WORLD:
Your new album is called Pilgrim. What significance does that word hold
for you? ERIC CLAPTON:
I think everybody has their own way of looking at their lives as some kind
of pilgrimage. Some people will see their role as a pilgrim in terms of setting
up a fine family, or establishing a business inheritance. Everyone's got their
own definition. Mine, I suppose, is to know myself. That's probably as close
as I can get to it my goal is to really come to identify who am to myself. GW: The album
represents a breakthrough for you in terms of songwriting. It's bee almost
a decade since you've even corn close to being this prolific. Was composing
the songs on this album important to you process of self-discovery? CLAPTON:Absolutely.
As you've observed my normal output is usually much less than this. Actually,
that used to be the way I wanted it. I would always want no more than two
or three of my songs on an album because I just didn't want to reveal myself. GW: Who or what
was responsible for this dramatic change? CLAPTON: It
was primarily due to working with [keyboardist and Pilgrim co-producer]
Simon Climie, who was very encouraging and very supportive. I could always
rely on him to be an objective sounding board. He gave me confidence, and
then on brought it out there was no stopping could've carried on writing,
but we'd ally ended up with more than we needed. We went in with virtually
nothing, so the great thing was that it evolved and got written as we went
along. GW: In the past,
you've been content to let your guitar do the talking. I get the feeling that,
these days, that just isn't enough for you. That you want to take the same
kinds of chances with your songwriting and singing that are usually associated
with your playing. CLAPTON: You're
right. I originally set a wide-open boundary on this record, and once I knew
that I'd stepped over the time limit and we were kind of numb, I thought,
"Now that we've taken this chance, we might as well go for broke and just
get everything as far put as possible." GW: And the
lyrics, too, I imagine. CLAPTON: Absolutely-the
writing, too. GW: This is
going to sound a tad pretentious, but would you say that the artist has an
obligation to reveal himself-to bare his soul? CLAPTON: I can
only speak for myself, but I believe it is my responsibility to do so. But
to do so with care, as well. GW: Responsibility
to whom? To yourself or to your audience? CLAPTON: To
myself, and to the nature of the human race, really. I feel a real need to
observe a level of propriety in what I'm handing out. Instead of me just venting
or spilling my guts, I've got to consider how it's going to affect people.
How it's going to affect me, as well. Because it's like a cycle. GW: Is the process
joyful or something painful? CLAPTON: Joyful,
but in an odd way. When I first conceived this album, I told anybody who was
going to get involved that my goal was to make the saddest record that's ever
been made. It was like, "Are you with me, man and boy?" A couple of people
responded by looking at me like I was insane. That this was not a good
ambition. [laughs] The first person who totally understood where I
was coming from was [noted session drummer] Steve Gadd, who said, "Yes! I
get the point!" He understood that what I was trying to do was set something
up that I could enjoy, because my enlightenment has come from true sadness.
When I hear very sad records, I don't get depressed. I feel an affinity and
I feel relief. The first thing I get is a sense of, "I am not alone. Thank
God! I'm not alone." GW: How difficult
was it to take previously private feelings about specific tragedies in your
life and express them artistically? CLAPTON: It
was difficult. For instance,, the first draft of "My Father's Eyes" came out
sounding pretty petulant. The lyrics were too angry and childish. Where the
art and craft came in was in being able to shape the anger into something
people could empathize with. It wouldn't work for me to just kind of sulk
in the song, because it wouldn't have communicated. Instead of feeling an
affinity, people would've been repelled. GW: Did writing
and recording "My Father's Eyes" and "Circus" help you cope with the loss
of your child? CLAPTON:Music
was very important. Talking about it with friends and seeking professional
help were also crucial. Confronting it head-on was the best thing for me.
It was very important that I be responsible, because there were others besides
myself who needed comfort. GW: "River of
Tears" is perhaps one of the most passionate vocal performances of your career.
Given the personal nature of this album, can we assume that it, too, is autobiographical? CLAPTON:"River
of Tears" was recorded very early in the Pilgrim sessions, and I can
remember thinking, "This is as good as anything I've ever heard myself do."
In fact, it became the standard for the rest of the album. I didn't want anything
else to fall below that.
It wasn't cowardice-or maybe it was. Maybe it was a mixture of cowardice and
insecurity, or just low self-esteem. In the past I would think, "What have
I got to say that's any better than, say, [songwriter] Jerry Williams?" Or
whoever else was contributing songs to my albums. But on Pilgrim, I started
developing a really healthy respect for my own talent.
I just feel like I've become a little more whole in terms of how I see myself
as a singer-songwriter-musician. There is a better balance now among the components
than there was before. I remember when I thought of singing as the bit that
went between the guitar playing-something I couldn't wait to get out of the
way. Singing was originally like a chore that I didn't really enjoy.
Now all of the components are completely integrated, equally important and
really dependent on one another. I now enjoy singing as much as the guitar
playing, if not more sometimes.
I've kind of learned to embrace that responsibility, and it makes me work
harder. Instead of just chucking out the first thing that comes to mind or
the first thing I feel, I really examine it much more now and go over it and
think about cause and effect.
So I felt the way to make "My Father's Eyes" into a sharing experience was
to give it dignity, so that it would make it easy for someone else to identify
with. That's where the craft comes in. It's learning how to use the power
of your emotions, but figuring out how to present it in away that makes it
okay for someone else to take that on board as being their message.
"My Father's Eyes" was the hardest song to record on the album. It was one
of the first songs, along with "Circus," that I wrote after my son died. And
it was the last one that I could let go of. In fact, I found "Circus" a lot
easier to let go of. "My Father's Eyes" went through five incarnations in
the making of this record, and I would veto it each time and say each wasn't
good enough.
In retrospect, I question what I was up to, because at the time it was purely
from an artistic point of view that I said, "it's too fast," or "it's too
jolly," or "it's too sad." Now, I actually think subconsciously I just wasn't
ready to let it go, because it meant on some level-letting go of my son.
Lyrically, it is about a specific person. My impulse for writing the song
was initially very manipulative. I was always toying with the idea that when
she'd hear this song there would be a reconciliation or something. It had
a purpose. And then it started getting vindictive. It got quite vindictive
in some of its early stages, and at some' point I started feeling like the
lyrics were becoming too melodramatic. I realized that the way to save it
was to bring it back to talking about me, and that maybe I'm an unavailable
person, maybe it's me that's unavailable. That whole thing in the song about
just drifting from town to town and not really being able to fit in takes
the blame off somebody else and places it on myself.
GW: Your ability
to question your own motives sounds like a therapist's dream come true. How
did you sustain such honesty on the album?
CLAPTON: Working
with a partner makes that possible-especially if it's someone who knows what
you're up to. If Simon though I was being dishonest with my lyrics, h would
call me out and say, "I think this is unfair," and I'd listen and address
it. On that level, our partnership is as fruitful as anything I've ever experienced.
GW: Your guitar
playing is somewhat subdued on this album, but one track where you really
let it rip is "Sick and Tired." The song is built on a Texas-style shuffle
rhythm, a la Stevie Ray Vaughan, and the vocal and solo are very much in the
style of Jimmie Vaughan. Is this a tribute to the brothers?
CLAPTON: "Sick
and Tired" was done purely for fun. The riff came first, and I just thought
of the Vaughan brothers. I told Simon to program a shuffle and exaggerate
the backbeat so it would sound like a Texas style groove. I then began improvising
these silly lyrics, and thought, "Well, I might as well make it a song now."
It's like a spoof, really.
GW: I'm not
sure how you may take this, but we thought the vocals and playing on "Sick
and Tired" sound more impassioned than any performance on your blues tribute,
From the Cradle [Reprise, 1994].
CLAPTON: Funnily
enough, I think that the bit of irony in there gave me the license to carry
the anger of the vocal. I remember going into the studio and singing that
with a lot of anger. Quite hard. But since there was irony in the lyrics,
that made it okay. It didn't get overindulgent.
GW: You weren't
operating under the pressure of making a grand blues "statement," as you possibly
were when you recorded From the Cradle.
CLAPTON: Exactly.
GW: Are you
particularly close to Jimmie Vaughan?
CLAPTON: I've
known Jimmie for a pretty long time. And then with the passing of his brother,
Stevie, Jimmie and I kind of bonded on a very deep level. We don't talk enough,
and a lot of the time it's my fault, but when we get together I love him.
He's as close as I'll get to having a brother. And I think the world of his
playing. And his and singing-his singing is great!
GW: What did
you think of Stevie's playing?
CLAPTON: Oh,
he was one of the greats. I have to tell his story: We played on the same
bill on his last two gigs. On the first night, I watched his set for about
half an hour and then I had to leave because I couldn't handle it. I was going
to go on after this guy, and I just couldn't handle it! I knew enough to know
that his playing was just going to get better and better. His set had started,
he was like two or three songs in, and I suddenly got that flash that I'd
experienced before so many times whenever I'd seen him play, which was that
he was like a channel. One of the purest channels I've ever seen, where everything
he sang and played flowed straight down from heaven. Almost like one of those
mystic Sufi guys with one finger pointing up and one finger down. That's what
it was like to listen to. And I had to leave just to preserve some kind of
sanity or confidence in myself.
GW: In addition
to paying tribute to the' Vaughan brothers, it's clear you had someone else
in mind while making this album. On several tracks you pay direct homage to
r&b great Curtis Mayfield. Why Curtis?
CLAPTON: Well,
his last album, New World Order, came out the year I was starting
to put this album together, and it was a huge inspiration to me. It was great
on so many levels.
First, Curtis is older than me, yet he was working in a very hip field. The
album was very progressive and featured guys like Organized Noise, a tremendously
modern, urban r&b production company. That in itself is pretty cool. But
what really got me was that he had recently been severely crippled in a terrible
stage accident, and should be suicidal by all accounts, yet here he was singing
about joy and gratitude and life. All of those components inspire me. Whenever
I began to question why I was pushing myself so hard on Pilgrim, I
only had to picture Curtis.
GW: Did you
go back and listen to his classic albums? Some of the string arrangements
on Pilgrim evoke earlier Curtis Mayfield tracks.
CLAPTON: Yeah.
That was deliberate.
GW: Your vocal
approach on "Pilgrim" and "Inside of Me" is very obviously "borrowed" from
Curtis. Did this make you feel uncomfortable in any way?
CLAPTON:No,
this is outright. To me, it's more heartfelt than just saying, "Thanks,
Curtis, for the inspiration." Or writing that on the record, as anyone can
do. I really wanted to work at making him proud, if I could. I hope that's
how this works out.
Now, he could be pissed-off! [laughs] Or maybe he could be both-proud
and pissed off at the same time. Who knows? But I could just hear Curtis sing
the opening line in "Pilgrim," so I had to do it in his voice. [sings]
"How do I choose, and where do I draw the line between truth and necessary
pain?".
There's something kind of clever and wordy about that opening line, and 1
just thought, "This just sounds like the sort of thing he would sing." And
then I looked down and realized it was a good line, but that it didn't really
make any sense-it doesn't mean a damn thing! [laughs] But it didn't
matter.
GW: You're right,
because it sounds so righteous!
CLAPTON: That's
the point. As long as it sounds righteous.
GW: Do you ever
fear that you've crossed the line between homage and plagiarism?
CLAPTON: I think
it comes down to motive. I think if my motives-to put it simply-are good,
then I would use that as a license to go ahead. If my motive is to say "thank
you" to Curtis-which it was-I believe that's good. But if my motive was, "Well,
he just had a hit with that sound, now maybe if I imitate him, I'll have a
hit, too," that needs some examining.
GW: Given your
history as a blues scholar, part of you must really enjoy being a student.
CLAPTON: It's
definitely in my nature.
GW: Then you've
certainly been true to your nature, playing r&b over the last few years.
Besides studying the music of Curtis Mayfield, you've worked with Babyface
and Tony Rich, both of whom are in the forefront of modern r&b. It sounds
like you actually took time out to learn something new, something that is
rare for established artists.
CLAPTON: You're
absolutely right. Between recording and touring, From the Cradle was
a three-year project. All I did during that period was play and explore various
forms of the blues. And when I stopped, I looked around and discovered that
the world had changed at an astonishing rate. I couldn't make sense of anything.
I hadn't been listening to the radio, and I had only really been stocking
up what I needed to keep this blues thing up in the air. The only thing I
could latch onto was contemporary r&b, because it has its roots in blues.
It became a safe place for me, hanging on with one hand and poking other things
with the other. I became particularly attracted to all the different forms
of dance, which still is the dominant music in England at the moment. And
I had to do a lot of learning. I also made a lot of choices in the process.
It was all about that difficult process of putting your finger on a stove
and getting it burned-trying things out.
GW: Was it particularly
hard for someone as visible as yourself to do?
CLAPTON: It's
certainly hard to do in secret. It's impossible to do. For example,
as an experiment, Simon and I tried to record an album of electronic dance
music anonymously, under the name TDF. We felt we had a license to explore
because we were going to make music for a fashion show. And even though we
were simply trying to stretch, we hit a stone wall. I was roundly criticized
in England for sticking my nose in where it didn't belong-experimenting with
things like drum and bass. And so I had to back off a lot of that stuff.
GW: Given your
history, it's hard to imagine that you would even stick your toe into that
world, much less your heart and soul. What attracted you to electronics?
CLAPTON: Some
of the sounds, just some of the sounds. And I have to overcome my prejudices
all the time. Don't forget, I'm 53 years old, and this stuff is very threatening
to me as a musician. It's a bit like I'm one of the old lions, and here come
the young guys-it's almost like they would like it if I didn't understand.
They would prefer me not to understand because then I'm nothing to worry about.
But the thing is, because I've had such a weird and varied experience with
music, I can understand and I can enjoy it.
I remember going into a club in Japan to see a specific drum and bass DJ.
An English guy who'd had a few drinks came up to me and said, "What are you
doing here?" As if to say, "You're not supposed to like this. It's not really
cool for you to like this." But the thing is, I do. And if I hear something
I like, my thing is, I want to do it. And I don't understand this divisionist
way of thinking: "This is our music, that's your music. You stay where you
belong and we'll just stay here." For me, cross-pollination has always been
the lifeblood of music. And that's what we were trying to do with that TDF
thing, Some people liked it, I liked it. And you know, most importantly, it
was the launching pad for this album, because I got to be friendly with using
loops and sequences. Actually, I don't know how to program a sequencer, but
I got to the point where I wasn't threatened by music technology, which I
think is a good thing.
GW: Did you
use drum loops to help you write some of the songs on this album?
CLAPTON: Yeah.
It was random. We usually turned to technology when we ran out of things to
do andneeded a place to start. We would say something like, "Uh, well, um,
have you heard the new Usher single?" And from there we'd just copy the drum
program, dicker with it, and play along with it. That's how the song "Pilgrim"
was born. We came up with a drum program that was derived from a hit-I can't
remember which one-we changed it a little, and then I wrote the words. "Needs
His Woman," which is a song that I've had for about 10 years, was also built-up
and developed in this way.
GW: While this
album represents a departure for you on many levels, you still managed to
include one traditional blues song, "Going Down Slow," by St. Louis Jimmy.
Just who is this St. Louis Jimmy?
CLAPTON: I don't
know much about him. I've never seen any photographs of him, I don't even
know what else he's written. I've asked B.B. King and Jimmie Rogers about
him, and though both knew him, they were sketchy with the details. In any
case, we recorded "Going Down Slow" primarily because I just wanted to include
a blues, and that one has always been on my mind.
GW: No doubt
you've noticed that many important bluesmen, including Luther Allison, Jimmie
Rogers and Junior Wells, have died over the past year. What do you think this
means for the future of the music?
CLAPTON: As
long as we have their recorded work,I believe the blues is safe. For example,
it could've been possible for me not to have any more experience of the blues
than listening to albums by Robert Johnson or Muddy Waters. And even though
I've been fortunate enough to have known many of the great bluesmen, I secured
a faith in the blues even before I knew them personally through records.
On the other hand, in terms of players coming along from that kind of experience,
it's probably the end of the road. There was something about the nature of
the way these guys played and the simplicity in their approach that could
only have come from a very simple way of life - a way of life that is gone.
Robert Johnson, for example, would've seen another musician only every now
and then, let alone heard one, so his experience was so vastly different from
that of musicians today. And the music must have been profoundly affected
by that.
GW: You first
heard Robert Johnson when you were very young, and it changed your life. Why
do you think you connected so heavily to what was, essentially, an alien,
remote music.
CLAPTON: I think
it has something to do with my not having a father. I sought my father in
the world of the black musician, because it contained wisdom, experience,
sadness and loneliness. I was not ever interested in the music of boys. From
my youngest years, I was interested in the music of men.
GW: And the
remote element?
CLAPTON: That
would add to the appeal, wouldn't it?
GW: Paul Simon
was asked recently to name one of his contemporaries who still moved him,
and he replied, "How about Eric Clapton?" He went on to cite your performance
on MTV Unplugged, and how you used that outlet both to explore your
musical past and find a direction for your future. Do you agree with that
assessment?
CLAPTON: When
I was first putting that set together, I don't think I had any idea where
it would lead me, but I think it's fairly accurate to say that I saw it as
a massive opportunity to set the record straight about who I was and where
I'd come from. I felt it was essential that people stop thinking about me
as this one-dimensional character who should always just seriously consider
getting a hold of Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker and putting Cream back together
again.
I always felt that people were saying to me, "Stop fucking about, man! Plug
into your Marshall 100-watt and let's get the show on the road." And I went,
"No deal. That's not what I'm about. I started my career playing an acoustic
guitar in a pub by myself, and this is how simple it can be, and this is how
enjoyable it is on that level." That's what Unplugged was about for
me.
And it was funny because I had my band with me, and a lot of the time I had
to think of things for them to do. I could have happily just as well done
it on my own. And that was important to me to state, not just for the audience
at large, but for myself as well.
GW: That you
were what? Not a guitar hero, but a songwriter?
CLAPTON:
Or a journeyman. Just someone who really prefers the whole rather than one
element. I think I wanted to bring people back from labeling me or trying
to pigeonhole me, or getting it wrong. Just simply get ting it wrong.
by Tom Siclair
There's far more to Curtis Mayfield than "Superfly"
or "Feddie's dead", his chart-topping hits from the soundtrack of the 1972 blaxploitation
film Superfly. As leader and chief songwriter with the Impressions, the
Chicago-based singer-guitarist pioneered a wholly unique sound, a fusion of
gospel, and doo-wop harmonies, percussive guitar-playing and airy funk flavorings
(not to mention Mayfield's distinctive falsetto vocals). Beginning with the
flamenco-flavored "Gypsy Woman" in 1961, the group hit the charts regularly
throughout the Sixties with songs like "I'm so proud" (later covered by Todd
Rundgren), "Keep on pushing" and "People get ready" (covered by everyone from
Jeff Beck to Bob Marley) before Mayfield broke away to pursue a solo career
in 1970.
His debut album Curtis - released on the artist's own Curtom Label -
found him delving deeper into the sociological territory he'd begun exploring
with the Impressions, with songs about racial pride ("We the people who are
darker than blue"), morality ("(Don't worry) If there's a hell below we're all
going to go") and the generation gap (the conga-driven FM radio staple "Move
on up", which advised young listeners to "bite you lip/and take a trip"). Musically,
Mayfield was beginning to shake off the constraints of the two and three-minute
song format, stretching out on loose, funky jams and dealing with ever-edgier
topics, as on Curtis/Live!, a lost classic from 1971. Recorded at New
York's Bitter End, the intimate-sounding album finds Mayfield and second guitarist
McMullen trading amazingly soulful wah-wah guitar licks atop Latin percussion
and delivering pungent message-songs like "Stone Junkie", with its in-your-face
lyric "I know that everybody whose heart is still thumpin'/Is drinkin', shootin',
or smokin' or something." Clearly, Mayfield wasn't holding back on any front.
The phenomenal trio of songs he composed
for the Superfly soundtrack - "Freddie's dead," "Pusherman" and the
title track - would garner Mayfield his greatest solo success, and help net
him his only Number One album. Those songs, like the film, dealt explicitly
with drugs, but Mayfield wasn't preaching, just laying out the realities of
addiction. "If you wanna be a junkie, wow/Remember, Freddie's dead", he sang
over music that was simultaneously mellow and funky, leaving listeners to
draw their own conclusions.
Mayfiled's last major hit was 1977's "Do do wap is strong in here", a track
the composed for the soundtrack of the fim Short eyes. The late seventies
and eighties were mercially, although the did continue to record and tour.
Then in a tragic accidentn this great artist was permanently paralyzed from
the neck down when a lighting scaffold fell on him during an outdoor concert
in Brooklyn, New York, on August 14, 1990.
Mayfield received some long-overdue props in 1994 when the impressions were
inducted into the Rock Hallof Fame, and he was lavished with ah heartfelt
tribute at the Grammy Awards. That same year saw the release fo a Tribute
to Curtis Mayfield, featuring tracks from Eric Clapton, Lenny Kravitz,
Bruce Springteen and Elton John, among others. But the Curtis Mayfield story
is far from over. In 1996, Mayfield released New World Order, a triumphant
comeback album. Despite his handicapped condition, the man ho sang "I plan
to stay a believer" keeps on believing - and making inspired music.
by Brad Tolinski
"Making Pilgrim was an amazing year-long
endeavor," says Lee Dickson, Eric Clapton's long time guitar tech. "In fact
I'd never seen Eric work like that before. He was totally absorbed in every
detail of a very complex recording process. he and [co-producer] Simon Climie
created as many as three completely different arrangements for each song, and
within each of those arrangements existed a world of possibilities due to the
fact they were using Digidesign's Pro Tools software."
While veteran Clapton fans may find it shocking to learn that the blues virtuoso
has gone "techno", the truth is he used the computer program to achieve very
human results. "Pro Tools allowed me to achieve a level of refinement that I've
never been able to approach before," says Clapton. "It allowed me to totally
home my craft".
A standard fixture in most modern recording studios, Pro Tools, a software-based
computer audio workstation, allow a true 24-bit recording, editing, signal processing
and mixing. In addition to 64 tracks of record and playback, Pro Tools feature
up to 72 channels of discrete analog and digital I/O, and complete dynamc automation
and recall.
"As you can imagine," says Dickson, "after a year of recording, overdubbing
and signal processing, it gets pretty hard to remember what Eric used on any
given track. But, for most of the album, his primary electric guitar was a Clapton
Signature Model Stratocaster with a custom gold-leaf finish and 23-carat gold-plated
hardware."
If this gilded axe sounds somewhat exotic, that is precisely the effect Clapton
had in mind. According to Mark Kendrick of the Fender Custom Shop, who constructs
all of Clapton's new guitars, "Eric was looking for something that had an old
world look - something like it could hang in the Louvre."
Fender Custom Shop vice president John page came up with
the idea of trying a classic gold leaf, but it took him and Custom Shop artisan
George Amicay three tries before they found just the right combination of
finishes for the two-piece alder body, contoured to feel like a mid-fifties
Strat. "The most difficult thing was trying to second-guess what Eric would
like," says Kendrick. "But it appears that he was very pleased."
In addition to requiring a golden axe, Clapton issued another challenge to
the Fender Custom Shop : to create a duplicate of his favorite late-fifties
Fender tweed amp. "Eric had what he considered to be the Holy Grail of amps,
but since he only had one, he was afraid that if it broke, he'd be out of
luck", explains Del Breckenfeld, Fender's director of artist relations. "Our
mission was to clone that amp, which was quite a difficult task. We started
by having a top technician spec out Eric's amp to the 'T', then we searched
for old parts. We even had the transformer hand-wound to the original specs.
After all that, is still didn't sound quite right. At that point, Joh Page
suggested old pine. We found some that came out of an Old church's floor,
and that made the difference. We nailed it. We built a total of three.
We built them, and then subjected them to the acid test - Clapton's ear. Eric
loved them, and declared them to be exact replicas. Let me tell you, it was
quite a thrill to nail it. From what I understand, he gave one to B.B King
as a gift." On the acoustic clip, Clapton used his trusty 1939 Martin 000-42
- the guitar featured prominently in his MTV Unplugged performance
- a Marti D-28 and a Lowden 0-38. For much of the album's slide work Clapton
used a one-of-a-kind dobro. "Eric got the body and neck separately', says
guitar tech Dickson.. "I can tell you how old it is , but he's had it for
ages The neck has a permanent bow, but since all he uses it fir his slide,
it doesn't matter."
Many of Clapton's effects were dialed digitally via Pro Tools, but during
the year-long effort Eric used a Roger Mayer Voodoo Vibe, and a Dunlop CB-535
bryBaby Multi-Wah which features a rotary switch that offers the user six
different frequency voicings and a control that makes it possible to dial
in up to 11dB additional gain.
In the string department, Clapton has relatively traditional tastes. He swears
by Ernie Ball Regular Slinkys and Ernie Ball Roll Slinkys. His rather heavy
picks are custom-made for him by Sterling Ball.
by Greg Kot
With the Yardbirds :
Five Live Yardbirds (1964):
Through the recording quality is poort and the band runs more on adrenaline
than precision, this is one of rock's first essential live recordings. It captures
the Yardbirds reinventing a range of American blues and rock and roll standards
in their signature "rave-up" style. Clapton's blister-raising leads are the
forefront, notably a Buddy Guy-like eruption on Eddie Boyd's "Five Long Years".
The disc is a far better representation of the band's power than its early studio
recordings; compare the full-bore "Good Morning Little Schoolgirl" here to the
cutesy version on the For Your Love album.
For Your Love (1965): The little song was
the straw that broke Clapton's back; with its lead harpsichord it was too "pop"
by half for the young aficionado, who promptly quit the band.
With John Mayall's BluesBreakers :
Bluesbreakers - John Mayall with Eric
Clapton (1966): A cornerstone of the British blues-rock
era, Blesbreakers represents Eric Clapton's most persuasive statement
as the quintessential blue-eyed bluesman. After seeing a Freddie King album
cover with its depiction of the blues holding a Gibson Les Paul, Clapton immediately
sets aside the Fender Telecaster he'd used in the Yardbirds. On Bluesbreakers
he replays his debt to Otis Rush with a ferocious "All Your Love" and gooses
King's "Hideaway" with an Elmore James quote. Not coincidentally, "Clapton is
god" graffiti started showing up in London when this album was released.
With Cream :
Fresh Cream (1966):
The debut of rock's first supergroup - Clapton, bassist Jack Bruce and drummer
Ginger Baker - this disc is dominated by classic blues, played with a massive
roar that would pave the way for heavy metal arena rock, Led Zeppelin and the
road to excess.
Disreali Gears (1967): Clapton proved he
knew the value of a good power chord as a member of the Yardbirds, and he puts
the talent to excellent use in "Sunshine Of Your Love" and "Tales OF Brave Ulysses",
both of which he co-wrote.
Wheels of fire (1968):
Featuring one side of studio tracks and another of all live material, this
album provides the most complete picture of the Cream legacy, at times both
inspired and bombastic. The album is essential if only "Crossroads", in which
Clapton takes the blues of his hero, Robert Johnson, on a rampage that is
equally thrilling and terrifying. "Believe I'm Sinkin' Down," indeed; the
song is prelude to the power trio's tempetuous breakup.
Goodbye (1969): The single "Badge" reveals
Clapton as, of all things, a first-rate pop tunesmith. The track finds him
working with friend and fellow guitarist George Harrison, who co-wrote the
song and guest on the recording, returning the favor Clapton bestowed with
his performance on the Beatle's "While My Guitar Gently Wheeps".
With Blind Faith :
Blind Faith (1969):
Clapton takes a detour from Cream's metallic roar with his second supergroup,
this times joining Baker, Rick Gratch and Steve Winwood to achieve a more spiritual
ands serene sound and outlook. His "Presence Of The Lords" and more introspective
guitar playing coincidence with a conversion to Christianity.
With John Lennon's Plastic Ono Band :
Live Peace In Toronto 1969 (1969)
: Clapton at his rawest, playing the self-effacing sideman
role he's coveted since his halcyon days in Cream. He has a ball playing barbed-wire
riffs and leads on unhearsed versions of "Blue Suede Shoes" and "Dizzy Miss
Lizzy". The second half of the disc is another story, however, with Yoko Ono's
avant-garde shrieking making Clapton's presence superfluous.
With Derek and the Dominos:
Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs
(1970): Remains the monument against which all guitar-rock
albums must be measured. Clapton's vocals attain a new level of soulfulness,
and his guitar playing has never been more eloquent. It is here, in a setting
once removed from the traditional blues to which he devoted his youth, that
Clapton most persuasively captures the essence of that blues spirit, if not
its precise form, and gives it a voice uniquely his own. His inspiration is
twofold: an unrequited love affair with Patti Boyd, the wife of his pal George
Harrison; and the late addition to the studio lineup of Duane Allman, whose
impassioned leads goad Clapton to the performance of a lifetime.
As a Solo Artist:
Eric Clapton (1970):
Working closely with his American pals Delaney and Bonnie Bramlett, Clapton
sounds like a sideman on this, his solo debut. Still, there are some marvelous
performances, including a prelude of things to come with a gospelized hit version
of J.J. Cale's "After Midnight."
History of Eric Clapton (1972): An early
career retrospective worth tracking down because it includes a handful of Sixties
rarities, including a guitar duet with Jimmy Page on "Tribute to Elmore" plus
"I Want to Know," one of three blues-rock tracks Clapton recorded with a studio
group called Powerhouse, which included Jack Bruce on bass.
461 Ocean Boulevard (1974): After shaking
a years-long heroin addiction, Clapton regains his bearings with this surprisingly
mellow collection. Though the album does not contain any of J.J. Cale's songs,
it is clearly influenced by the Oklahoma singer-songwriter's relaxed shuffles
and conversational vocals. Clapton's unhurried hit version of "I Shot the Sheriff"
helps introduce the song's author, Bob Marley, to the rock audience, while his
hymn-like yearning on "Give Me Strength" and "Let It Grow" show an emerging
balladeer for whom guitar pyrotechnics have become secondary.
Slowhand (1977): More than any other release,
this set the standard for the Clapton of the Eighties. Heavy on pop concessions
(e.g. "Wonderful Tonight" and an anthemic cover of J.J. Cale's "Cocaine" that
sounds positively creepy from the perspective of the Nineties), the album also
has the occasional guitar opus ("The Core") thrown in for the Cream faithful.
Just One Night (1980): His best live album
as a solo artist, showcasing a dedication to the blues lacking in his studio
work from this period.
Behind the Sun (1985): Clapton experiments
with guitar synthesizer and some daring arrangements, but the album-produced
by pop hack Phil Collins-represents the nadir of his underachieving Eighties
studio work. Three tracks tacked on to the album at the insistence of label
executives only add to the sense that Clapton is tinkering with commercial formulas
rather than writing and playing with any sort of urgency..
Unplugged (1992): An affirmation of Clapton's
love for the acoustic blues, Unplugged also contains a beautiful version
of his Top Ten hit "Tears in Heaven," an understated eulogy for his young son
who died after an accidental fall only months before.
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