[Slowhand] Boston / Tweeter Review

[Almighty Geetarz]

Ouch! Colorless voice? 
 
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MUSIC REVIEW
Clapton lets his fingers do the rocking
By Jonathan Perry, Globe Correspondent  |  July 5, 2004

MANSFIELD -- There were two Eric Claptons onstage at the Tweeter Center Saturday night. There was, inevitably, Clapton the staid performer and serviceable singer whose colorless voice served as a reminder why he was never the lead vocalist for any of his first four famous bands -- the Yardbirds, John Mayall's Bluesbreakers, Cream, and Blind Faith. Then there was Clapton the exquisitely fluent guitarist and eloquent melodicist who expressed everything the other Clapton could not.

Decades after untold brick walls in England were tattooed with that storied "Clapton Is God" graffiti -- a period of time that, alas, has also seen him make some of the most commercially calculated and artistically dull music of his career (an unfortunate mid-'80s "creative" alliance with once-ubiquitous hackmeister Phil Collins) -- the 59-year-old British rock icon offered a two-hour tutorial as to why that proclamation of divinity ever applied in the first place. Mercifully, having come to his senses and released a slew of solid, blues-torchbearing albums during the past decade, Clapton steered clear of the turgid schlock that helped define the decade of "Lethal Weapon" soundtracks and Members Only jackets.

This time out, Clapton is touring in support of the new "Me and Mr. Johnson," a disc devoted to the guitarist's covers of songs by Delta bluesman Robert Johnson, whose songs have long been a staple of Clapton's repertoire. While the album falls prey to his tendencies toward bland arrangements -- too often he reduces the haunted terror of Johnson's music to a laid-back, bluesy shuffle -- the material fared far better when Clapton tackled it live.

Taking a seat unplugged-style early in a set that had up to that point included the leisurely opener, "Let It Rain," and an incisive reading of Bob Marley's "I Shot the Sheriff" -- an early peak that saw the reggae-grooved number grow from spare rumination to searing protest as Clapton's virtuosic guitar phrasing grew exponentially more penetrating and urgent -- Clapton switched between acoustic and electric guitars as he dusted off a clutch of Johnson selections with authority and verve. Joined by various members of his seven-piece backing band (including second guitarist Doyle Bramhall II, who nimbly traded licks with his employer throughout the evening, and onetime Beatles/Stones sideman Billy Preston on Hammond organ), Clapton lit into the barrelhouse grind of "Milkcow's Calf Blues" and the freight-train rumble of "If I Had Possession Over Judgment Day," both highlights of the set-within-a-set. There were also throwaways in this first night of a two-night stand at the Tweeter
 Center, like the shopworn blues cliche "Hoochie Coochie Man," as well as inevitable perennials such as the lovely but by-the-book readings of "Layla" and "Wonderful Tonight." With the opener, steel-guitarist wizard Robert Randolph, dueling with him, Clapton breathed new life into Cream's mothballed, prototypical heavy-metal war horse, "Sunshine of Your Love" -- its thunderous opening riff still as indelible to every aspiring guitar hero as Deep Purple's stomping "Smoke on the Water." Another Cream nugget, the brightly colored "Badge," and the wah-wah guitar-soaked, quicksilver blaze of "Got to Get Better in a Little While" provided proof that even the most spectacularly uncharismatic stage personalities can make for compelling viewing and listening when they've got a Stratocaster guitar, fingers that summon fire, and a slow hand.

Opener Robert Randolph and the Family Band delivered a euphoric set of funkified, gospel-drenched R&B that had far more in common with '70s Southern soul than Randolph's '90s New Jersey roots. 


		
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