[Slowhand] SF Chronicle SJ Review

[Almighty Geetarz]

With Robert Johnson salute, Eric Clapton can be forgiven (almost) 

Aidin Vaziri, Chronicle Pop Music Critic 
Monday, August 2, 2004

 
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There are few things more boring than the music Eric Clapton has made over the past two decades. A block of wood? Definitely. Three episodes in a row of "Everybody Loves Raymond"? Possibly. Nickelback's last album? Hmm ... 
Bad business suits and senior prom ballads like "Wonderful Tonight" are simply not good for a 59-year-old guitar hero who got his start in some of the most explosive rock bands known to man -- Cream, Derek and the Dominos, the Yardbirds -- and inspired people to take to the streets of London and graffiti the walls, "Clapton Is God." 
Sure, the years of alcohol and heroin addiction didn't help. But still, an entire album written with Babyface? 
Fortunately, Clapton, who kicked off a two-night stand at the HP Pavilion in San Jose on Friday night, seems to have realized the error of his ways. 
He emerged onstage without saying a word and dug into a deep soulful groove that he kept diligently building for the next two hours, reconfiguring some of his most well-known hits, such as "Layla" and "Sunshine of Your Love," along the way to make room for loud, searing solos and a good bit of that early thunder. 
It was obvious he meant business because he was wearing running shoes. 
Better still, he ditched (along with the Armani threads) the soft- rock jingles that made him the most hated man in rock next to Sting, and spent most of the night revisiting his hoochie-coochie roots. 
The man is finally coming to his senses, as evidenced by his most recent release, "Me and Mr. Johnson." It's made up entirely of covers of songs composed in 1936 by Delta blues king Robert Johnson, who quite convincingly sold his soul to the devil before he passed away. 
That's more like it. 
With a seven-piece touring band that includes slide guitarist Doyle Bramhall II, bassist Nathan East, drummer Steve Gadd and keyboardists Chris Stainton and Billy Preston (who played with both the Beatles and the Stones), plus a pair of back-up singers, Clapton gave much-needed creative resuscitation to his signature tunes like Bob Marley's "I Shot the Sheriff" and J. J. Cale's "Cocaine." But those were just tossed out to appease the fans. 
At the heart of the show was not the staggering 20-minute tear through "Got to Get Better in a Little While" -- although that was a close second -- but the concert-within-a-concert in which Clapton turned the lights down low and pulled out a chair to run through five wild-eyed Johnson covers, including "They're Red Hot" and "If I Had Possession Over Judgment Day." 
For a moment, it was easy to forgive him for that guest spot on Lionel Richie's "Dancing on the Ceiling." But not the Michelob commercial. 
Compared to young, feral interpreters of the blues like the White Stripes and Black Keys, Clapton still inevitably shows too much professional restraint to really inhabit the grimy, grungy world of authentic blues. But on Friday he came as close to redeeming his spotty reputation as possible. 
Besides, everybody knows the best bluesmen don't really hit their stride until the wife leaves and the Social Security checks arrive. Clapton could be well on his way. 
E-mail Aidin Vaziri at avaziri at sfchronicle.com. 


		
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