[Slowhand] Old Sock, no, no, I mean old Slowhand review

[Kevin Wilson]

Thought I'd share this amusing review of the Slowhand album that I cut from some or other magazine or newspaper, back in the day...

Slowhand Review by Monty Smith 


Outside of Cream, the only Eric Clapton album in my possession is the wonderful Decca cheapo, Blues World of … And it’s going to stay that way.
What was once an affectionate nickname ironically recognising Clapton’s supremacy in the Guitar Hero stakes has now been belatedly adopted as title for the latest in a series of lacklustre RSO recordings. And lacklustre is being kind on Slowhand - album, man and musicians.
Good bits first, naughty bits second. Both the adequate songs (all of ’em!)  appear on side two, by which time you’ve come to the conclusion that Slowhand is one to lie down and avoid. 
“The Core” co-written by Eric and Marcy Levy, is bolstered no end by Mel Collins’ guesting on sax. Clapton and Levy share/swap verse lead vocals over chug-a-lug riffing, and things really get cooking when EC’s loping guitar joins the fray on an extended break.  But ultimately, “The Core” is allowed to overstay its welcome (dispense more discipline Mr Johns, producer to the stars), and by the time Dick Sims starts doodling away on keyboards, not even Collins’ abrasively frenetic work can sustain attention.
The other half-decent track is the uncredited “Mean Old Frisco” (it’s alright, ma, I’m only avoiding royalties), a busy honky-tonk bar room piece which is fine if you drift with the spunky piano, spicy bottleneck and dirty low-down gee-tar.
The rest is almost too dreadful to contemplate, so hold your nose, here we go…
The lethargic version of “Cocaine”, opening, dispirited enough to make J.J. Cale’s original seem positively Ramonesish. “Wonderful Tonight”, following, is the first of two Clapton soap-operatic originals (the other is “Next Time You See Her”) on which he affects a mawkish catch-in-the-throat voice. Maudlin melodies and twee harmony vocals from the ladies complete the rout.
And what EC does to John Martyn’s lovely, tart-wish-you-well, “May You Never”, is unforgivable, a blancmanges mess with embarrassingly insipid vocals.
A turgid little instrumental, “Peaches and Diesel”, winds up the album in an appropriately insubstantial manner. Mellow is the euphemism. 
Dismal stuff. Come back Bernard Jenkins … please.