Eric Clapton: Clapton

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Eric Clapton’s nineteenth solo album is a largely anonymous collection of original songs intermixed with blues numbers and pop standards. Perhaps because its original concept–a double set consisting solely of covers–became diluted, it is not a particularly moving piece of work. But then Slowhand himself doesn’t sound all that moved very often during the course of its hour-plus playing time.

Eric Clapton has spent the better part of his solo career downplaying the role of guitar hero and he continues that campaign here. As he has done in the past, EC too often chooses to defer to others, in this case Doyle Bramhall II on “That’s No Way to Get Along” and Derek Trucks, whose slide playing on “Rocking chair” is a tasteful embroidery of the melody. And on “Travelin’ Alone,” the track just simmers for its duration never reaching a boiling point because no one, least of all Clapton, steps forward to turn up the heat on the ensemble playing.

Perhaps Clapton would do well to work with musicians other than these, like co-producer Bramhall, with whom he’s too comfortable.  The North Mississippi AllStars, for instance, might truly inspire him on the streamlined likes of “Hard Times Blues” or “Run Back to Your Side” where the background vocalists are superfluous, thereby detracting from the gutsiest performance on the disc.

Crooning as he does so lazily on Irving Berlin’s “How Deep Is The Ocean,” Clapton’s voice is immediately recognizable simply by his career longevity. And while there’s no denying Slowhand has become a serviceable singer over the years, he is by no means a truly stellar vocalist. As a result, a chestnut like “Autumn Leaves” sounds like nothing more than a mere oddity, particularly with its saccharine orchestral backing. On “River Runs Deep,” one of two J.J. Cale tunes here, the strings and horns aren’t particularly striking either, so such performances will do doubt leave most listeners wondering what meaning this material carries for Eric Clapton.

And therein lies the crux of the problem with EC’s solo career in general and this album in particular. With the magnificent anomaly of Derek & The Domino’s Layla, precious little of the work he’s done under his own name has been a deeply felt artistic statement in line with his status as a rock superstar. Boasting the presence of Wynton Marsalis and Allen Toussaint, Clapton does carry the distinction of impeccable craftsmanship, but without the famous name(s) attached to it, the album might not command much attention at all.

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