ME AND MR. CLAPTON

Another of my old writings dating back to 2010. This chronicles the development of my music preference for Eric Clapton. Mr. Slowhand has opened my mind to a wider variety of music, and has since been considered one of my main musical influence.

“Oh my darling, you are wonderful tonight.” It was the last line, sang by what seemed to me to be a drunken man, before a guitar solo broke loose on the radio. The song was in the regular play list of a station that strictly served songs that your mom and dad would love to hear. I would hear it a couple more times before I started asking who the drunken romantic singer was. The answer was Eric Clapton. Nothing was really special about him if you asked my classmates. It’s only me – the lad who would listen to that song, close his eyes, and even make a distinct facial expression as if he swallowed a good number of tamarind candies – it’s only me in class who knew about the old man. Fortunately, I was not alone in my quest to get to know Mr. Clapton.

The man soon turned me into an archaeologist looking for clues in a place that boasted of different noises and harmonies all at the same time. The next thing I know, I was in a pile of records that no youth had probably ever took notice before. The Cadillacs? Johnny Cash. Ray Charles. Chicago, The Chipmunks… Clapton. ERIC CLAPTON. I had a million dollar smile when an average lad wouldn’t even bother staring at the name unlike if it were his first lollipop. The Cream Of Clapton would be my first ever possession that bore the name of the old man who I only recognized in photos as a guitar slinger with properly trimmed hair and an overgrown 5 o’clock shadow. I finally had a record that played Wonderful Tonight, and probably other greats that flowed through the airwaves on long star-filled nights. Finally, I could play the record that could have possibly been a 70’s cruising theme. I WAS WRONG. The first sound I heard was not a caress to my ear. Right there and then, I met the divine goddess Layla. Her revelation was so sudden and intense that at first I refused to believe that it was of Mr. Clapton’s creative juice. That ultimately removed the cloak that hid the god that is Eric. Behold, I am innocent no more.

“Layla, you got me on my knees. Layla, I’m begging darling please. Layla, darling won’t you ease my worried mind.” It was the guitar god wailing and pleading to his lover to take him into her arms. Simple, yet effective. The song Layla was only one of the trademark hymns that the guitar virtuoso wrote during his prime. I believed that there was a mandate that required it to be included in every anthology companies would produce of the god. This was the time that I started turning my CD rack into my own holy grail that paid tribute to Eric. After all, he was hailed a god during the so-called British Invasion in music history. Reading, listening, reading, listening. Those were the times that I discovered more about the god, and more about his music. Texts stated that he was the offspring of the titans that dominated the Pre Rock ‘n’ Roll Era with their blues. Before him reigned the three glorious kings – Freddie King, Albert King, and B.B. King – each of them leaving something significant to the boy who would rise up and become the god. In the end, I found out that these kings did not make such a big impact on Eric compared to the devil himself – Robert Johnson, the father of rock ‘n’ roll.

As a musician and music lover, Eric did not limit himself from listening to other players beside Robert Johnson. He incorporated so many ideas in his style that it made him into a fine blues rocker. His career would span from The Yardbirds, Cream, Derek and the Dominos, Blind Faith, to Live Aid, and Crossroad Festival. Like him and because of him, I was open to many other musicians, especially his contemporaries. I started listening to Jimi Hendrix and Stevie Ray Vaughan, just to name a few. These are the players that accompany Eric in the league of hall of famers. There were so many distinctions between them – from their guitar attacks, lifestyle, and preference of guitars – but in the end, they all played one sound, they all played the blues.

“I went down to the crossroads; fell down on my knees. I asked the Lord above for mercy; take me if you please.” The blues is indeed the type of music that has the power to step over every other genre you can name. Why so? This Black-American product has led the way to the sounds we know of today. Rock ‘n’ roll, rhythm & blues, jazz, funk, soul, disco, metal, reggae – imagine all of those sounding differently from what we know of them today because they did not have roots based on the blues. Though it is the root, many youngsters today take the blues for granted. Some even call it lame or old-fashioned; NOT ME. And who could not blame me for trying to walk in Eric’s foot steps in the road of blues? After all, we both started playing the guitar at almost the same age.

As an amateur, I really hoped I could develop some kind of similarity to his ability. I was even open to the concept of being Eric’s ultimate disciple. But somehow, I developed a different way of playing. I don’t get to play as frequently as him, and I don’t get enough exposure in public unlike the renowned bluesman. Another factor is the bluesmen and rockers I prefer to listen to. Jimi, Jimmy, and Stevie were not the folks my blues lord Eric grew up listening to. They were more like the elites that challenged Eric’s supremacy in the music scene. Eric gladly accepted the challenge in a never-ending guitar battle that lasted their entire career. I, however, treat these deviant musicians a bit differently. They got my attention with their tunes that stand out because of their own personal style. Some of them are now played as standards and anthems in various places. I soon realized that it’s not only Eric that I’m trying to follow. Having other musicians as well helps me build up my own unique taste – something each of them developed as well. I guess I can’t call myself Eric’s ultimate disciple anymore.

ERIC CLAPTON, The God, Mr. Slowhand, Eric Patrick Clapton, The First of The Guitar Heroes, The Armani-clad Bluesman, or whatever you call him – this man has surely influenced my life. His impact on me is more than just the aggressive guitar riffs and sought-after licks, and even more than his lines that I could use to pick up a beautiful lady in a bar. He would never ever be a legend if his influence to people would not go beyond his music. This is the question – What is his legacy to me? What he taught me was focus; never to let anybody bring me down just because they don’t see things the way I do. He did it by being the first man to bring the black blues to the white audience. He never let go of the idea that he could bring change in the way people see and treat other cultures. He also taught me to be a man of taste. Being a man of taste means that I could classify what is good music based from tone quality, composition, and message. But there is more to that concept. I learned that to be a man of taste, I should be careful of every decision I make in life. Therefore I should be able to identify the best options that life has to offer. There are easy options; there are hard options. All contribute to the overall flow of music in my life. Lastly – to be a man of top caliber. Eric kept on rehearsing for every performance he did. He also fought to get back on his feet when he fell due to drug abuse and alcoholism. Like him of course, I should be in tip-top shape in all the songs that I will perform in life’s main gig. I should be a stand out, the main rock icon, and yet be a man who is humble enough to look back at his beginnings.

This is my journey with Eric Clapton. And it does not stop here. I am here to rock…

FURTHER ON UP THE ROAD!