(100) Days of Soundtrack: #23 – Eric Clapton – Slowhand

Today is Eric Clapton’s birthday. I know this because he and I share one. It’s one of the few things we share: he’s a guitar god, and I’m a passable novice. He’s rich and famous, I’m broke and blogging. He’s old, I’m less old. He’s a bit of a prick and sources point to him being a virulent racist, I, well, hopefully less so? Among these things we’ve never shared, though, one thing which stands out is time together, his classic albums going through my ears. I only know Back Home cover to cover, and that’s because it was playing for a number of months when I worked at Barnes and Noble. Pathetic? Definitely. Let’s change this with a go-round through an album which would eventually give him an enduring nickname: 1977′s Slowhand.

As legend has it, the name “Slowhand” came from Clapton’s playing style, that he did not need to blaze through a solo but tended instead to take a more measured approach to his solos. This is perhaps no better illustrated than on one of his most famous tracks, “Wonderful Tonight,” which is included on this here album. “Wonderful Tonight” is one of the most misunderstood love songs ever, a track written as a silencing to his wife, who was, again, as legend says, continually late to events and would constantly need validation on her outfits. Again, a bit of a dick move, but framing that sentiment in a song which is otherwise the very blueprint for a schmaltzy romantic track borders on brilliant, dickish or not. Yeah, hon, honest, you look fine, can we get a move on? It’s a sentiment we all know, because we all know someone like this, whether a partner primping or a friend who never seems to have his shit together when it’s time to get a move on. Surrounding this, though, is a yearning, caressing guitar line. It’s like a slow hand touching one metaphorically, and it takes a slow, precise, gentle hand to coax that sort of feel out of a guitar. It’s one of Clapton’s best known songs, and notoriously overplayed, but still emblematic of some of what defines the man’s talent.

It’s interesting to hear some classics like this in their original context. The backing vocals in “Wonderful Tonight” don’t even register as anything particular alone, but put up against “Lay Down Sally,” one wonders how they never realized the two songs were album-mates. “Cocaine” is immediately an obvious choice for an opening track once you hear it lead off, but “Wonderful Tonight” seems sort of odd sandwiched between the rhythms of “Cocaine” and “Sally.” It’s equally interesting how the album is so front-loaded with the hits. It makes the rest of the album feel longer than expected, and it doesn’t help that the tired “ex lover threatening new lover” trope of “Next Time You See Her” is that immediate follow-up. It’s odd to hear songs like “May You Never” after starting with a trio of classics. Even ostensibly fine tracks, like the quiet “We’re All the Way,” don’t have enough oomph comparatively… the disconnect of those powerful beginnings against some of the bland tracks later on throws one off.

Want to know what else throws one off? When “The Core,” a song by a rock legend who goes by his own solo name, begins with an unknown female vocalist, instead of trading off the other way around. This is clearly the guitar centerpiece of the album. The main riff of the song is in and of itself the sort of riff a guitarist wants to play, and it’s made to vamp over, rarely straying from the tonic, and allowing Clapton to work around a non-moving target. You could tell this was going to be nine minutes of guitar the second you hear that riff, and really, the average listener probably welcomed it. The guitar is, after all, what we’re here for on a Clapton album, especially one named after his playing. Unsurprisingly, then, it is when the guitar is strongest that Clapton himself is strongest. “The Core” keeps the middle pulsing, but the equally guitar-centric “Mean Old Frisco,” with its guitar lines singing along with the vocals, pulls a strong ending out of the deal. Eric Clapton is, without a doubt, underrated for his vocals, but Slowhand reminds us that that doesn’t mean his vocals can save a song that isn’t well-served by his guitar. Even the relatively reserved closer, “Peaches and Diesel,” is all about that guitar, shining in a softer setting, but no less powerful for its beauty. “Peaches” is in many ways a spiritual cousin to both “Wonderful Tonight” as well as the outro to “Layla,” in some ways just a basic instrumental but in others elevating a certain mood… it operates as outro to the album, almost as opposite to how it begins as possible, and yet in rallying with a track like that, Clapton proves that just because the first songs were the big hits doesn’t mean it’s a fluke by the back end.

Once again, curiosity got the better of me and I listened to the full first disc of the “Deluxe” version of Slowhand. The second disc, and third for that matter, are live recordings, which are I’m sure fine, but not overly interesting to me. I’m interested in the songs chosen to augment a classic. Once again, I’m confused. “Looking at the Rain” is a particular disappointment after “Peaches and Diesel,” to me at least… why bother closing an album so well just to tack on some filler? The real killer is that, if one can tell the tracks on Slowhand are meant for the same album, one can also tell the bonus tracks don’t fit in. “Greyhound Bus” is both the best of the bunch and the one which is most like the album which precedes it, which doesn’t really recommend it so much as not damn it. As always, I recommend that if you’re in the market for this particular classic, hunt it down in the original tracklisting. That’s how an album was meant to be heard. It’s how you should be hearing it.