Eric Clapton Turns 63
The first (and I believe only) three-time inductee into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Eric Clapton, turns 63-years old today.
We’ll save for another day a discussion as to whether or not the R&R HoF knows fuckall about what they’re doing (they don’t) or whether or not Clapton actually stands head and shoulders above so many other artists (he doesn’t), because the story and contrubutions of Eric Clapton to the art form known as rock and roll are incontrovertible.
As a member of The Yardbirds, John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers, Cream, Derek & The Dominos, and on his own he has written, recorded, performed, and produced transcendent music that has dominated the charts, inspired fellow and future artists, and amazed and entertained audiences for over four decades. He isn’t as important or original as, say, The Beatles — although his guitar solo on George Harrison’s “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” is a magical part of the Fab 4’s recorded legacy — but his music is an inescapable thread in the fabric of 20th Century pop, rock, and blues.
Clapton is a strange artist for me because he’s been overhonored and overrated in some aspects of his career — he’s not a bluesman! Can we please all agree on this and move on — yet at the same times he seems to be something of an afterthought in some discussions. I guess this gets into the whole “talking about music is like dancing about architecture.” Clapton isn’t God, but he is great and great is great. How much energy do you really want to expend trying to split the greats into different categories and levels of sub-great? Academic discussions and attempts at analysis and comparison can be fun, insightful, and illuminating. They can also completely miss the point.
Happy Birthday, EC.
Filed under: Eric Clapton
