From The Cradle Interview

The following interview was conducted by John Pidgeon, with whom the copyright rests.

all along this path I tread,
my heart betrays my weary head,
with nothing but my love to save,
from the cradle to the grave ...

  "It was one of those things  -  you wake up in the middle of the night, run down­stairs and write it down. What it means, I think, is that the music I'm making he­re has been my motivation. It's the thing I've turned to, the thing that has given me inspiration and relief in all trials and tribulations in my life".

So says Eric Clapton about the inspirations for his astonishing new Duck/­Re­pri­se Records release, From The Cradle. The music this artist evokes is, of cour­se, the blues, and from its opening track, From The Cradle is a moving and mo­nu­mental tribute to that most enduring of musical genres. Yet the sixteen tracks that comprise From The Cradle are far more than simply a tribute  -  they are an intense, involving and deeply felt reflection of a lifetime live affair be­tween a man and the music that he has come to call his own.

Produced by the artist and longtime collaborator Russ Titleman, From The Cradle is the first new release from Eric Clapton since 1992's Unplugged, which has sold over fourteen million copies worldwide to date and contains the pla­tinum single Tears In Heaven (the Grammy-winning version appears on the soundtrack Rush). "I think Unplugged helped a great deal in terms of a certain re­discovery security in myself", remarks Eric Clapton on the subject of that ex­tra­ordinary acoustic offering. "It freed me up to a certain extend. But, to make this record about my blues influences and upbringing, well, it's much more me than Unplugged was".

Eric Clapton's "influence and upbringing" are a matter of music legend. Born on March 30, 1945, he was raised in Ripley, Surrey. As a teenager, the pop music of the era failed to move him and he was drawn to such blues masters as Big Bill Broonzy, Robert Johnson, Muddy Waters and Sonny Boy Williamson. Jam­ming in pubs and clubs, Eric soon joined the Yardbirds, a group destined for com­mercial success and widespread imitation. But even this blues-inspired group took what Clapton considered an artistic detour and he left the band in 1965. Seeking a purer avenue to the blues, he briefly joined John Mayall & the Blues­breakers.

It was in 1968 when Clapton made it into the international spotlight when he form­ed Cream with Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker, a group that displayed his po­tential, extended guitar improvisations and fashioned a body of vastly in­fluen­tial original music, including the hits White Room, Strange Brew and Sun­shine Of Your Love.

Cream folded two years later when Clapton left to form Blind Faith with Steve Win­wood, Rick Grech and Ginger Baker. The group lasted a year before Clap­ton once again followed his music muse, first recording his debut solo album in 1970 and then joining forces with the American team of Delaney and Bonnie. It was then that he began to actively develop his vocal skills, even while per­fec­ting the state of rock guitar, as part of Delaney and Bonnie & Friends. That pro­cess continued with Derek and the Dominos where, in the company of Duane All­man, he fashioned such enduring classics as Layla (which resurfaced again in a new version on the above mentioned Unplugged).

The early and mid-seventies was a time during which Clapton struggled and e­ventually succeeded in overcoming a dependence on drugs, even as he con­tinu­ed his solo career with such landmark recordings as 461 Ocean Bou­le­vard, Another Ticket, Money And Cigarettes, Behind The Sun and August, each further enhancing his reputation as one of the generation's premier song­wri­ters and performers. A 1988 box set retrospective, Crossroads, was one of the most popular compilations ever released and was followed by SRO tours from Africa to South Africa, Europe to Australia and everywhere in between.

Clapton ushered in his third decade of music making with 1990's Journeyman, which garnered his first Grammy for the single Bad Love. It was followed a year later by the momentous 24 Nights: Live at the Royal Albert Hall, chro­ni­c­ling his historic 1989 - 1990 concert stand. The 90's also saw Clapton's con­ti­nu­ed presence in soundtracks with contributions to such movies as Rush, Back To The Future, The Colour Of Money and Lethal Weapon 3 (comp­le­ting a creative association that included both previous Lethal Weapon sound­tracks).

Clapton's place in music history had long since been assured, but with the re­lea­se of Unplugged, his popularity took a quantum leap. Suddenly, rock's el­der stateman was as fresh and formidable a talent as the latest arrival from the grun­ge generation. It was a popularity build in large part on his stubborn ad­he­ren­ce to total musical integrity, which brought him, time and again, back to the ba­sics of the blues.

"With From The Cradle I'm really retracing my steps back to John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers", explains Clapton. "It's almost as if I'm going back to the jum­ping off point and now producing my own blues band". That band includes bass­ist Dave Bronze, drummer Jim Keltner, guitarist Andy Fairweather Low, har­monica player Jerry Portnoy, keyboardist Chris Stainton, and The Kick Horns, highlighting Roddy Lorimer on trumpet, Simon Clarke on baritone sax and Tim Sanders on tenor sax.

"The bones at this thing", Clapton continues, " is coming from inside me and my need to pay back all these people that I heard from Day one. I want to emulate and pay back and say thank you".

Those whom Clapton pays tribute on From The Cradle includes such blues gu­rus as Robert Johnson, Lowell Fulsom, Elmore James, Willie Dixon and the in­imitable Muddy Waters. "Muddy's songs have been the hardest", Clapton ad­mits. "His music was the first that got to me and it remains some of the most im­por­tant music in life today. I love this man so much that I want to do it absolutely per­fectly and, of course, that's not possible".

"From The Cradle is 'me' in terms of my musical identity", Clapton avows. "It's whe­re I've come from and what I mean. And wherever I go in the future will be the result of this". In the process of rediscovering his roots, Eric Clapton, on From The Cradle has made his own enduring contribution to the blues.

From The Cradle  ·  Eric Clapton & his Band

Released: September 1994
Label/no.: Reprise 9362-45735-2 (CD)
Recorded: Olympic Studios, Barnes, London
Producer(s): Eric Clapton and Russ Titelman
Engineer(s): Alan Douglas (Alex Haas: How Long Blues)
Ass. engineer(s): Giles Cowley, Julie Gardiner
Mixed:    Russ Titelman, Alan Douglas
Lineup:  Eric Clapton: g, vo; Dave Bronze: b; Jim Keltner: dm; Andy Fair­weat­her Low: g; Jerry Portnoy: hca; Chris Stainton: keyb; Roddy Lorimer: tp; Simon Clarke: brs; Tim Sanders: ts; Richie Hayward: perc (How Long Blues)
Remarks: Recorded live in the studio with no overdubs or edits except for dobro  o­verdub on How Long Blues and drum overdub on Motherless Child.
Horns arranged and played by The Kick Horns.

Motherless Child  ·  Eric Clapton & his Band
Released: September 1994
Label/no.: Reprise 9362-41834-2 (CD single) [09.1994]

Eric Clapton Interview by John Pidgeon

The album title  -  From The Cradle  - pretty much sums it up, as far as Eric Clap­ton and the blues are concerned?

It's part of a little poem that I came up with  -  one verse which says, "All along the path I tread / My heart betrays my weary head / With nothing but my love to save / From the cradle to the grave". And it was one of those things you wa­ke up in the middle of the night and run downstairs and write it down  -  I didn't know what it meant  -  and I just thought this was very applicable. And I thought I would abbreviate it to From The Cradle for this album, but I'll put that verse on the cover if that all goes to plan, and what it means, I think, is that the music that I'm making here has been my motivation for all of my life really. It's the thing I've turned to, the thing that has given me inspiration, and relief, you know. In all of the trials and tribulations of my life I've always had this incredible se­cure place to go to with the blues, and this is the first testament to that that I've ever made really on my own, and it's quite scary, but at the same time it's a­bout time too, it's long overdue.

So why has it taken so long? Were you concerned that your fans wouldn't want to hear an entire album of blues? And what's given you the confidence to think this is what you really want to do  -  and that you'll get away with it?

I think Unplugged helped a great deal  -  age, a certain amount of re­dis­co­ver­ed security in myself, but I think you still need to, no matter how you feel about your­self, no matter how I feel about me, I still needed to see results, I still need­ed some kind of exterior proof, and Unplugged was definitely that, in that when I look at that as a body of work my perfectionism says it's not good enough, you know, and it's just me, it's very basic me, and therefore it's not good enough by me reckoning of myself. And my terrible low self-esteem says "You can't put this out", and I was very much against it going out as anything other than a li­mi­ted edition. So when it did well, and when it did phenomenally well, I was very sur­prised and, of course, very pleased, and it freed me up to a certain extent  -  I'm not saying that I'm completely different and changed by this experience, but I'm willing to take the gamble based on that evidence of saying, "Well that was me in one respect, but this is really, really me". To make this record about my blues influence and my upbringing is much more me than Unplugged was in a way. Even Unplugged was fairly lightweight in terms of revealing my inner self. This is much more like it. And also I suppose I've just kind of gone over that bump in terms of life experiences. I'm not really that concerned any more about ma­king it, I suppose. I'm quite relaxed about what the result of this will be. It may not do as well as some of us would hope, and that will not be the end of me, but I just feel the need to do it.

And is it because of that feeling that you've been so involved in the recording? Is this the first album since No Reason To Cry that you've Co-produced?

Well, I suppose, yeah, it is. No Reason had no one at the helm whatsoever un­til the last minute, and then really Rob Fraboni became the curator of the whole thing. Unplugged in a sense was produced by Russ, but it was the same sort of thing  -  it was produced on the floor by the band and me, and this one is a co-production with Russ again, because I love work with Russ and he has ac­cess to this stuff (the console etc.) that I don't. But really the bones of the thing a­re coming from inside me and my need to pay back the tribute to all these peop­le that I heard from day one  -  from the cradle to the grave, really  -  that I want to emulate and pay back and say thank you to, and I'm actually trying as hard as I can to replicate what they did, but it still comes out as me, which is the beauty of the whole exercise, because I used to think that pure imitation was not good enough, but of course there is no such thing, and I'm finding that out, and as close as I try and get to the original, it still sounds like me doing it, which is really what I'm most happy about.

Can you still remember the feeling when you first heard something that you could call the blues and made that connection with it? Can you remember how it made you feel?

Yes, and I still feel that way. The transition took place a long time ago when all of this stuff became available, but when it was a real rarity, when any kind of soul music was rare, the merest glimpse of a Do Diddley or Chuck Berry would send me into frenzies of delight, so when I heard what was behind that  -  I mean, that was like the front scenery of what I was to later discover, and when I found the stuff that was behind it that made that come into being, you know, the Mud­dy Waters and beyond that the Robert Johnson and beyond that the work song, it did something to me emotionally for sure, but there was something much deeper going on which I cannot define at all and probably never will be ab­le to. And on the surface, and even slightly below the surface, it moves me to the core, and I'll get that even listening in my car or wherever today  -  exactly the same as I did when I was a small bay  -  and I don't know what it is. I don't want to be too glib in summing that up, because there are ways to identify it on a very surface level  -  to say that it's, you know, the sound of suffering that I could identify with because of a strange upbringing, you know, all of that stuff can apply, but I don't know if I really care to make that the end explanation any more.

When you found out about Robert Johnson, did that amplify your feeling for his mu­sic? The fact that he died when he was twenty seven and had lived that kind of blues life, did it affect the way you heard his music?

Of cause. As a young man I was very excited by risk and drama, and so, even though I found that stuff out later, as you said, it amplified and it heightened the ex­perience of listening to him and the identification that I got out of it, because at the age of eighteen I didn't expect to live beyond twenty-five, you know, and when I did I was very surprised, and now it's amazing that I'm forty-nine and still feeling the same way. But I don't think that's important. I think that's to be ex­pected in a way, and actually it's fine, it's part of the whole picture.

I think we have the choice of how we spend our time with this, whether we want to spend our time enjoying it or analyze it, and for me it's a better experience to just leave it and take it for what it is than to spend hours and hours and hours try­ing to pick the whole thing apart really and say, "Well, what is this in me that re­sponds to that and why and where did it begin?" because I'll probably get it wrong, and it doesn't matter really.

Do you think the way you've stripped down your live performance has helped your approach to making this album?

Yes, and it's been a long process, and it's taken a lot of courage from me to go back. I'm really tracing my steps back to John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers, and there was a stage there, when I was with that band, having come from a pop band, which had started as a blues band  -  the Yardbirds  -  to go to John May­all, and then, when I was leaving John Mayall, in my head I was going to an e­ven more hardcore blues situation, which backfired. Although it came out to be a great hybrid, it wasn't my intention to go that way. And now what I'm doing is I'm going back to that jumping off point. It's almost like I'm just leaving John May­all now, and I'm producing my own blues band, and it's taken me thirty years of meandering round the back streets to get there. And I don't know why, I don't know why, I just always felt very afraid of being true to myself, and I think that's quite normal in a way, I think everybody is  -  I'm not unique in that  -  but right now I want to do it, and I have this funny feeling that I don't know how long it'll last. Sometimes I come in here  -  we've been making this album on and off for quite a few months  -  and sometimes I come in  -  and today I was listening in the car to Steve Winwood's Back In The High Life album, and thinking, "This album is great", but I'm kind of stuck in this blues thing now and I've got to see it through, and I wonder how long I can do it. And it may be that I'll just stay he­re. Maybe that's all right for me just to stay doing this, because it's what I do best, and let other people do something else, but I've always thought that I had to identify with so many other people that I had to be  like them as well and take so­me of what they had and mould it into me, and now I've shed all that, as much as I can, and I'm just being myself  -  and maybe it'll be enough. Maybe it is.

How did you come up with a shortlist of songs for the album? There are so ma­ny to choose from.

We kept adding them on. The band are always coming up with, "We haven't tri­ed this", and I'll go, "Well, actually that is a great song, but it didn't do anything to me in my life", and I don't know that there's any synchronity of events or a­ny­thing involved, it's just simply that some songs performed by Muddy Waters mean more to me that others, some songs by Howlin' Wolf mean more, and of cour­se then the other part of it is how accessible is it for me to do? And I've found that it's impossible for me to sing a Howlin' Wolf song on record, and for me to be convinced about it at the end of the day, unless I change it so much that it's just not me doing a Howlin' Wolf song, but then you lose something, be­cau­se sometimes the songs aren't strong enough without his actual presence, so a lot of them are combinations of what they meant to me from the time I first heard it  -  and like you said, I still get that feeling when I hear the song, when I start to do it  -  and what I'm able to bring to it, how much of it is adaptable to be mine.

When I listen to these songs, I go away (LAUGHS)  -  and I like going away, I still like going away to music, and these things do it to me better than anything el­se. And on my way to the studio this morning  -  I get so excited about coming to the studio every day and then I had to remember that I wasn't going to be ab­le to play right away, and it's hard, because it's like a fix to me. It's still a fix for me to come here, have a band of musicians  -  I mean, generally speaking, I walk through that door on the other side of the room, pick up my guitar, and we'll start work. I don't come in here and have a cup of coffee and chat about what was on television last night, I can't waste my time. I want to get in there and get going. And that's about what happens to me when I play and when I lis­ten, and that music did it to me from the age of six, seven, eight years old.

Do you ever still feel dogged by that tedious question  -  "Can white men sing the Blues?"  -  or did you resolve that to your satisfaction a long time ago?

I definitely think we can't. (LAUGHS) I try my hardest to save my life to sing the blues, but I don't think I can do it half as well as an American black man from the South. There's no doubt about it. And that's another thing  -  don't ask me why, I don't know why, but for me it takes a great deal of studying and discipline to sing the blues and for a black guy from Mississippi it seems to be what they do when they open their mouth without even thinking. I don't like being racial a­bout it, but it's there, isn't it? It's there. And I don't know why  -  me  -  I've been se­lected to do this, and I can't do anything else really. It's not that I can't, per­haps I could, but I don't want to do anything else. I don't want to be a chartered ac­countant. I worked on a building site when I was a young man. I don't want to be a builder. I didn't find that fulfilling. But I do find this fulfilling, and I do love it, so I want to do it, and I know that I have to work very hard to get it right, so the only kind of answer I can give to that question is, "Well, we can, but not as well as".

Was it important to you to receive the approval of the people whose music you we­re playing? To know that they appreciated what you were doing?

That's almost the same as when you know you've played a really bad gig and so­meone comes and says, "You were fantastic tonight", and you go, "Yeah, thanks very much", and inside you're going, "No, I wasn't  -  what do you know a­bout it? You weren't out there". There is an element of that in there. Because I don't know that it's any of my business what those people's motives were when they said  -  you know, when Muddy said to me I was like a son to him. I don't know what he meant by that. I appreciated it and I took it, and I made it mine, but I don't know what his motives were, and I don't want to know either. It's e­nough that I had that said to me, and it made me feel good, but I still didn't feel a­ny more secure about my ability to do the job. I know we go back to that thing a­bout I can sing the blues  -  I am qualified to sing the blues, because of what has happened to me, but I still don't think I'll ever do it as good as a black man. And there's racial overtones in that, I'm afraid, but that's the way it is. I'll do my best, but that's all I can do.

You touched on something that I was going to bring up, which was that when you're performing blues, it's like, say, when you hear Robert Johnson or Muddy Wa­ters, you can't actually imagine them doing anything else, you can't imagine them being an actor or a carpenter or whatever. And I feel that when you're play­ing the blues  -  that that's what you do, that's what you are.

Yeah. Maybe I fit that picture better than most, because I think there are a lot of  mu­sicians that can touch on other areas. I can't. I have tried to play folk music, play country and western music, play even jazz, and a lot of pop music, but I don't do it very well. I do this best, and that's been given to me to do, and as much as I've questioned it and railed against it and been stubborn about my path, I'm back on it, for better or for worse, and I think I'm happier doing this. I'm definitely in place.

If you look at an Eric Clapton discography, the blues has always been there. So­metimes it's a thin tread, but it's unbroken.

Well, I used to think that I could make any kind of music, but the guitar playing would always be blues. If I took a solo, I would always make sure that I could find some place to put the blues in, so I knew, even if nobody else did, that I still had one foot on the path  -  and the rest of me could be anywhere else. But it is funny that  -  and now really we're back to square one.

Is there a key song on the album? Or do they work as a group of songs?

Well, we're still in a flux really. There have been songs that we recorded in the last batch of sessions, which was in February, there were songs that we did then  -  or March rather  -  some songs I just couldn't listen to anything else. And then we did Eddie Boyd's song, Third Degree; which just blew everyone a­way for a little while, and some of them have been so accessible  -  we listened to that, we listened to his recording of it, and we went out there and we did it in two takes, it was just easy. And I've always loved Reconsider Baby, the Lowell Ful­son song, and that was the same, it was just so easy. And then yesterday we did the Ray Charles song called Sinner's Prayer, which is fantastic, and I did­n't think I could ever do this song, because vocally it's very very dynamic, it looks like a very hard song to sing, and we did it very quickly. And I think the o­nes that actually mean the most are those, funnily enough  -  a bit like when peop­le have asked me about song writing in the past and which songs have meant the most, the ones that have meant the most to me over the years are the ones that are the easiest to write, like Wonderful Tonight, and that was the most successful because it just fell out. And when I've done some of these songs, like Third Degree or Reconsider Baby, the ones that mean the most a­re really the ones that were easiest to do, when they sounded like they wouldn't be.

And I've found, funnily enough, that Muddy's songs have been the hardest. The hard­est. And he meant a great deal to me and his music still does mean prob­ab­ly more than anybody else's, and I don't know why. It was the first really that got to me, and it still is the most important music in my life today, is the music of Mud­dy Waters, and it's been the hardest for me to try and emulate or to cover. And of all of them I've chosen the hardest, which is Hoochie Coochie Man, and we've done it dozens of times, and to most people it probably sounds all right, but to me it just is not good enough, and so we do it again and again and a­gain. And I don't know what that is. It's some kind of perfectionism in me that I lo­ve this man so much that I want to do it absolutely perfect, and of coarse that's not possible.

Just to say the words Hoochie Coochie Man, there's some kind of mystery and magic in that, that requires you to be from Mississippi in a way, to even know what it means, so there's a lot of gusto or a lot of kind of bravado required of me to even consider doing a song like that. When I've approached Muddy's re­pertoire I've always gone for the less well-known songs. I've done Blow Wind Blow and I'm doing Standin' Round Crying, you know, things that are not necessarily that well known to his audience, but Hoochie Coochie Man is li­ke the crown jewels, isn't it? I mean, don't go near this song, don't anybody go near this song. Why am I doing it? It's like in the lion's den with this one.

It's interesting that you've done Eddie Boy's Five Long Years, because there's a version of it on the very first Yardbirds album, which you recorded thirty years a­go.

Oh my god, you're right. Five Live Yardbirds  -  it's on there, isn't it, yeah. And I wondered why I was so well acquainted with that song (LAUGHS). It's been a­round in my life a lot. And we've done a very good version of that. It came out in­credibly well. And these sessions have been about that sort of thing. That ver­sion was something I did as an alternative. We were working on something el­se one day and I said "This is going nowhere, let's just do something else", and we launched into that version of Five Long Years and it was breathtaking. Russ came out of the control room, walked across the floor, and his face was all red and he couldn't talk, he was shaking his hands like this, he was beside him­self. It very rarely happens in a recording studio where you get that good  -  just in one take anyway. And I was on my tiptoes. I was playing with such anger and ferocity I could hardly stay on the ground. And every now and then that hap­pens. These sessions have been like that. We'll be doing something, and I'll just go, "Look, this is going nowhere, let's do this". And I like that way of work­ing, and I wouldn't be able to do that if we were making another kind of al­bum, so this has to be this way.

How live has the album been recorded?

Completely live. We've got one song, which is an old Barbeque Bob song, re­cord­ed in 1927, called Motherless Child, which I'm overdubbing some second-li­ne drums on Jim Keltner has overdubbed a little bit of a New Orleans march­ing drum thing on it. That's the only thing that I've allowed to be retouched. E­ve­ry­thing else is on the floor in one take. And some things, as I've said, like Hoo­chie Coochie Man, we've done every day for nearly six month, and (LAUGHS) we'll do it once or twice and then we'll say, "Yeah, it's good, but we'll get it better tomorrow", and we'll go away, but we do everything live, so if one per­son makes a mistake, we all have to do it again or we accept that mistake. And it's a wonderful process of working, because it means for a start the hours a­re short, because no one can go on too long on that basis. We come in at a­bout 11.30 and we work till four or five. It's like playing a very long concert then. And there's no hanging around. We don't sit around and deliberate whether a­ny­one should overdub there or whether ... It's not a time-consuming thing. We get to the bones of the matter straight away, and then when we're tired, we stop.

And From The Cradle is saying, "This is real me"?

Yes, I think so. I think so. Not in a songwriters sense. This probably as close as we're going to get to that right now, and it may be that the next album will be me from this platform, but this is me in terms of my musical identity today  -  whe­re I come from and what I mean, and wherever I go in the future will be as re­sult of this.

You've said this was the album you could've or should've made nearly thirty years ago.

It's what I intended to do after the Yardbirds, before John Mayall, here was a pe­riod when this was the album I would've made, except I wouldn't have had the gift  -  I maybe would've had the gift, but I wouldn't have had the technique to do it. I would've collapsed. And I don't know if I could ever have done it be­fo­re now actually  -  with the right amount of determination. It took a lot of de­ter­mi­nation to finish this, because I knew there'd be some resistance to it. Al­though people have said, "When's he going to make a blues album?", I knew that when it came out they'd be, "Oh, fucking hell a blues album", (LAUGHS) and there's going to be that, and I've had to be aware of those demons in my own head, you know, that this can get boring just playing blues, because it's much more seductive to me to pick up guitar and start playing a pretty melody and think about it being a hit song that will melt people's hearts and make them cry. That's not what this about. And that's very seductive and commercial too, and that's a very easy road for me to go down, and it's people pleasing: how do I get into their hearts, how do I make them love me with this one?

Over the years you've recorded more songs by Robert Johnson than any other blues­man. Were you aware from the start how important he was to you?

Yeah, oh yeah. I knew from the day I heard the album maybe the second or third time which was when I was sixteen or seventeen, that I'd come to the end of the road really. In a very short amount of time I'd gone from the Kalin Twins through Buddy Holly, Elvis, Carl Perkins, Eddie Cochran, into Chuck Berry, Bo Didd­ley, Muddy Waters, Elmore James, Big Bill Broonzy, and back finally to Ro­bert Johnson  -  and that's where the road ended. There was no deeper you could dig. There is deeper you can dig, but it doesn't have a personal form. You can go into work song and you can go into unaccompanied field hollers or gos­pel stuff  -  you know, early, early early unformed hybrids or the beginning of the hybrids, which is what Alan Lomax has made such a life's work of doing, put­ting it all together, and then you go back to the English and European thread and then you go back to the African thread, if you want to keep digging and digging. But Robert Johnson to me was the embodiment of when it came in­to belonging to one person. It belonged to him. He made a way of making this hy­brid all his, even more than Charlie Parker or any of the other guys around, he summed it up and became big time. He was big, and I suppose even then he must've been big among his own, but in the years that passed, it just seem­ed that he grew and grew all the time in status.

Doing an album of covers is usually a sign of marking time, but it's obviously not in this case, is it?

The Q magazine review said, "Oh, we all know he's got a writers block". The­re's one way of missing the point. In fact, I haven't, I've got tons of fucking songs. When I've come to the point of doing this album, I've had to shelve so much  -  songs that I was still working on to do with death of my son. When I got into that thing with the acoustic guitar, it could never stop. I was saying "Should we do an Unplugged 2?". And the record company said, "No, you can co­me back to that later  -  you've got all that material, you can do that later". They were actually quite keen for me to be doing a rock album with Robbie (Ro­bertson), and that's what I was going to do, and so there were songs al­rea­dy stockpiling from that, that me and Robbie had been working on. There's no wri­ter's block  -  I wouldn't mind a writer's block now! I'm very prolific. What hap­pened was I fell in love with this, I was committed to this, and I wanted to fin­ish it and say "This is the one I've been meaning to do all these years, and this is one that a lot of you have been saying, 'Where is it?'. Well, here it is". And maybe I'll stay here for a while. I don't know. But what I've found is when I'm not playing the blues totally full time my experience of it and my ability to play it is decreased. If I'm playing songs from Journeyman like No Alibis or Pre­tending or White Room or whatever it would be from the catalogue of my rock albums, I have to find a way to get the blues playing in there somehow, but what it is, it's kind of rock orchestral music. It's very structured chordal com­po­si­tion stuff, and my ability to play decreases. What I'm finding here, doing this stuff, is I'm playing better, because I'm in tune with who I really am or where I real­ly wanted to go when I started. I liked the Kalin Twins and my first record was the Kalin Twins' When, but I didn't want to be in the band. I wanted to be in Fred­die King's band or Buddy Guy's band, that's the band I wanted to be in  -  the real thing. I didn't want to be in a white rock band, I didn't want to be in a black rock band, I wanted to be in a black blues band, so if I stay here for a whi­le, it's for a definite purpose.

For this blues show to work well for you, it must be important that audiences know what they're coming to see, so they don't start shouting for Layla or Tears In Heaven?

Yeah. I don't know what to do about that. There's nothing I can do about that. It's a nice problem in a way, isn't it, because it means I can go back to that pla­ce if I want to some day. It's always there, but I think if I stay at this for a little whi­le longer, it'll become acceptable, and I need to find a place where I can go with it, you know. It's not just enough now to do the songs, the blues songs. I real­ly want to stay with this vein and find what I can expand out of it, or maybe I can turn it into a club act. I don't know. I've got to go into it a bit more, I've got to give it some life  - let it grow a bit.

"Nothing But The Blues" Tour 1994 - 95

Canada & USA - Arena Tour, Autumn 1994

Band lineup:

Eric Clapton: g, vo; Dave Bronze: b; Chris Stainton: keyb; Andy Fairweather Low: r-g; Andy Newmark: dm; Jerry Portnoy: hca; The Kick Horns: Roddy Lo­ri­mer: tp; Tim Sanders: ts; Simon Clarke: bs.

Opening Act:

Jimmie Vaughan And His Band

Set list taken from:

Motherless Child  /  Malted Milk  /  How Long Blues  /  Kidman Blues  /  County Jail Blues  /  Forty Four Blues  /  Blues All Day Long  /  Goin' Away  /  Standin' A­round Crying  /  Hoochie Coochie Man  /  It Hurts Me Too  /  Blues Before Sun­rise  /  Third Degree  /  Reconsider Baby  /  Sinner's Prayer  /  Can't Judge No­body  /  Someday After A While  /  I'm Tore Down  /  Have You Ever Loved A Wo­man  /  Crosscut Saw  /  Fi­ve Long Years  /  Born Under A Bad Sign   /  Groa­ning The Blues  /  Cross­road Blues  /  Let Me Love You Baby  /  Ain't No­bo­dy's Business

Encores: Sweet Home Chicago  (with Jimmie Vaughan: g)

Tour dates and venues:

USA - Club Tour, Autumn 1994

Band lineup:

Eric Clapton: g, vo; Dave Bronze: b; Chris Stainton: keyb; Andy Fairweather Low: r-g; Andy Newmark: dm; Jerry Portnoy: hca; The Kick Horns: Roddy Lo­ri­mer: tp; Tim Sanders: ts; Simon Clarke: bs.

Set list taken from:

Motherless Child  /  Malted Milk  /  How Long Blues  /  Kidman Blues  /  County Jail Blues  /  Forty Four Blues  /  Blues All Day Long  /  Standin' Around Crying  /  Hoochie Coochie Man  /  It Hurts Me Too  /  Blues Before Sunrise  /  Third De­gree  /  Reconsider Baby  /  Sinner's Prayer  /  Can't Judge Nobody  /  Early In The Morning  /  Everyday I Have The Blues  /  Blackcat Bone  /  Someday After A While  /  I'm To­re Down  /  Have You Ever Loved A Woman  /  Crosscut Saw  /  Five Long Years  /  Groaning The Blues  /  Crossroad Blues

Encores: Let Me Love You Baby  /  Ain't Nobody's Business

Tour dates and venues:

Europe, Spring 1995

Band lineup:

Eric Clapton: g, vo; Dave Bronze: b; Chris Stainton: keyb; Andy Fairweather Low: r-g; Steve Gadd: dm; Jerry Portnoy: hca; The Kick Horns: Roddy Lorimer: tp; Tim Sanders: ts; Simon Clarke: bs.

Opening Act:

Clarence Gatemouth Brown And His Band

Set list taken from:

Motherless Child  /  Malted Milk  /  From Four Until Late  /  How Long Blues  /  Kid­man Blues  /  County Jail  /  I'm Gonna Cut Your Head  /  Forty Four Blues  /  Blues All Day Long  /  Standin' Round Crying  /  Hoochie Coochie Man  /  It Hurts Me Too  /  Blues Before Sunrise  /  Third Degree  /  Reconsider Baby  / Sin­ner's Prayer  /  Bad Boy  /  Everyday I Have The Blues  /  Before You Ac­cuse Me  /  Double Trouble  /  Early In The Morning  /  Someday After A While  /  I'm Tore Down  /  Have You Ever Loved A Woman  /  Crosscut Saw  /  Five Long Years  /  Crossroad Blues  /  Groanin' The Blues

Encores:  Got My Mojo Working  /  Ain't Nobody's Business

Tour dates and venues:

USA, Autumn 1995

Band lineup:

Eric Clapton: g, vo; Dave Bronze: b; Chris Stainton: keyb; Andy Fairweather Low: r-g; Steve Gadd: dm; Jerry Portnoy: hca; The Kick Horns: Roddy Lorimer: tp; Tim Sanders: ts; Simon Clarke: bs.

Opening Act:

Clarence Gatemouth Brown And His Band

Set list taken from:

Motherless Child  /  Malted Milk  /  From Four Until Late  /  How Long Blues  /  Kid­man Blues  /  County Jail  /  I'm Gonna Cut Your Head  /  Forty Four Blues  /  Blues All Day Long  /  Standin' Round Crying  /  Hoochie Coochie Man  /  It Hurts Me Too  /  Blues Before Sunrise  /  Third Degree  /  Reconsider Baby  / Sin­ner's Prayer  /  Bad Boy  /  Everyday I Have The Blues  /  Before You Ac­cuse Me  /  Double Trouble  /  Early In The Morning  /  Someday After A While  /  I'm Tore Down  /  Have You Ever Loved A Woman  /  Crosscut Saw  /  Five Long Years  /  Crossroad Blues  /  Groanin' The Blues

Encores:  Got My Mojo Working  /  Ain't Nobody's Business

Tour dates and venues:

Japan, Autumn 1995

Band lineup:

Eric Clapton: g, vo; Dave Bronze: b; Chris Stainton: keyb; Andy Fairweather Low: r-g; Steve Gadd: dm; Jerry Portnoy: hca; The Kick Horns: Roddy Lorimer: tp; Tim Sanders: ts; Simon Clarke: bs.

Set list taken from:

Motherless Child  /  Malted Milk  /  From Four Until Late  /  How Long Blues  /  Kid­man Blues  /  County Jail  /  I'm Gonna Cut Your Head  /  Forty Four Blues  /  Blues All Day Long  /  Standin' Round Crying  /  Hoochie Coochie Man  /  It Hurts Me Too  /  Blues Before Sunrise  /  Third Degree  /  Reconsider Baby  / Sin­ner's Prayer  /  Bad Boy  /  Everyday I Have The Blues  /  Before You Ac­cuse Me  /  Double Trouble  /  Early In The Morning  /  Someday After A While  /  I'm Tore Down  /  Have You Ever Loved A Woman  /  Crosscut Saw  /  Five Long Years  /  Crossroad Blues  /  Groanin' The Blues

Encores:  Got My Mojo Working  /  Ain't Nobody's Business

Tour dates and venues:

ERIC CLAPTON & his Band

The Forum, Copenhagen, 11 April 1995

Eric Clapton (EC): Guitar, Vocal; Dave Bronze (DB): Bass Guitar; Steve Gadd (SG): Drums; Andy Fairweather Low (AFL): Guitar; Jerry Portnoy (JP): Har­mo­ni­ca; Chris Stainton (CS): Keyboards; The Kickhorns (KH): Roddy Lorimer: Trum­pet; Simon Clarke: Baritone Saxophone; Tim Sanders: Tenor Saxophone.

Motherless Child (Barbeque Bob)
EC (12-string acoustic), AFL, DB

Malted Milk (Robert Johnson)
EC (Martin 6-string acoustic), AFL

From Four Until Late (Robert Johnson)
EC (Martin 6-string acoustic), AFL

How Long Blues (Leroy Carr)
EC (dobro), AFL, BD, CS, SG

Kidman Blues (Big Maceo Merryweather)
EC (blonde Gibson Birdland), AFL, BD, CS, SG

I'm Gonna Cut Your Head (Homar Harris)
EC (blonde Gibson Birdland), AFL, BD, CS, SG, JP

Forty Four Blues (Chester Burnett (Howlin' Wolf))
EC (brown sunburst Gibson ES-175), AFL, BD, CS, SG, JP and Simon Clarke on the BIG drum

Blues Leave Me Alone (James Lane)
EC (white Fender Stratocaster), AFL, BD, CS, SG, JP

Standin' Round Crying (McKinley Morganfield (Myddy Waters))
EC (black Fender Stratocaster - slide), AFL, BD, CS, SG, JP

Hoochie Coochie Man (McKinley Morganfield (Myddy Waters))
EC (white Fender Stratocaster), AFL, BD, CS, SG, JP

It Hurts Me Too (Elmore James)
EC (blonde Gibson Birdland - slide), BD, CS, SG

Blues Before Sunrise (Leroy Carr)
EC (blonde Gibson Birdland - slide), BD, CS, SG

Third Degree (Eddie Boyd, Willie Dixon)
EC (brown sunburst Gibson ES-335), AFL, BD, CS, SG, JP

Reconsider Baby (Lowell Fulson)
EC (brown sunburst Gibson ES-335), AFL, BD, CS, SG, KH

Sinner's Prayer (Lowell Glen, Lowell Fulson)
EC (brown sunburst Gibson ES-335), AFL, BD, CS, SG, KH

Everyday I Have The Blues (Memphis Slim)
EC (white Fender Stratocaster), AFL, BD, CS, SG, KH

Early In The Morning (trad. arr. eric Clapton)
EC (white Fender Stratocaster), AFL, BD, CS, SG, JP, KH

Before You Accuse Me (Elias McDaniel)
EC (white Fender Stratocaster), AFL, BD, CS, SG, JP, KH

Someday After A While (Freddie King, Sonny Thompson)
EC (cherry red Gibson ES-335), AFL, BD, CS, SG, KH

I'm Tore Down (Sonny Thompson)
EC (cherry red Gibson ES-335), AFL, BD, CS, SG, KH

Have You Ever Loved A Woman (Billy Myles)
EC (cherry red Gibson ES-335), AFL, BD, CS, SG, KH

Crosscut Saw (R. G. Ford)
EC (white Fender Stratocaster), AFL, BD, CS, SG, JP, KH

Five Long Years (Eddie Boyd)
EC (white Fender Stratocaster), AFL, BD, CS, SG, JP, KH

Crossroad Blues (Robert Johnson)
EC (white Fender Stratocaster), AFL, BD, CS, SG, JP, KH

Encore:

Ain't Nobody's Business (Porter Grainger, Everett Robbins)

            First EC, CS / EC (White Fender Stratocaster), AFL, BD, CS, SG, JP, KH

It Ain't Nobody's Business If I Do (Grainger, Robbins)

There ain't nothing I can't do,
or nothing I can't say.
Some folks will criticise me,
so I'm gonna do just what I want to anyway,
and don't care if you all despise me.

If I should take a notion,
To jump into the ocean,
it ain't nobody's business if I do, do, do, do.

If I go to Church on a Sunday,
and I shimmy down on Monday
it ain't nobody's business if I do, if I do.

And if my friend ain't got no money,
I'll say "Alright take all of mine honey",
it ain't nobody's business if I do, do, do, do.

And if I lend her my last nickel,
and it leaves me in a pickle,
well it ain't nobody's business if I do, if I do.

I would rather my gal would hit me,
than to haul right up and quit me,
it ain't nobody's business if I do, do, do, do.

I know that she won't call no copper,
if she get beat up by her papa,
it ain't nobody's business if I do,
Lord, no it ain't nobody's business, If I do.......