Clapton Autobiography Has Me Plugged In

Someone once said that when you write autobiographically about your pain, don’t just show the scab, but peel back that scab and probe the sore. The uncommon candor in the opening lines of Eric Clapton’s autobiography Clapton clued me in that he had been coached at the same school of writing: an autobiography ought to reveal, not conceal, those hidden recesses of the heart.

The book begins when Clapton was seven years old, telling how he came to recognize that he was an illegitimate child in a family with secrets. This is very different from finding out that there is no Santa Claus. For Clapton, art became a way to escape his pain, and later music (and substance abuse) serviced this same need.

The story of his experiences with John Mayall, Cream, Derek & the Dominoes, Blind Faith is written with what comes across as real humility. And with the vantage point of a man in his sixties, he relates how his own attitudes and excesses interfered with and even marred some of the high points of his fame.

For Clapton, it was all about the music. For this reason he was put off by anything that appeared to be a setup for “pop fame.” He just loved playing his guitar.

A friend of George Harrison’s, sometimes they would literally just get stoned and play for days and days. When he speaks with awe about being able to play with Delaney and Bonnie, you can tell it is genuine. It’s talent, not fame, that impressed Clapton in every stage of his life journey, hence his attraction to Steve Winwood, George Harrison, Greg Allman and others who were part of his life at different times.

When Clapton writes about the influence of Buddy Holly, the light finally went on for me and I finally “got it.” That is, I had never been that impressed with the way people seem to have gone ga-ga over Buddy Holly. I mean, he made a few songs, but they were not the greatest songs ever. He played rock ‘n roll music, but so did a lot of people.

Clapton saw Holly with different eyes than I because coming of age in the sixties I had already been exposed to the Kinks, the Animals, the Who, the Beatles. Clapton, in the fifties, was blown away when he saw that first Stratocaster electric guitar… and the black horn-rimmed glasses which put me off turned young Eric on. By that I mean, Clapton said to himself, “That’s me. He’s just another guy like me.” It was not pretty faces, but a guy with a guitar. The experience propelled Clapton into a life direction.

Personally I have enjoyed the book, including the insights into where some of the songs came from and the manner in which the various groups were formed with which he played. I totally related to the music of Cream and Blind Faith during my youth and still listen to those albums from time to time. Disraeli Gears was an incredible abum as was Wheels of Fire.

Not having been a groupie type who read all the fan zines, I found this book to be insightful and informative. Some of the reviews at Amazon.com are a little more cutting with one reviewer calling it “a terrible disappointment.” But for me, it is an autobiography up to the caliber of Steve Martin's Born Standing Up and Dylan's Chronicles: Volume One.

It’s been a great read thus far and because I am listening to the audio book, I can’t wait for my morning commute to the office here in a few minutes.