We're Going Wrong: New Twist on an Old Cream Classic

Sons of Cream, Newton Theater, August 16, 2024

Cream was one of the distinctive supergroups of the 60s. "We're Going Wrong" is a song that appeared on Disraeli Gears, their second album. From the time I first heard it I'd always interpreted it as a breakup song, about a person in a relationship that was going bad. The song's chorus is easily interpreted this way. "I found out today we're going wrong, we're going wrong."

* 

This past Friday evening my brother and I went to see Sons of Cream in Newton, New Jersey. It was an upbeat energetic concert featuring the sons of Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker, along with a nephew of  Eric Clapton performing music from the Cream catalog, one of these being "We're Going Wrong."

The song is a departure from the more blues-rock driven sound that characterized much of Cream's work. The lyrics are sparse, and the instrumentation captures a sense of introspective despair that resonates on a deeper emotional level with those who engage it. Here are the lyrics, followed by the new insight I gained in Newton.

We're Going Wrong

Please open your eyes.
Try to realize.

I found out today we're going wrong,
We're going wrong.

Please open your mind.
See what you can find.

I found out today we're going wrong,
We're going wrong.

We're going wrong.
We're going wrong.
We're going wrong.

* * * 

Newton NJ, August 16

Let's start with the music.

Musically, the song is built around a slow, brooding rhythm that complements the somber tone of the lyrics with a minimalist arrangement. Ginger Baker's drumming has the vibe of a swirling tidewater undercurrent, shifting from subtle haunting rhythms to intense crescendos that rise and recede again, mirroring the atmospheric emotions. Juxtaposed against the restrained guitar and basswork, the music generates tension which is followed by release like a receding tide. At various moments Clapton's guitar embellishes the interplay of the three artists so as to produce a sense of melancholy and unease, a perfect accompaniment for the lyrics.

 

The Lyrics  

Until this weekend I'd always interpreted "We're Going Wrong" as a break-up song, one in which one person in the relationship has had a realization which he or she is attempting to convey to the other person, a disturbing recognition of an unsettling truth.  

But what if it's something different, something internal, a flash of understanding about oneself?

If we separate the verses from the chorus, you get this message: "Please open your eyes," and "Please open your mind."

Who is talking to whom? From this angle, it could easily be a self-talk script. When wedded to the music we feel a sense of urgency and desperation, as if the speaker is pleading with oneself to wake up to an unsettling truth. The repeated phrase "We're going wrong" suggests a recognition that something has happened, though the specifics are left ambiguous. It's a vagueness that allows the song to take on multiple interpretations.

The simplicity of the lyrics emphasizes the emotional weight of the message. The use of direct appeals—"Please open your eyes" and "Please open your mind"—suggests that there is denial taking place.  

Philosophically there's a sense in which we're witnessing--hearing, seeing, feeling--an existential crisis. It may be an impending individual crack-up, a crumbling relationship, or even a societal collapse. As we engage the song all these possibilities open up to us.

 

* * *

Additional Details*
Pete Brown was the lyricist for all the songs on Disraeli Gears except this one, which was penned by Jack Bruce. Bruce's falsetto vocals and crooning-like singing were accompanied with a slow bass line and Eric Clapton's bluesy/psychedelic guitar melody. Ginger Baker used Timpani drum mallets rather than standard drumsticks on this song (as does Kofi Baker in his Sons of Cream shows). The 6/8 time signature also gave the song a distinct and irregular sound. however Baker’s drumming is often frenetic and fast paced, making it completely at odds with the rest of the instruments.

Here is the song.

Here's an alternate version from the BBC:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sSjQ8aUWCrc

* Wikipedia

Miscellaneous Thoughts in Response to the Film John McEnroe, In the Realm of Perfection

"Anyone for tennis, wouldn't that be nice?"
--Eric Clapton, Martin Sharpe

I enjoyed playing tennis when I was high school age and occasionally afterwords. It was just a large scale version of ping pong, requiring a bit more athleticism. It was good for amping your heartrate, required a bit of eye/hand coordination, psychology and even a measure of mathematics. (You know, getting the angles right.)

Considered a major sport, it was routinely covered in Sports Illustrated and ABC's Wide World of Sports. As a result, I became familiar with the leading names from that world of tennis including Arthur Ashe, Jimmy Connors, Bjorn Borg, Boris Becker, Ivan Lendl, and more recently Serena and Venus Williams, and the astonishing Roger Lederer.

In the middle of all these players was a singular tennis star whose rude, impertinent behavior set him apart from the rank and file tennis pros who projected class and style, John McEnroe. Yesterday I watched a documentary filmed at the finals of the 1984 French Open between John McEnroe and Ivan Lendl at a time when McEnroe was the world's top-ranked player. The title of the film is John McEnroe, In the Realm of Perfection.

To be honest, nearly all these elite players could probably be labelled as being "in the realm of perfection," so once you remove the glossy title, what you have here a lot of footage of an exceptional elite tennis player.

I didn't watch tennis on television when McEnroe was rising through the ranks. In fact, I've rarely watched television for most of my life, and when I heard tell of the superior skills of an exception athlete I sometimes went out of my way to see what people were talking about. Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods are examples of this behavior on my part. McEnroe actually wasn't. He was someone I read about.

Years later, while reading Tatum Oneal's tell-all life story A Paper Life--she was, at 10, the youngest Oscar winner in Hollywood history for her role in Paper Moon with her father Ryan Oneal--I learned that she had been involved with John McEnroe for a spell. The only anecdote I recall is that on one occasion he had a stash of cocaine in his vault which she was not supposed to have access to. While in Europe for a major tennis championship she managed to break into the vault and his stash disappeared up her nose. Ah, how the other half lives.

SPOILER ALERT

Actually, there's not much to spoil. The film is primarily the distillation of an ungodly number of hours of footage filmed by a French cinematographer. It's not a drama or a story, per se, though it does proceed along a path. If you're into tennis, or have ever been into tennis, you might find this a worthwhile venture. I will state here that my opinion of John McEnroe rose a couple notches, despite his pestering of umpires and line judges.

Here's the opening on one of four user reviews from Imdb.com:
John McEnroe: In the Realm of Perfection is the documentary we have waited a lifetime for: The titular tennis titan was photographed decades ago by cinematographer Gil de Kermadec but never so well displayed as in this perfect documentary by Julien Faraut using Kermadec's footage. Call it a "found footage" doc if you will.

My own notes while watching rambled along this line:
Athleticism and artistry, and extremely rude. Throws tantrums. Shows disrespect to judges. Feels that "everyone's against me." Does anyone love me? Will anyone love me? Art of camouflage. Extreme sensitivity. Fierce desire to win.

The footage was shot at the final match for the '84 French Open, McEnroe vs. Lendl. Lendl was a Czech-American tennis player who would eventually become #1 in the world for 270 weeks.

"This sport is kill or be killed. They don't bury you. They just forget you," McEnroe said.

The fact that this 2018 movie was released four decades after it was shot says something. McEnroe has not been forgotten. His listing on Wikipedia begins in this manner:

John Patrick McEnroe Jr. (born February 16, 1959) is an American tennis player. He was known for his shot-making artistry and volleying skills, and for confrontational on-court behavior that frequently landed him in trouble with umpires and tennis authorities.

McEnroe attained the No. 1 ranking in both singles and doubles, finishing his career with 77 singles and 78 doubles titles; this remains the highest men's combined total of the Open Era. He won seven Grand Slam singles titles, four at the US Open and three at Wimbledon, and nine men's Grand Slam doubles titles. His singles match record of 82–3 in 1984 remains the best single season win rate of the Open Era.

That last statement is actually quite remarkable. Strange how we only remember his "bad behavior." Could it be because the only way a majority of people experience tennis is by means of the media? Were sports journalists on his case because he didn't play by their rules? Or maybe the rules had changed and stars were no longer pre-packaged as heroes, but sold more papers and magazines when being reamed.

I enjoyed the film, in part because I had previously enjoyed the film Borg vs. McEnroe which I'd watched and written about after being so completely engrossed by David Foster Wallace's magically marvelous essay on Roger Federer.

* * * *

Just for the chuckles, check out this rare television moment with Cream singing "Anyone For Tennis."

Related Links
David Foster Wallace's magically marvelous essay on Roger Federer
10 Federer Moments

As You Said by Cream, in response to the passing of Philip Seymour Hoffman

February 2014

Let's go down to where it's clean
To see the time that might have been.
The tides have carried off the beach.
As you said,
The sun is out of reach.
~Jack Bruce, Pete Brown

The passing of Philip Seymour Hoffman earlier this week brought to the forefront once again the dilemma of how to respond to people of exceptional talent, their subsequent fame, and their character disorders. It challenges us because all too often we look up to people who have the same feet of clay that we do. They are not gods. They are flawed. How do we separate their failures as role models from the exceptional gifts they have?

* * * *

The song As You Said by Cream bassist Jack Bruce and poet Pete Brown is from one of the great rock and roll double albums of all time, Wheels of Fire. It's psychedelic, surreal art is an attempt to convey the heady times and the remarkable music that Eric Clapton, Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker performed on stages both sides of the Atlantic. Clapton was practically still a kid when he linked in with Bruce and Baker, two very seasoned musicians with a volatile relationship.

The music they produced was remarkably sophisticated. Each of the men was a virtuoso. And the songs were poetry in motion, lyric content often hearkening back to historical literary roots. For example, the first stanza of As You Said ends with what is likely a reference to Icarus, who flew too near to the sun. The song is an exquisitely crafted lament, and perhaps serves as a warning about stretching too far or attempting to fly to high. Tales of Brave Ulysses from their Disraeli Gears album is explicitly rooted in Homer's Odyssey.

The album itself draws its title from Ezekiel's vision of wheels within wheels:

13-14 The four creatures looked like a blazing fire, or like fiery torches. Tongues of fire shot back and forth between the creatures, and out of the fire, bolts of lightning. The creatures flashed back and forth like strikes of lightning.

15-16 As I watched the four creatures, I saw something that looked like a wheel on the ground beside each of the four-faced creatures. This is what the wheels looked like: They were identical wheels, sparkling like diamonds in the sun. It looked like they were wheels within wheels, like a gyroscope.*

The chief feature of the double album that so set it apart was the manner in which the first two sides were produced in the studio while the second two sides were recorded live at the Fillmore in March 1968. I have often felt that Side A on this second vinyl is one of the best live rock recordings of all time. The interplay between Clapton and Bruce is unmatched for virtuosity and power as they tackle those blues classics Crossroads and Spoonful. The improvisational breakouts and breathtaking bounty of sound simply soars through the senses.

The personal conflicts between Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker were something to which the average teen like myself was oblivious. And maybe its this naive obliviousness that enables us to place these mortals on pedestals and treat them like gods.

Much has been written about Clapton as a god, but the real Clapton was a troubled, self-destructive man for a very long time as he wrestled with his own personal demons and pain. Fortunately, he came out the other side, clear-headed, clean and sober. He was rescued by love.

The same cannot as yet be said for Mr. Baker. A documentary has been been produced on Britain's most gifted drummer, aptly titled Beware of Mr. Baker. It's a gripping portrait of a self-centered, dysfunctional human being. As this Guardian interview shows, the great drummer is anything but a role model. Those who loved him were those whom he hurt most.

Which brings us back to Mr. Hoffman. Are we asking too much to expect our heroes to also be role models as well?  How do we respond when our heroes break the law, hurt others or self-destruct? The reality is, we live in a broken world. Disillusionments will be our lot time and again if we forget this truth.

*Ezekiel 1:13-16, The Message

What Does Psychedelic Look Like? Mind-Blowing Art of Martin Sharp

#82 on the Rolling Stone list of great album covers.

When you were in high school did you get into the album cover artwork as much as you got into the music of your favorite bands? I'm sure I wasn't alone in this because both Rolling Stone and Billboard have created lists of the Top 100 Greatest Album Covers. To see Sgt. Pepper as Numero Uno on the Rolling Stone list doesn't surprise me. The Beatles also garnered number three with the White Album. Before looking at the list I half wondered where the White Album would be, because even though there was nothing on it, it left plenty for the imagination. In fact, there was all kinds of speculation about whether what was on it was too controversial for public consumption. In short, it was effective for creating buzz, and memorable.

Two cover designs by the human pop art factory Andy Warhol made the top ten: Sticky Fingers (The Stones, #4 here and #22 on Billboard) and Velvet Underground & Nico album with the peel off banana (#10 at Rolling Stone and #1 on Billboard's list).

"Great" when it comes to album cover design, is evidently a matter of opinion and taste, unlike baseball where you know exactly and precisely how many batters touched all the bases and crossed the plate. Or soccer, where you can count exactly how many times the announcer shouted, G-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-A-L-L-L-L-L.

I half wondered whether Dylan's Blonde On Blonde would make either list because it was the first rock double album. It did not. Strangely enough, his Self Portrait album cover did make the Billboard list.

But the real aim of this was to draw attention to Martin Sharp, the illustrator from Down Under (a.k.a. Australia) who created the distinctive artwork for Cream's Disraeli Gears and Wheels of Fire.

Sharp was significant enough to earn an obituary in the New York Times, an acknowledgement that you were a "someboady" at some point in your lifetime. The article called him "an artist who spaed the imagery of rock." As with many things in life, it helps to be in the right place at the right time.

The artist arrived in London in 1966, just as psychedelia and the hippie movement were coming to a boil. The British Invasion, which began two years earlier, was developing an identity and Sharp was helping shape it. Check out the clothing these rock stars were decked out, and as much as the Paris runway defines women's clothing styles, so did rock heroes shape the clothing styles of many Sixties teens.

Cream was one of my own fave supergroups of that time. I had all their albums, giving Disraeli Gears much playtime. I'd not realized that Martin Sharp wrote the lyrics for "Tales of Brave Ulysses"-- a psychedelic Odyssey -- until I read that Times obituary.

Some great live Cream on sides 3 & 4

By 1970 he returned to his homeland where he spent another 40 years making art, posters, designing a publication called OZ, and pushing boundaries, occasionally a bit too far.

As a young artist myself I often wondered during that time whether the manner in which the lettering on a lot of psychedelic art was the result of psychedelics, or simply the emulation of influencers like Sharp, or the San Francisco underground scene of that era. (R. Crumb's Zap Comix, for example.)

Well, enough of this trip down memory lane. Better start my day.

Related Links
Rick Poyner's essay at the Design Observer
His 1967 Oz magazine cover and the mind-blowing original poster
A page of links to other Martin Sharp information
Martin Sharp Blogspot
Backstory on Sharp's Dylan Poster "Blowing in the Mind"

Meantime, art goes on all around you. Engage it.

Interior Sound Tracks -- Redux

The word redux means "brought back, revived." And this blog post is titled thus because this morning I accidentally deleted the post, which originally was published on Tuesday. Unintentional deleting in a Word document can be repaired using the shortcut CTRL-Z (or Command-Z on a Mac.) But how does one retrieve a deleted blog post? Well, Google has the answer for everything. One solution (and there may be others but this is what worked for me) is to go into your History and scroll back in time till you find the original page that you posted. In my case, I got lucky. And what follows is the good fortune of my retrieval efforts. If only all things lost could be found so easily.

* * * *

We live in a world swirling with sound. Depending on where we live those sounds vary, from breezes through trees and railroads rumbling in the distance (or across the street) to honking horns and the assorted sounds that make up the backdrop of city life. And then there are the manufactured sounds that we envelope ourselves in by means of radios, CD players and other devices. Finally, there's a third source of sound, the music or interior dialogues that play in our heads as we walk or drive or work in the yard.

This weekend under a blue sky while working on a project in the raspberry patches we have I decided to write down the songs that went through my head while I was working. I assume that most people have an inner playlist that accompanies them once in a while. Have you ever taken notes to see what you're listening to?

On Saturday I had a pen and paper with me to jot down songs as they swam by. You'll notice, assuming you're familiar with these, that I had recently been listening to Cream's Greatest Hits. And of course there is always Dylan. Here's how it went for a while:

Spanish Boots of Spanish Leather (Dylan)
Crossroads (Cream)
Long & Narrow Way (Dylan)
Tales of Brave Ulysses (Cream)
Those Were The Days (Cream)
Born Under A Bad Sign (Cream)
Everything Is Awesome (movie soundtrack)
American Woman (The Guess Who)
Sunshine of Your Love (Cream)
Passing the Time (Cream)
Visions of Johanna (Dylan) for about an hour, literally.

The interesting part in all this is how the music for "Everything Is Awesome" actually echoes the same riff as "American Woman."  If you do not know the two, you can find YouTube vids of these. Play the first six syllables for each. A-mer-i-can Wo-man. Even the energy is similar. Ev-ry-thing-Is-Awesome.

I draw attention to this because I've noticed this in other songs where one has a riff very similar to another. Compare "Victor Jara" from Arlo Guthrie's Amigo album to Dylan's "Desolation Row." And here's another. Compare John Prine's "The Glory of Your Love" with Lyle Lovett's "Farther Down the Line." The pace is different but when Lyle sings, "This time he sure took a bad one..." you can't help but hear Prine's "Oh the glory of your love..."

The Doors were famously sued for lift the tune for "Hello, I Love You" from the Kinks' "All Day and All of the Night." (My first .45 single.) And yes, George Harrison got into trouble for "My Sweet Lord" which echoes "He's So Fine."

But what's astonishing to me isn't that songs occasionally echo other songs. Rather, it's astounding how many different song melodies there can be with only a handful of notes to play with. Do-re-me-fa-so-la-ti-do. Music is a gift divine in its origins. And its power is undeniable, whatever form it takes.

What are you listening to today? 

Sunshine of Your Love and the Explicit Ambiguity of Rock and Roll

"But if I really say it, the radio won't play it
Unless I lay it between the lines."
Peter, Paul & Mary

It's been often noted how certain smells can vividly bring us back to moments in our past, and I think music often does the same. Yesterday "Sunshine of Your Love" by the 60's super group Cream did this for me.

I was in high school then. Transistor radios were the rage and we were all paying attention to the music our favorite disc jockeys were playing. All across the country kids learned to dance and many took up the guitar, drums or keyboards and sought out others with whom they could play, hoping one day to be performers. The Koons next door were a musical family, the father being a professional trumpet player and Scott Homan, a cousin about a mile away, was learning guitar and trying to form a group.

I don't even remember how often I practiced with them in hopes of being the singer in the band. Only problem was that I was too shy to be a front man. Little did I know that even Jim Morrison was once so shy he used to sing facing the band rather than face the crowd at the WhiskeyA Go-Go in L.A.

It was there in Scott Homan's basement that I first heard the incredible opening riffs of "Sunshine of Your Love," second cut on Cream's Disraeli Gears.

The sound felt unlike any other. First, the manner in which Jack Bruce and Eric Clapton rummaged the chord progressions to create a living, crawling backdrop for the vocals. And then that syncopated assault on the drums by Ginger Baker, almost like an unceasing series of hiccups, herky-jerky and almost seething. Atop this they laid down the lyrics.

The artwork on the cover was pure psychedelia and the lyrical contributions matched in poetic expressions unique even for this time of sensational explorations. Songs like "Strange Brew" and "Tales of Brave Ulysses," with its references to Homer and Greek mythology, showed an unusual sophistication. So, too, the ungirded rhythms and irresolution of "We're Going Wrong."

But Sunshine was the super hit from the album, the song that garnered radio air time. The chord progression at times corresponds with a chord structure you hear in The Kinks' "All Day and All of the Night," my first 45 single as a kid. This was the same chord progression that got the Doors in trouble when they recorded "Hello, I Love You." There was nothing subtle about the sensuality in Morrison's voice, not the directness of "let me jump in your game."

The opening line of Sunshine is pure poetry. "It's getting near dawn, when lights close their tired eyes." But where the song is going, a song of longing and promise, is something that can't be laid out explicitly, not on pop radio.

I've been told that even the seemingly tame Satisfaction by the Rolling Stones was pulled form the radio after seven weeks as number one in New York because it was suddenly deemed too provocative. "I can't get no.... satisfaction."

The kids maybe didn't know what they were singing about, but their parents sure did. They were wary, but shouldn't have been surprised by the sexual revolution that emerged.

Sunshine of Your Love

It's getting near dawn,
When lights close their tired eyes
I'll soon be with you my love,
To give you my dawn surprise
I'll be with you darling soon,
I'll be with you when the stars start falling
I've been waiting so long
To be where I'm going
In the sunshine of your love

I'm with you my love,
The light's shining through on you
Yes, I'm with you my love,
It's the morning and just we two
I'll stay with you darling now,
I'll stay with you till my seas are dried up
I've been waiting so long
To be where I'm going
In the sunshine of your love

I'm with you my love,
The light's shining through on you.
Yes, I'm with you my love,
It's the morning and just we two.
I'll stay with you darling now,
I'll stay with you till my seas are dried up
I've been waiting so long
I've been waiting so long
To be where I'm going
In the sunshine of your love......

Exit with Ginger Baker creating the sound of a railroad rumbling away on down the line.

Meantime, life goes on all around you. Go for it.

A Smattering of Notes About Wheels of Fire, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Life

Let's go down to where it's clean
To see the time that might have been.
The tides have carried off the beach.
As you said,
The sun is out of reach.
~Jack Bruce, Pete Brown

The passing of Philip Seymour Hoffman earlier this week brought to forefront once again the dilemma of how to respond to people of exceptional talent, their subsequent fame, and their character disorders. It challenges us because all too often we look up to people who have the same feet of clay that we do. They are not gods. They are flawed. How do we separate their failures as role models from the exceptional gifts they have?

The song As You Said by Cream bassist Jack Bruce and poet Pete Brown is from one of the great rock and roll double albums of all time, Wheels of Fire. It's psychedelic, surreal art is an attempt to convey the heady times and the remarkable music that Eric Clapton, Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker performed on stages both sides of the Atlantic. Clapton was practically still a kid when he linked in with Bruce and Baker, two very seasoned musicians with a volatile relationship.

The music they produced was remarkably sophisticated. Each of the men was a virtuoso. And the songs were poetry in motion, lyric content often hearkening back to historical literary roots. For example, the first stanza of As You Said ends with what is likely a reference to Icarus, who flew too near to the sun. The song is an exquisitely crafted lament, and perhaps serves as a warning about stretching too far or attempting to fly to high. Tales of Brave Ulysses from their Disraeli Gears album is explicitly rooted in Homer's Odyssey.

The album itself draws its title from Ezekiel's vision of wheels within wheels:

13-14 The four creatures looked like a blazing fire, or like fiery torches. Tongues of fire shot back and forth between the creatures, and out of the fire, bolts of lightning. The creatures flashed back and forth like strikes of lightning.

15-16 As I watched the four creatures, I saw something that looked like a wheel on the ground beside each of the four-faced creatures. This is what the wheels looked like: They were identical wheels, sparkling like diamonds in the sun. It looked like they were wheels within wheels, like a gyroscope.*

The chief feature of the double album that so set it apart was the manner in which the first two sides were produced in the studio while the second two sides were recorded live at the Fillmore in March 1968. I have often felt that Side A on this second vinyl is one of the best live rock recordings of all time. The interplay between Clapton and Bruce is unmatched for virtuosity and power as they tackle those blues classics Crossroads and Spoonful. The improvisational breakouts and breathtaking bounty of sound simply soars through the senses.

The personal conflicts between Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker were something to which the average teen like myself was oblivious. And maybe its this naive obliviousness that enables us to place these mortals on pedestals and treat them like gods.

Much has been written about Clapton as a god, but the real Clapton was a troubled, self-destructive man for a very long time as he wrestled with personal demons and pain. Fortunately, he came out the other side, clear-headed, clean and sober. He was rescued by love.

The same cannot as yet be said for Mr. Baker. A documentary has been been produced on Britain's most gifted drummer, aptly titled Beware of Mr. Baker. It's a gripping portrait of a self-centered, dysfunctional human being. As this Guardian interview shows, the great drummer is anything but a role model. Those who loved him were those whom he hurt most.

Which brings us back to Mr. Hoffman. Are we asking too much to expect our heroes to also be role models as well?  How do we respond when our heroes break the law, hurt others or self-destruct? The reality is, we live in a broken world. Disillusionments will be our lot time and again if we forget this truth.

*Ezekiel 1:13-16, The Message

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.