Eric Clapton - God's Slow Hand

To me, Robert Johnson is the most important blues musician who ever lived. I have never found anything so deeply intense. His music remains the most anguished cry I think can be found in the human voice.

(Eric Clapton)

We had the wife in common

(George Harrison)

Clapton is God

(Graffiti in Islington, London, 1966)

Genesis – Keep on growing

It's 1951. At the age of six, Eric catches sight of his first ghosts. In Surrey there's a charming village called Ripley, home to an inn dating back to 1453 and a church dedicated to St Mary Magdalene with a chapel in Norman architecture. Its proximity to London is strategic (less than 40 kilometres southwest of the centre) and many cyclists find it a convenient stop. But young Eric isn't thinking about cycling; rather, he feels an anguished sensation inside, as if ignored by his family, as if invisible. His uncle Adrian always teases him, calling him "little bastard". And for little Eric, there must be a reason. Then comes the bitter discovery, the great trauma, only the first of a long series.

Eric Patrick Clapton was born on 30 March 1945 to the very young Patricia Molly Clapton and Edward Walter Fryer, a Canadian soldier of just 24 who had crossed the ocean after the outbreak of the Second World War. Even before his son's birth, Edward left England to return home to Canada, leaving Patricia with an arduous task: raising a child in the mid-1940s, at just sixteen years of age. Shortly after his first cry, Eric Patrick was entrusted to the care of Rose, in reality his grandmother, and her husband Jack Clapp, spending part of his childhood in Surrey with the inevitable belief that his real mother was actually his older sister. At least until the age of nine, in 1954, when Patricia – who had in the meantime married and followed the serviceman Frank MacDonald to Canada and Germany – returned to Ripley with her six-year-old son Brian, in fact Eric's half-brother. Young Clapton arrived at the truth and discovered his family ties to be so tangled and traumatic, fuelling within him an increasingly withdrawn, reserved and sad character.

Eric seems anything but a carefree child, even though he loves outdoor games, comics and drawing cakes. School stirs no enthusiasm in him at all; in fact, opening one of his diaries reveals only drawings, no notes, no homework whatsoever. The only thing that seems to interest him even slightly is playing the flute: he even wins a school prize for his performance of the traditional folk melody "Greensleeves". Between bike rides, his first cigarettes and the occasional scuffle, young Eric Patrick Clapton gets closer to music thanks to Rose, who loves playing the piano and singing traditional songs at home.

The year is 1956. Elvis Presley is topping the charts with "Hound Dog" and Eric – like many of his friends – goes completely wild for it. Thanks to his first record player, young Clapton begins his musical journey accompanied by the sounds of Buddy Holly and Jerry Lee Lewis. Rock and roll made in the USA is sweeping the world like a tsunami of chords, and Eric feels as though he has landed right in the middle of the future.

I had my eye on an instrument – Eric himself would recall many years later – a German-made Hoyer guitar that cost two pounds. A strange instrument, because it looked like a Spanish guitar but instead of nylon it had steel strings. It was a rather odd combination, and for a beginner like me it was really painful to play. I had no one to teach me how to play it, so I taught myself, and it wasn't an easy task.

God's first "curious" guitar.

Blues purism – For Your Love

The year is 1961. Eric is sixteen and walks through the doors of the Kingston School of Art, an art school founded in 1899 in Kingston Upon Thames and part of Kingston University in London. His guitar technique has grown considerably, despite his being a simple self-taught kid. Young Clapton often plays with Dave Brock, the English singer and guitarist who would go down in rock history as the main songwriter of progressive band Hawkwind. Young Clapton often slips off to London, ending up hanging around clubs buzzing with folk music in the full pre-beatnik era. His mind is extremely open and ready to absorb the techniques of his first musical idols, the ones now regarded as the "untouchable giants" of blues music: Leadbelly, Muddy Waters, Big Bill Broonzy. Eric listens, tries to imitate them, works hard to bring the tragic voice of the blues onto his guitar. The days of Elvis and Jerry Lee Lewis are already far behind, because Clapton wants to follow the footsteps of a much older, more primal kind of music: "Nobody Knows When You're Down & Out" and "Key To The Highway" are his daily mantra.

Between his first drunken nights and his first close encounters with the opposite sex, Eric doesn't lose focus: he has by now understood that the genesis of rock and roll lies in the blues, and so he wants to master every guitar technique. Howlin' Wolf, John Lee Hooker, Little Walter, but above all the man who truly opens every door of perception for him: Robert Johnson.

He's so absorbed in all this that he forgets he's actually enrolled in the first year at the Kingston School of Art, which cordially decides to show him the door for his total lack of commitment to his art studies. Clearly, this isn't the destiny of the man who, just five years later, would be scrawled on the walls of Islington as God.

With no school and no books to bury himself in, Eric agrees to work with his "father", a carpenter and plasterer by trade, for fifteen pounds a week. He doesn't seem remotely worried about his future: at the Marquee Club on Oxford Street in London, he has discovered the talent of Alexis Korner, who has put together the country's first real R&B band. It's there that he thinks: "I need to get myself an electric guitar."

With the spirit of the blues burning ever stronger in him, Eric passes an audition with flying colours to join what is his very first band: The Roosters. A makeshift outfit put together by guitarist Tom McGuinness, who mostly dabbles in blues and R&B covers. While the so-called Mersey sound starts to take hold in England, Clapton plays "Hoochie Coochie Man" in pub basements, still covered in plaster dust. Everyone's intentions are good, but the band is short-lived, dissolving one night in late July at the Marquee on Oxford Street.

But it's only a fade-out, a veil of smoke about to reveal something that will be remembered. In early 1963 a band made up of four lads from Merseyside releases the single "Please Please Me". At eighteen, Eric Patrick Clapton meets Giorgio Gomelsky, a burly, charismatic man of Georgian descent who has decided to open a club called CrawDaddy. Gomelsky is an R&B devotee on the hunt for a band to fill the Sunday night slot on his club's stage. That's when he sets his sights on a band called Yardbirds, founded by London singer and guitarist Keith Relf. Yardbirds are the right horse for Gomelsky, but there's an immediate problem: he needs to replace his lead guitarist, who's under pressure from his parents to go straight back to school. Who better than Eric, who knows tracks like "Smokestack Lightning" inside out?

The great turning point arrives: Eric Patrick Clapton quits his carpentry job and joins his first real band, alongside Keith Relf on vocals and harmonica, Chris Dreja on rhythm guitar, Paul Samwell-Smith on bass and Jim McCarty on drums. Thus is born the first lineup of the Yardbirds, signed by Giorgio Gomelsky, regulars at the CrawDaddy and ready for their first English tour with Sonny Boy Williamson.

Gomelsky is a man of rare determination, and he still hasn't gotten over "the snatch" pulled off by the shrewd producer and entrepreneur Andrew Loog Oldham, who had practically poached the Rolling Stones right under his nose. Gomelsky is adamant: the Yardbirds will become the most important and famous R&B band in the world!

Wasting no more time, in early 1964 Gomelsky secures his boys their first contract with Columbia Records, just as the band is working on their first single, "I Wish You Would", a cover of Billy Boy Arnold, soon followed by "Good Morning Little Schoolgirl", another reworking of R&B standards.

On 4 December 1964, Five Live Yardbirds is released, the first live album, essentially made up of blues covers performed live at the Marquee and the CrawDaddy Club.

The record has nothing original to it, in the sense that it simply offers up covers of artists like Howlin' Wolf ("Smokestack Lightning"), Bo Diddley ("Pretty Girl") and John Lee Hooker ("Louise"). It's merely a record that proves – and Eric himself agrees on this – just how much better the Yardbirds come across live than in the studio.

The Yardbirds' live shows are raw, wound tight around blazing guitar runs, and Clapton's style is already starting to win over music fans. In the pauses between songs, while Eric changes his strings, the crowd often breaks into slow, syncopated clapping. It's here that Gomelsky decides to nickname him Slowhand.

By the end of 1964, the Yardbirds had already played close to two hundred shows, building an ever-growing following and touring as a support act for Jerry Lee Lewis. In December they're invited to play the Beatles' Christmas show at the Hammersmith Odeon in London: Clapton doesn't envy the Beatles one bit — in fact, he can't understand how they manage to play behind a screaming wall of 12- to 15-year-old girls. But it's at the end of 1964 that Eric first meets guitarist George Harrison, the start of a long friendship that will prove hugely important — for better and for worse — to his future career.

Year 1965. Despite the efforts of promoter and producer Giorgio Gomelsky, the Yardbirds haven't yet managed to climb the Olympus of globally famous bands. Hundreds of gigs do, however, allow Clapton to buy his first "serious guitar", a cherry-red Gibson ES-335, the first commercial electric guitar with a semi-hollowbody design, introduced in 1958 and already adopted by sacred monsters like Chuck Berry and John Lee Hooker. "I couldn't believe how beautiful and shiny it was," Clapton would later say. "Finally, I felt like a real musician."

As a "real musician", Eric starts feeling increasingly uneasy with pop music, steeped as he is in blues purism. His genuine interest in the Yardbirds is already wavering, and it collapses completely when Gomelsky pushes for the band to become "like the Beatles". What's needed is what's called, in English, a hit or a number-one record, and bassist Paul Samwell-Smith has just had an idea: cover "For Your Love", written by Graham Gouldman, who would later join 10cc. Everyone is thrilled, except Clapton, who sees it as a betrayal of the blues — a kind of artistic sell-out in the name of radio and record success.

The Yardbirds' first album, For Your Love, comes out in the summer of 1965, driven of course by the title-track single already released in March, which had made the Top Ten in both the UK and the US. Gomelsky's gamble seems to have paid off, despite Clapton's objections: opened by Brian Auger's syncopated harpsichord, "For Your Love" winds along on bongos and guitars that chime like bells, already carving its place into the sonic imagination of mid-Sixties London. Not all the album's material is Clapton's, since on three tracks — "I'm Not Talking" (Mose Allison), "I Ain't Done Wrong" (Keith Relf) and "My Girl Sloopy" — Jeff Beck's fuzztone, electronic guitar appears on record with the band for the first time.

For Your Love is an almost hybrid album, torn between different paths and creative needs, but above all between different artistic visions. While Beck speeds things up with his nervy, garage-rock guitar, Clapton keeps a cleaner style, more faithful to blues and R&B tradition (the danceable "Putty In Your Hands" and the stuttering beat of "I Ain't Got You"). Overall, Gomelsky's move is clear: cash in on Beatlemania with a short album (barely thirty minutes), direct and aimed squarely at a young, pleasure-seeking audience. The record's second side is practically a manifesto, full of irresistible choruses ("My Girl Sloopy") and R&B grooves filtered through Beatles and Beach Boys-style arrangements ("Sweet Music" and "Good Morning Little Schoolgirl"). The Yardbirds' melodic lines are clear enough for children and tailor-made for American radio: good news for everyone, except Clapton, who is promptly "invited" by Gomelsky to take his blues purism elsewhere.

In Search of the Lost Blues — Steppin' Out

Contrary to what one might expect, Clapton doesn't take the split from the Yardbirds well in early 1965. In March, the band is riding high after the single "For Your Love", and Eric simply cannot understand how the spirit of real music can never meet the categorical imperative of commercial success. For a while he moves back to the old house in Ripley, supported by Jack and Rose through a period of deep discouragement.

It's John Mayall — singer and multi-instrumentalist who, under the influence of Alexis Korner, had moved to London to form the Bluesbreakers — who restores his faith in the future of blues music. More a project than a stable band, the Bluesbreakers is, as Clapton himself would later put it, "an incredible school for musicians". Eric knows Mayall by reputation, admiring him in particular for having carved out a niche in the name of blues music, touring without any obsession for radio play or record sales. Mayall is a purist, just like Clapton, and invites him to join the band called the Bluesbreakers: the right man at the right time.

Eric Clapton agrees to join John Mayall's Bluesbreakers in April 1965. Vegetarian, teetotal, with long hair and a beard, Mayall looks like a blues guru, and he offers the young Clapton a room in the attic of his house in Lee Green, where he lives with his wife Pamela. Eric happily accepts, fascinated by Mayall's immense record collection, with which he spends every day listening to and playing music, especially the electric blues of the Chicago school. Clapton and Mayall thus begin their personal journey in search of the Delta's roots, from the primal sound on the banks of the Mississippi to Chess Records, the historic label of Bo Diddley, Chuck Berry and Etta James.

Following the river, Clapton joins the Bluesbreakers alongside John Mayall (lead vocals, harmonica and piano), John McVie (bass) and Hughie Flint (drums). Riding in the van driven by Mayall, the Bluesbreakers tour England one gig after another, playing clubs of varying renown and building an ever-wider following on the British blues scene. Eric soon reaches a moment he could never have imagined not long before: playing alongside his hero Muddy Waters.

In August 1965, Clapton decides to temporarily leave John Mayall's band to go play around Europe with a group of fellow musician friends called The Glands. When he returns to England in October, he meets his replacement, Geoff Krivit, and, more significantly, new bassist Jack Bruce, who has taken over from the now-departed John McVie. After all, the Bluesbreakers isn't a stable band but a project — a school of the highest order.

With Clapton and McVie both back by the end of 1965, the Bluesbreakers decide to ramp up their live shows, soon becoming one of the most acclaimed live bands in the whole country. It's right around the turn of 1965 into 1966 that the now-famous graffiti appears, spray-painted on a wall of Islington tube station in London: "Clapton is God".

Mike Vernon, a producer on Decca Records' payroll, has been pressing his own bosses for months to give Mayall's band a second chance, after the commercial flop they'd released in March 1965 (the album "John Mayall Plays John Mayall"). Given the huge audience success the new lineup has achieved in the meantime, Decca Records relents and grants the Bluesbreakers a second shot on the record market.

Better known as Beano — after the title of a comic anthology magazine published in the UK since the late 1930s — the album John Mayall's Bluesbreakers With Eric Clapton comes out in the summer of 1966 and would go down as one of the most important records in the entire history of British blues. A seminal record that, legend has it, immediately convinced a certain James Marshall Hendrix to get hold of a Marshall amplifier in order to experiment in his own way with the volumes Clapton achieved through his 1959 Gibson Les Paul Standard. Eric is in fact more determined than ever to replicate on record the incendiary power of the Bluesbreakers' unmatched live shows, even at the cost of furious arguments with sound engineer Gus Dudgeon, who — at least in the recording studio — wants a cleaner, less distorted sound. Backed by Vernon, Clapton wins out: the microphones are placed as close as possible to the amplifier, and Bluesbreakers With Eric Clapton becomes one of the most powerful-sounding records the UK had ever heard up to that point. From the very first minute — when the sinuous rock-blues anthem "All Your Love" kicks in — it's clear just how far Clapton's guitar has traveled from the Yardbirds' beat sound of less than a year earlier. "All Your Love" introduces the world to Eric's first great solo, and throughout the record he displays a technique that is at once faithful to blues standards and capable of improvised bursts of speed (as in the lightning-fast "Hideaway") that upended the entire national guitar scene.

While Mayall's own style is clear enough — the frantic rhythm and blues of "Little Girl", the a cappella harmonica of "Another Man" — the record takes on legendary status thanks to Clapton's explosive guitar, finally free of any creative or performing constraints. The two slow numbers "Double Crossing Time" and "Have You Heard" are, in this sense, two of the defining songs of the whole musical journey shared by two artists who had decided, together, to trace the blues back to its source.

From the boogie atmosphere of “Steppin’ Out” to the stammering, harmonica-driven charge of “It Ain’t Right”, Bluesbreakers With Eric Clapton marks the end of an era – not so much for the originality of certain tracks (there are several covers, such as Ray Charles’s “What I’d Say”) but for an entirely new take on sound that would be followed by dozens of guitarists in the years to come. This is where Clapton’s god-like status is truly born – more than on that Islington subway wall – and together with Mayall he opens the great rock season spanning the mid-to-late Sixties.

Band Wars – Wheels of Fire

After the release of the “Beano Album”, Eric Clapton seems like a happy young man: he has found a musical partnership that allows him to sharpen his guitar skills.

But it’s not enough.

At 21, Clapton is convinced he can give more, and above all that he can become a frontman like Buddy Guy. After all, he’s already been compared to the divine – so why not try?

The first move comes from Peter Edward Baker, known to his friends as Ginger because of his red hair. Baker meets Clapton after a Bluesbreakers gig and offers him a lift to London: he tells him about his new idea – leaving his drummer’s seat in the Graham Bond Organisation to form a brand-new band. While Ginger drives, Eric thinks it over and says yes: it can be done, but only if Jack Bruce plays bass. Baker nearly crashes his Rover 3000.

He hates Jack Bruce.

Ginger Baker and Jack Bruce know each other, reluctantly, from the days when they played together in Alexis Korner’s band – a magical alchemy according to Clapton, though one with no equivalent on a personal level. Constantly eyeing each other with suspicion, Bruce and Baker nonetheless accept Eric’s terms and start playing as a trio in the spring of 1966. Clapton would actually like to add a fourth member to the band, the Birmingham multi-instrumentalist Steve Winwood, already a member of the R&B outfit The Spencer Davis Group. Eric initially wants to reproduce the sound already explored in the Bluesbreakers, but for once Bruce and Baker agree: the band has to keep playing as a trio of bass, guitar and drums, a fairly unusual line-up for the time. The three work in great secrecy, avoiding going public since they’re all still under contract with other bands – at least until Baker’s ill-fated interview with Melody Maker, which infuriates his bandmates and forces Clapton to explain everything to Mayall, who is like an artistic father to him. John doesn’t take it well, because deep down he knows perfectly well that it’s thanks to Eric that the Bluesbreakers have become one of England’s top-tier bands. But there’s nothing he can do about it, because the god with the Gibson needs far more room to grow.

Freed from their respective contractual obligations, the three carry on with rehearsals. Baker suggests Robert Stigwood to handle all the managerial side, while Clapton harbours serious doubts about the very idea of being a trio in an era dominated by pop and beat groups.

It’s Eric himself who suggests to the other two what will become the band’s official name: Cream, to underline the almost elitist musical proposition of three outstanding musicians – the so-called “cream” of the crop. Cream’s first live performance takes place at the Twisted Wheel in Manchester in July 1966, on the eve of the hugely anticipated World Cup final, later won by England against West Germany thanks to Geoff Hurst’s historic hat-trick. For the newly formed Cream it’s just a warm-up, ahead of their true first concert at the National Jazz and Blues Festival at Windsor Racecourse. Clapton, Baker and Bruce play in front of 15,000 people right after the incendiary performance of the Who, and immediately draw an incredible ovation. The music press goes into a frenzy, and some call Cream “the first supergroup” in the UK.

Labels from the trade press aside, Cream struggle to take off, and after the Windsor Jazz Festival performance they go back to the circuit of small English venues, where audiences still haven’t quite figured out why there are three of them and not at least four. Indeed, Clapton himself still has to work out how to adapt to the new sonic style of a three-piece band, less supported by keyboards and with fewer chances to step back during certain parts of the songs.

Guided by Robert Stigwood – who, like every self-respecting manager of the time, is hunting for hits – Cream release their first single, “Wrapping Paper”/”Cat’s Squirrel”, in October 1966. The A-side is a nostalgic, jazz-flavoured barrelhouse number written by Jack Bruce with the poet and performer Peter Green, and it peaks at number 34 on the UK Top 40 – nothing special. The December single is decidedly better: also written by the Bruce/Green pairing, “I Feel Free” opens with a repeated bomp like a gospel chant before the rhythm section detonates and a chiming riff lights up Clapton’s endless, distorted guitar. Even though “I Feel Free” doesn’t give Stigwood the chart-topping hit he wants, the track is the first distinctive example of a unique sound that will shake England to its core.

On 9 December 1966, Fresh Cream is released, the debut album by the “supergroup” of Eric Clapton, Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker. The UK immediately grasps the genesis of that name, since the three musicians are declaring themselves the “fresh cream” of Albion’s blues scene.

Fresh Cream is the first sonic building block of Cream’s incredible trajectory, an album steeped mainly in rock-blues with a still considerable number of covers – the schizophrenic gallop of “Rollin’ And Tumblin'” and the almost martial cadence of “Spoonful” – which nonetheless already carries the seeds of the sound soon to come.

Backed by Jack Bruce’s warm, persuasive voice, “N.S.U.” – an acronym for Non-Specific Urethritis, essentially the name of a venereal disease – opens the album with Cream’s first psychedelic arpeggio, unfurled over Baker’s frenzied drumming. While Clapton’s guitar never lets go of its taste for smoky blues-club improvisation (the sensual “Sleepy Time Time”), Jack Bruce veers toward pop with “Dreaming” and the martial beat of “Sweet Vine”. Already on the first side of Fresh Cream it’s clear how primordial blues is mutating into something new, a heavier, more distorted sound that much of the hard and heavy rock of the Seventies would come to know by heart. At the 2:52 mark of the Willie Dixon cover “Spoonful”, Clapton unleashes a guitar lick worthy of top of the class, a phrase that shows the world how blues can be carried into the future.

From the beat-blues of "Cat's Squirrel" to the cosmic skins of "Toad", Fresh Cream is the debut of a band that lands like an alien spaceship on the English music scene, three musicians of unmatched skill who effectively throw down the gauntlet to every rock band that dares call itself such.

October 1966. Two months before the release of their debut album, Cream perform at Central London Polytechnic on Regent Street. While chatting backstage with Jack Bruce, Clapton sees Chas Chandler, bassist of the Animals, approaching, accompanied by a young American with tousled hair who introduces himself as Jimi. Born James Marshall, "Jimi" Hendrix has already encountered Clapton's style through the Bluesbreakers, but now he wants to go a step further: he wants to play Howlin' Wolf's "Killing Floor" together with Cream. Despite Baker's predictably prickly reaction, young Jimi shows off his entire repertoire, including playing guitar with his teeth. Clapton is immediately unsettled, because he realizes that this kid is going to become a global star. It's the beginning of the supergroup war, a battle fought in riffs that will set late-1960s England ablaze.

A turning point in Cream's career comes when Ahmet Ertegun, boss of Atco, a subsidiary label of Atlantic Records, explains to Stigwood that Cream absolutely need to land in the United States for a first tour following the release of "I Feel Free". Of Turkish origin but based in New York, Ertegun is a towering figure in blues and R&B, and secures the band a slot on the popular Music In The Fifth Dimension, a segment of the even more popular Murray "The K" Show, hosted by Murray "The K" Kaufman, a hugely famous producer and disc jockey in the Big Apple. Kaufman is undoubtedly an odd character, obsessed with pauses in his show and infuriated by overly long songs like "I Feel Free" itself. Cream's performances won't go down in the annals of live music, but the United States opens up new horizons in the minds of Clapton and his bandmates, who tour New York with Jimi Hendrix and various local beauties. It's during this tour that Eric meets B.B. King for the first time, another encounter that will prove important as the story unfolds. Before leaving the States, Cream accept Ertegun's proposal to record some new tracks at Atlantic's studios. Back home, the start of a pivotal year for the history of popular culture awaits them.

In 1967, London is one of the nerve centers of planet Earth. A city where fashion, music, art and underground intellectual movements converge into a single, vividly colored stream. From Mary Quant's designs to John Lennon's psychedelic Rolls-Royce, the so-called Swinging London is going (and driving everyone else) wild across the UK. In June comes out an album called "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band", the Beatles' latest studio effort, which effectively revolutionizes the very way of conceiving pop and rock music. Even though he has one of his Les Pauls "psychedelicized", Clapton can hardly be filed under the hippie register, but he doesn't mind spending his evenings at the Speakeasy on Margaret Street in the company of George Harrison and a good dose of acid, lulled by the lysergic lullaby of "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds".

At the start of May, Cream return to New York to record their second album under the guidance of Ahmet Ertegun and, above all, young producer Felix Pappalardi, born in the Bronx and first noticed as a session player for Joan Baez. Pappalardi's work will prove crucial to the genesis of Disraeli Gears, Cream's absolute masterpiece and one of the most important and influential records of "hard blues" in the late Sixties. To understand the American producer's role, Clapton himself would later recall how Pappalardi transformed the traditional twelve-bar blues of "Lawdy Mama" into a winding pop structure à la Paul McCartney, subsequently reshaped by Clapton with a guitar style in the vein of Albert King. "Strange Brew" opens Cream's second album and is a revelation: the band abandons for good the blues-revival style of the first album in favor of a unique sound built solely from hard blues and psychedelia. Today it's a landmark for genre lovers, but in 1967 it was a painful punch in the face of pop-rock.

With Disraeli Gears, Cream decide to change their approach to the recording studio, keeping amplification levels as high as ever but abandoning the live-band spirit that Clapton himself had often brought to record-making. The influence of works like "Sgt. Pepper's" is evident, and now Cream work in layers upon layers of sound, giving birth (perhaps) to the track that marks the dawn of every hard-genre to come: "Sunshine Of Your Love".

The lightning-fast riff (and the aching solo) of "Sunshine Of Your Love" is like Clapton's answer and challenge to Jimi Hendrix, who in the meantime releases "Are You Experienced?" with his own "supergroup" formed with bassist Noel Redding and drummer Mitch Mitchell. "Sunshine Of Your Love" is the perfect fusion of blues scales, psychedelic textures and a pop chorus, blasted out of stereo systems at reckless volume and tempo.

Released in November 1967, Disraeli Gears is Cream's lysergic statement, with Clapton's guitar agreeing to temporarily let go of blues purism and turning almost into an Indian instrument on the brief "Dance The Night Away". Written with Australian friend Martin Sharp, the galloping "Tales Of Brave Ulysses" unleashes Baker's drumming before veering off thanks to Eric's wah-wah. Cradled by Bruce's warm vocals, "Swlabr" opens the door to the hard-rock season years ahead of its time, while "We're Going Wrong" reveals Clapton's growing closeness to his friend George Harrison and his raga-tinged leanings.

Sure, Cream are still tied to the blues – as on the indestructible "Outside Woman Blues" – but with Disraeli Gears they pull off an almost supersonic leap, effectively launching (albeit sharing the building with Jimi's Experience) the entire hard & heavy scene.

Upon his return to London from New York, a few months before the release of Disraeli Gears, Clapton is beaming, utterly convinced he has just pulled off the best record of his career. The painstaking sonic work with Felix Pappalardi has instilled a strong sense of confidence in Cream, but something is lurking around the corner in England. That something is called the Jimi Hendrix Experience, the trio Hendrix formed following Cream's very own blueprint. The success of "Are You Experienced?" is enormous, and Clapton himself feels confused, almost betrayed by his own country: how is it possible that Cream have just recorded their best record yet, and all anyone can talk about is Jimi Hendrix?

In truth, beyond Clapton's disappointment – probably fueled by a more or less justified envy toward his main "rival" on the hard-blues-rock scene – the album Disraeli Gears will prove to be Cream's biggest commercial success, entering the Top 10 of the UK Album Chart and, more strikingly, reaching number four on the best-selling records chart in the United States and number one in Australia. Disraeli Gears catapults Cream into the pantheon of stardom.

Summer 1967. Clapton and his bandmates board a plane for California, awaited by a long US tour that will establish them on the American live scene. Eric meets several West Coast musicians, from Mike Bloomfield to David Crosby, with whom he shares a nightlife steeped in weed and lysergic trips. In New York, Ertegun introduces Clapton to a certain singer named Aretha Franklin, inviting him to play lead guitar on the track "Be As Good To Me As I Am To You".

Clapton is by now one of the most sought-after guitarists in the world, and Robert Stigwood rides the wave of fame: Cream keep playing across the United States for over five months, winning over audiences in every state from coast to coast.

Paradoxically, having reached the peak of worldwide fame, Cream begin to experience their first internal tensions, already stoked by the never-idyllic relationship between Baker and Bruce. In truth, the three musicians have become "too big" to coexist as a band, personalities too overwhelming to pursue a shared artistic path together.

The Cream dimension thus begins to feel too small for the three members of the band, who are increasingly less drawn to the idea of playing together on the same stage every night. The situation comes to a head in the early months of 1968, when Clapton is introduced to a new group called The Band, which has recently recorded a series of tracks that will end up on their debut album "Music From Big Pink". Eric is astonished by the unmatched ability of Robertson and co. to blend folk, rock, country and soul, and he fully understands that Cream could never, ever achieve a sound like that. At the end of every concert, Clapton makes his usual phone call to Robert Stigwood: "I have to come home, I can't do this anymore, you have to get me out of this situation".

Summer 1968. Cream return to England after their long stint touring the States, and the album Disraeli Gears is now selling like hotcakes on both sides of the Atlantic. With the band already in a state of collapse, their third album, Wheels Of Fire, is released, recorded half in the studio and half live during shows at the Fillmore West and Winterland Ballroom in San Francisco.

On Wheels Of Fire, Felix Pappalardi's work is even more pronounced: this time he doesn't just handle arrangements and production, but steps in as an additional musician, playing more classical instruments like viola, organ, bells and harpsichord. Pappalardi lends the record a symphonic touch, as on the masterful "White Room", which opens the first part of the album with an unforgettable clash between the viola and Clapton's by-now-unmistakable riff. "White Room" effectively completes Cream's trio of immortal singles, following the debut of "I Feel Free" and the grenade that was "Sunshine Of Your Love".

In some ways, Wheels Of Fire is like the summa (and farewell) of Cream's sonic art, blending due homage to their blues roots — from the sinuous cover "Sitting On Top Of The World" to the explosive "Born Under A Bad Sign" — with the new psychedelia that had already permeated the masterpiece Disraeli Gears. The hypnotic merry-go-round of "Passing The Time" and the raga ballad "As You Said" confirm the lysergic streak of a group that (perhaps) had, deep down, decided far too soon to abandon the world's rock stages. Perhaps that's precisely why the album is pervaded by an almost schizophrenic aura, internally split by the differing styles of its very different musicians. Probably intent on becoming the new George Martin, Pappalardi pens the psychedelic march "Rat And Warthog", which seems light years away from the heavy riff of "Politician".

The epic, futuristic final charge of "Deserted Cities Of The Heart" opens the second half of the record, which condenses the total power of Cream live into just four tracks — only one of which was actually recorded live at the Fillmore West, despite the title "Live At The Fillmore". "Crossroads" is Clapton's homage to his idol Robert Johnson and likely captures his finest live performance at barely 23 years old. On stage, at least, the band manages to set aside all their differences, displaying an uncanny alchemy between the rhythm section and lead guitar. The sprawling versions of "Spoonful" and "Toads" — the latter featuring Baker's brilliant improvisations — are music to the ears of genre devotees, but they also prove to the world the enduring worth of a band whose only misfortune may have been having to compete with the Jimi Hendrix Experience.

Fede cieca – Presence Of The Lord

Back in England, Cream are thriving, at least commercially. A few months late, Disraeli Gears is selling at levels comparable to bands like the Rolling Stones, and every live show is selling out. With the release of Wheels Of Fire, Clapton feels the time has come to call it quits for good, particularly irritated by their own reputation as onstage virtuosos. More simply, the three musicians no longer communicate with each other, utterly unable to work together on new material.

In September 1968, Clapton is invited by his friend George Harrison to work on a series of studio overdubs for his new contribution to what would be universally recognised as "The White Album". "I can't do that," Eric replies, "nobody has ever played on a Beatles record." Harrison eventually talks him round: Clapton plays guitar on the aching, acid-tinged ballad "While My Guitar Gently Weeps", tweaking his classic style with the use of an oscillator for a "wobbling" effect that will leave critics jumping out of their seats. Harrison, in the end, was right: only Clapton could have played on a Beatles record.

It's 26 November 1968: Cream take the stage at London's Royal Albert Hall to bid farewell to their audience. No final party, no speech to the fans: Eric Clapton, Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker dissolve, without a word, the partnership that had carried the blues revival into the future of hard rock. Baker himself would later admit that the final Royal Albert Hall shows "were below our standards, because we were much better than that".

While the live activity could be declared over, one album was still outstanding on the recording front: Goodbye was recorded in October 1968 — it would be released in early 1969 — but only because the band had agreed to also bid farewell on record, as its ironic cover art makes clear. Goodbye is a forced, unfinished album. Essentially, it's a mix of rather unconvincing live tracks — two long but hasty versions of "I'm So Glad" and "Politician" on side A — and new compositions such as the pop-rock number "Badge", featuring a contribution from L'Angelo Misterioso, aka George Harrison, on rhythm guitar.

The year is 1969. With the Cream adventure filed away, Clapton enters a new phase of his life and career. He decides to "lay low" for a while, buying an Italian-style villa in the quiet of Surrey, partly to escape the clutches of the London police, who have already drawn up a list of well-known figures rather too fond of drug abuse. It's during this period of downtime that Eric spends much more time in the company of George Harrison and his wife Pattie Boyd, a model and photographer born in Taunton, Somerset. Harrison's house isn't far from where Eric has relocated with his trusty guitars, and the three of them see increasingly more of each other, playing music, chatting and smoking. But while Harrison is composing the sunlit "Here Comes The Sun", Clapton feels increasingly unsettled, more and more troubled by the presence of George's captivating blonde wife.

"I think I was initially motivated by a mixture of lust and envy," Clapton would say years later, "but everything changed once I really got to know her. I first set eyes on Pattie backstage at the Saville Theatre in London after a Cream gig, and I thought she was unusually beautiful. That first impression was then reinforced by spending time with her. I remember thinking that her beauty was also internal. It wasn't just the way she looked, although she seemed to me the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. There was something deeper, it came from within her. She was simply herself, and that's what captivated me. I had never known such a complete woman, and it left me feeling overwhelmed. At that point I thought I had two paths ahead of me: stop seeing her and George altogether, or give in to my own feelings and tell her everything I felt."

No one could describe better than Clapton the state of mind of a man torn, caught between his admiration for a great guitarist and friend and the whirlwind of feelings raging inside him.

After Cream's breakup, Eric increasingly finds himself in a kind of limbo. Unlike when he left the Yardbirds, he has no idea what he'll do next. He then thinks of multi-instrumentalist Steve Winwood, already considered at the very start of the Cream venture, back when he wasn't yet convinced about the idea of running a trio. The timing is perfect, because Clapton knows that Winwood has just left Traffic and has retreated to his cottage in Aston Tirrold, in a remote corner of the Berkshire Downs, where Traffic themselves had recorded much of the album "Mr. Fantasy". Eric and Steve thus spend a lot of time together, playing music, smoking weed and talking about a new song called "Presence Of The Lord". During one of these sessions, fuelled by booze and drugs, the last person Clapton would ever expect knocks at the door: Ginger Baker. It's immediately clear to everyone that a new band is about to be born.

And so, almost by chance, in the spring of 1969 the new supergroup Blind Faith is formed, consisting, naturally, of Clapton on guitar, Winwood on vocals and keyboards, Ginger Baker on drums, and former Family member Ric Grech on bass. As a quartet, Blind Faith record some new songs at Clapton's house in Surrey, and later at Morgan Studios in London with producer Jimmy Miller, who had already worked with the Rolling Stones on the album "Beggars Banquet".

Blind Faith make their live debut at Hyde Park in June 1969 with a free concert. As expected, the crowd turns out in droves — around 100,000 people — hoping to also hear Cream and Traffic hits performed live, only to end up bitterly disappointed: both Clapton and Winwood want to break completely free from their respective former bands, focusing solely and exclusively on the new material. Baker plays while high on drugs, and Eric already seems to deeply regret having taken on this new project with a fellow ex-Cream member.

In July, Blind Faith play Madison Square Garden in New York, and the situation is identical, but this time it spirals out of control by the end of the show. A general scuffle breaks out with dramatic consequences: Baker suffers a severe bruise and Winwood's piano is completely destroyed. The incident leads Blind Faith to revise their live setlists for subsequent shows, bringing back Cream and Traffic hits right up to their final performance in Honolulu at the end of August. The life of the new supergroup is as short as that of a butterfly: Baker has clear drug problems, and Winwood and Clapton — despite respecting each other as artists — simply don't click together, almost as if held back by a reverential fear of overshadowing one another.

In September, the first and only self-titled Blind Faith album comes out, commercially buoyed by the obvious fame of its members, but above all by an artwork that causes a scandal, especially in the United States.

Blind Faith is the album that flawlessly merges the two souls embodied by Clapton and Winwood, both hungry for new creative stimuli after the breakups of Cream and Traffic. Backed by Baker's anarchic drumming and Grech's excellent glue-work on bass, the two frontmen manage to find a memorable sonic alchemy within a single record. "Hard To Cry Today", the album's opening track, is the perfect example of how the new supergroup manages to blend, in just the right doses, the thunderous hard-blues riff (a Clapton-era Cream memory) with Winwood's almost bucolic, countrified soul openings. Winwood himself carries his Traffic experience into the magical folk-soul ballad "Can't Find My Way Home", which would go on to become one of the signature tracks of an album destined for cult status in the music world.

The whole album is of course underpinned by the friendly creative rivalry between Clapton and Winwood, with the former penning the liturgical "Presence Of The Lord" – a lyrical prayer drenched in wah wah – and the latter carrying forward the Traffic legacy on the psychedelic soul of "Sea Of Joy", poignantly closed out by Grech's electric violin, a key figure in all of Blind Faith's arrangements.

Perfect also because of its measured length – just over 40 minutes of music – Blind Faith closes with the long ride of "Do What You Like", a five-part blues that paves the way for the inevitable Ginger Baker solo, which in its sheer (personal and professional) madness earned him the respect of audiences and critics alike as one of the most talented drummers of his generation.

Controversy over photographer Bob Seidemann's cover art aside – a topless teenage girl holding a futuristic, phallic-shaped model aircraft – Blind Faith is both the debut and the swan song of a band that lasted barely a season, yet managed in just a few months to produce songs that would carve out a permanent place in the century's musical history.

Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs

While touring the world with Blind Faith, Clapton feels increasingly disengaged from the new project with his friend Steve Winwood. The blame falls on an American duo called Delaney & Bonnie, formed by songwriter couple Delaney and Bonnie Bramlett in 1967, one of the few white acts to earn the honor of signing with the legendary Stax Records, the Memphis label that had expanded internationally with artists of the caliber of Booker T. & The MG's, Sam & Dave and Isaac Hayes.

In the summer of 1969, while serving as the opening act on the very same Blind Faith tour, Delaney & Bonnie release the album "Accept No Substitute", which catches Clapton's attention with its mix of soul, rock and roll and country. Recommended by his friend Harrison, Delaney & Bonnie become Eric's new obsession, and he decides to offer up his guitar services both during and after the Blind Faith experience.

At the end of 1969, Clapton records the live album Delaney & Bonnie & Friends On Tour With Eric Clapton together with the couple, released in March 1970 on the Atco label and once again produced by Jimmy Miller.

Particularly well received by critics – some even rate it above the Blind Faith record – On Tour With Eric Clapton is a thoroughly solid live album, with just the right mix of soul, country and blues that defines Delaney & Bonnie's Stax sound. From the Cropper-esque sinuousness of "Things Get Better" to the wild "Little Richard Medley", the album flows like a funky torrent, relentless and driven by a killer groove. Delaney & Bonnie enlisted the best soul musicians around, including Rita Coolidge, Bobby Keys and Dave Mason. Above them all, one of the most brilliant songwriters of Sixties pop-soul: Leon Russell, who pens the Robert Johnson tribute "Poor Elijah".

Critics rave about it, with Rolling Stone calling it the "definition of southern rock" and Mojo comparing the record to the Rosetta Stone of roots rock and roll. Delaney & Bonnie's trajectory is as clear as daylight, made all the more dazzling by the roster of top-tier musicians who signed on to the project. Among them, naturally, is Clapton, who contributes to the soul-blues of "Comin' Home" at the album's close.

Certified gold in April 1970, On Tour With Eric Clapton would become a massive hit among genre devotees, reissued 40 years later as a quadruple album featuring various performances, including Steve Winwood's live rendition of "Gimme Some Lovin'" at London's Royal Albert Hall.

September 1969. After the last Blind Faith concert in Honolulu, Clapton retreats once again to his new home in Surrey. One Saturday morning, a phone call comes in from John Lennon, inviting him to play with the Plastic Ono Band in Toronto. Eric accepts without hesitation and meets up with John and Yoko, who are waiting for him at London airport along with bassist Klaus Voorman and drummer Alan White. The show is set to take place at a major rock and roll festival that also features Bo Diddley, Jerry Lee Lewis, Little Richard and Chuck Berry. The band Lennon has thrown together barely has time to rehearse during the flight from London to Toronto before taking the stage in front of roughly 25,000 people, without even really knowing what they're going to play. Clapton and Lennon dust off a version of "Yer Blues", which they had already rehearsed together during the Rolling Stones Rock And Roll Circus. Clapton's payment for the show consists of a few drawings by John, who on the flight to Canada confesses publicly for the first time that he wants to leave the Beatles.

November 1969. While touring the world with the Delaney & Bonnie southern caravan, Clapton stops off in California at the home of Delaney Bramlett, who has by now become a true friend and artistic companion. It's Delaney himself who introduces Eric to the music of a guitarist from Oklahoma City who goes by the name J.J. Cale, an extremely shy and reserved guitarist who has written a number of songs in a highly personal style at the crossroads of blues, jazz and country. A sound so relaxed and sensual that it would later be dubbed the Tulsa sound, after the second-largest city in the state of Oklahoma. Clapton is instantly captivated by J.J. Cale's sound, but above all he's pushed by Bramlett to record a batch of new songs, including his own new composition "Let It Rain". For the very first time, Eric Clapton starts seriously considering the possibility of launching a solo career.

Released in August 1970 under the production of Delaney Bramlett, the album Eric Clapton marks the solo debut of Eric and his Fender Stratocaster nicknamed Brownie. Backing him is a stellar lineup of musicians he'd already come to know on tour: Stephen Stills (guitar), Leon Russell (piano), Bobby Whitlock (organ), Bobby Keys (saxophone) and Rita Coolidge (backing vocals). The record is a product of the period Clapton went through after the breakup of Blind Faith, steeped in soul, funky and country-blues textures. Bramlett's imprint is unmistakable: tracks like "Slunky", "Bad Boy" and "Lonesome And Long Way From Home" open up a sound in a southern rock vein, complete with a commanding horn section, layered vocals and airy wah-wah guitar work. The album takes flight with the first cover Clapton performs from the catalog of his new idol J.J. Cale: on "After Midnight" the Tulsa sound explodes amid driving backing vocals and one of the most effective solos of his Brownie. While "Blues Power" and "Bottle Of Red Wine" are solid blues-rock numbers, the gem of the record is the closing "Let It Rain", an electric folk ballad embellished by Stephen Stills' guitar phrasing.

In the early months of 1970, Clapton seems happy to be in Los Angeles, surrounded by so many "like-minded" musicians, as he records the tracks that will make up his solid solo debut. A restless, gypsy spirit, Clapton seems happy to roam the world with his electric guitars, from one stage to another, from one band to another. Yet the pull of home is strong, because back in perfidious Albion someone is always intimately waiting for him. Someone who will soon play a pivotal role in his life.

In the spring of 1970, Clapton returns to the Hurtwood estate in Surrey. Back home, he decides to break things off with his current girlfriend, Alice. At first he dallies - without any great romantic enthusiasm - with Pattie's own sister, Paula Boyd.

On returning from California, Eric gets a call from bassist Carl Radle informing him that the ever-reliable Delaney & Bonnie & Friends have split up. Radle seems to already have a clear idea in mind, and asks Clapton if he's interested in forming a band with keyboardist Bobby Whitlock and drummer Jim Gordon, all of them veterans of the live outings with the American duo. Eric, not having much else on, agrees: the three new bandmates move into his house in England and start rehearsing with him night and day.

"It was the start of one of the most incredible periods of my life," Clapton would later recall, "and the memory of it is dominated by one thing: the incredible music we played." The four of them spend entire days at Clapton's house between marathon jams and sizeable amounts of drugs heavier than weed, mostly cocaine and Mandrax - better known as methaqualone, or better still as Quaalude, a barbiturate-like drug with a sedative-hypnotic effect that depresses the central nervous system. Clapton loves his new sonic travelling companions, and not only because he considers them more than capable musicians.

It's during this "incredible period" that Clapton decides to confess his love to Pattie over a bottle of red wine. They kiss, and everything seems perfect.

All this happens while George Harrison is busy rehearsing for his third solo album, "All Things Must Pass". The former Beatle asks Clapton and his new bandmates to play on the album, recorded between May and October and released under the production of Phil Spector in November 1970. Eric can't wait to meet Spector - an almost mythological figure in the early Seventies - and on that front he's immediately satisfied. Unfortunately, during this period of collaboration with Harrison's entourage, he makes another encounter too: with heroin.

June 1970. Eric Clapton's new band makes its live debut at a benefit concert in support of the Dr. Spock's Civil Liberties Legal Defense Fund. As they're about to go on stage, the four of them realize they still don't have a name. Keyboardist Tony Ashton often calls Eric by the nickname Del, and suggests the group call themselves Del and The Dominos. They end up being announced by the Lyceum Theatre announcer in London as Derek and The Dominos.

After their debut performance at the Lyceum Theatre, Clapton calls former Apple Records employee Chris O'Dell and asks her to find an apartment in central London for his new band, which has by now become too unwieldy and noisy for the Surrey countryside. Before the start of a UK tour, Eric decides to take the big step: confessing to his friend George Harrison his love for Pattie.

Derek and The Dominos' first English tour is decidedly unusual: tickets cost just a pound, and the name Eric Clapton doesn't appear on a single poster. "Nobody knew who we were, and I loved that," Clapton himself would later say. "I liked the fact that we were this little quartet playing in obscure places, sometimes in front of no more than fifty or sixty people."

The summer of 1970 is an intensely turbulent period in Eric's life, tormented by a love only half returned, since Pattie has made it clear she has no intention of leaving her husband George. Clapton sinks into a full-blown obsession, loading himself up with alcohol and drugs, but above all entering a phase of unmatched, aching creative fertility as a songwriter. Towards the end of August, Derek & The Dominos fly to Miami to begin recording new material with producer Tom Dowd for Atlantic Records. Clapton already has several ballads ready, inspired by his impossible love for Pattie, including "Bell Bottom Blues", "I Looked Away" and a new composition called "Layla", the most intimate manifesto of Eric's torment over Harrison's wife.

To deal with the pain, Miami is the perfect city: sun, sea, saunas and, above all, plenty of drugs easily bought and set aside for the band, who are staying at a hotel on the waterfront. One evening, producer Tom Dowd takes the group to see the Allman Brothers Band perform at the Coconut Grove. Clapton is spellbound by the pure talent of Duane Allman, one of the most dazzling blues guitarists of his era. Eric and Duane become friends immediately, and start spending time together in Florida. Clapton officially asks Allman to take part in the recording sessions for the first Derek & The Dominos album, securing a contribution that would prove decisive to what remains the pinnacle of his recording career.

Duane Allman's slide guitar combines with Clapton's Fender to form a single sonic body, two instruments that accompany and intertwine with each other to perfection. The Dominos record numbers like "Key To The Highway", "Nobody Knows When You're Down And Out" and a tribute to Hendrix with a cover of "Little Wing".

In the autumn of 1970, Derek & The Dominos embark on a short tour across the UK and the United States - Allman joins as an additional member for two dates in Tampa and Syracuse - earning huge acclaim from both critics and audiences. Producer Tom Dowd, however, grows increasingly worried about the amount of cocaine, heroin and whisky that faithfully travels with the band from stop to stop. Clapton and his bandmates are uncontrollable, even as they're producing some of the most intense songs of their lives.

More or less secretly dedicated to Pattie Boyd from the cover art onward, the album Layla And Other Assorted Love Songs is released in November 1970. With nearly eighty minutes of music spread across four sides, the record is the summa of Clapton's art, backed by musicians of the highest caliber - Duane Allman above all - making it one of the most important works in the entire history of rock.

From the very first folk-pop watercolor, "I Looked Away", the album makes no secret of its true nature, steeped in a cleaner sound more in line with a certain strand of American rock. Clapton sheds the blasting amplifiers of his Cream days and the blues purism of his time with the Bluesbreakers.

Layla And Other Assorted Love Songs is perhaps the quintessential blues-rock album, the record that in 1970 manages to drag the classicism of a genre into the modernity of pop. The following "Bell Bottom Blues", for instance, is the moment when Clapton becomes a chrysalis and moves into a new stage of the song format: longer, yes, but packed with a blend of slide flourishes, soul vocal architecture and romantic arrangements that sit perfectly below the threshold of mawkishness.

If the album might make more than one Cream fan immediately turn up their nose, the airy soul-driven finale "Keep On Growing" makes it clear that Clapton couldn't care less. Layla And Other Assorted Love Songs is a record calibrated to perfection, where every instrument has its place and nobody steps out of line by an inch. An alchemy that Eric had perhaps never experienced before, backed by a Duane Allman in a state of grace on the most traditional jams, "Nobody Knows When You're Down And Out" and "Key To The Highway", the latter built on a classic blues midtempo and carried for almost ten minutes by the fornication between the two lead guitars.

But the album's deepest meaning is found in tracks like "Anyday", which deploys a slide-blues riff to support Whitlock's warm voice in a soul-gospel masterpiece. This is where the genuinely new sound of Derek & The Dominos emerges, winking at the burgeoning southern rock movement ("Tell The Truth") or firing off funk at full speed ("Why Does Love Got To Be So Sad"). The band, then, is a machine with an indestructible engine, capable of slowing down into the blues — "Have You Ever Loved A Woman" contains another textbook call-and-response between Allman and Clapton — but also of exploding collectively, as in the almost symphonic intro to their cover of Hendrix's "Little Wing".

Closing a perfect album is the aching anthem "Layla", opened by what is perhaps Clapton's most famous riff and closed by the ethereal notes of Jim Gordon's piano, as if pushing the entire work of Derek & The Dominos toward the summit of world pop-rock.

Despite the creative and executive effort of the whole band, Layla And Other Assorted Love Songs is a commercial flop, barely backed by the record label on the promotional front and largely overlooked by the specialist press. The album will remain ignored by critics and the public alike for decades, only reassessed thirty years later when Rolling Stone magazine places it at number 117 on its list of the 500 greatest albums of all time.

The darkness — "The Sky Is Crying"

On the morning of 18 September 1970, James Marshall Hendrix — Jimi to everyone — is found dead in the flat he had rented at the Samarkand Hotel in London, at 22 Lansdowne Crescent. His German girlfriend, Monika Dannemann, tells the world that the Seattle guitarist choked to death on his own vomit after swallowing a cocktail of alcohol and sleeping pills.

Eric Clapton is devastated by the news, having spent a great deal of time with Jimi and respecting him as both a friend and a peer. Only a few months earlier, Derek & The Dominos had recorded a cover of "Little Wing" at the Miami studios.

In early November, while touring the States with the Dominos, he gets a phone call from Robert Stigwood: his grandfather, already paralysed by a stroke, has been rushed to hospital with cancer.

The events at the start of the decade are different but equally traumatic for Eric: in October 1971, his musical twin Duane Allman dies after a motorcycle accident in Macon, Georgia, at just 24 years old.

Ahmet Ertegun, the charismatic boss of Atlantic Records, is one of the first to worry about the state Clapton is in, by now dependent on hard drugs like cocaine and heroin. Eric's addiction is also starting to become a professional problem: after appearing on the Johnny Cash Show in Nashville in early 1971, Derek & The Dominos break up due to tensions among the band members that have become irreparable. Ever higher levels of paranoia and tension build up within the group, which at the start of the new year is working on a second album that will never see the light of day. Having exhausted the aching creative effort made in honour of Pattie Boyd, Clapton has nothing left to give, least of all to himself. His drug addiction is slowly driving him mad, ahead of yet another — and this time decisive — traumatic event. Eric calls Pattie again, convinced that the "Layla" album can't possibly have left her unmoved. He invites her to his house in Surrey, where he has since returned, but the answer doesn't change: Pattie Boyd stays with George, even as Clapton threatens to give himself over completely to the most dangerous drug of all, heroin.

Eric's desperate move with Pattie is of course a childish bluff: Clapton is already a slave to heroin, unable to go more than twenty-four hours between one hit and the next. In the despair of his impossible love for Pattie, he goes back to living with his ex-girlfriend Alice, while his friend George Harrison often comes to visit, trying to help him in some way.

An opportunity arises in the summer of 1971, when Harrison calls Clapton to invite him to play at a benefit concert for Bangladesh at Madison Square Garden in New York. Eric agrees, on condition that he's supplied with drugs both during the flight and backstage. With no heroin available, he's forced to take anti-ulcer medication just to get through the live performance. At the end of the show, he returns to the house in Surrey with Alice and decides to shut himself away, cutting off all contact with the outside world, including his widowed grandmother Rose.

By the end of 1972, Clapton is a ghost. He lives shut away in his house in Surrey and doesn't want to see anyone. He sleeps late, refuses every phone call, but keeps playing his guitars, as if they were the only thing able to pull him out of the tunnel. The only person who manages to keep even minimal contact with him is Who guitarist Pete Townshend, who is thinking of putting together a band for a celebratory concert at the Rainbow Theatre in London. Officially organised to celebrate the United Kingdom's entry into the European Common Market, the show at the Rainbow in January 1973 is effectively an attempt by Townshend to get Eric back on his feet, almost two years after his last appearance at the "Concert For Bangladesh".

Eric agrees and begins rehearsing for his return to the stage at Ronnie Wood's house. With artists of the calibre of Jimmy Page, Elton John, George Harrison and Joe Cocker on board, the Rainbow concert doesn't have the hoped-for effect: Clapton realises he still isn't able to play live and, frustrated by his own performance, decides to disappear once again. "After the Rainbow concert, I went back into hiding," Clapton will later say. "I understood what Pete was trying to do, out of love for me, wanting to put me back on the music scene, but I simply wasn't ready."

With heroin abuse, Eric's life starts to become expensive to maintain. With no gigs or new albums coming in, Stigwood explains that funds are running low — especially to afford roughly eight thousand pounds (in today's money, ed.) a week on substances alone.

Finally, after months of seclusion, Eric decides to listen to his friends' advice and begins a detox program together with Alice. Dr. Meg Patterson, a Scottish-born neurosurgeon, has developed a therapy in China based on acupuncture. The treatment is slow and painful, but it bears the hoped-for fruit: by 1974 Eric Clapton is clean of drugs and can plan his big return to the music scene.

Resurrection – "Let It Grow"

At the start of 1974, Clapton leaves his house in Surrey to retreat to Alice's family farm. He decides to help her brother, Frank Gore, chop wood and milk cows, to regain the manual dexterity needed to play his Fender at his best. Frank is a music lover and the two have a great time together, as Eric returns to his guitar chords with newfound consistency. Between dawn wake-up calls and long, boozy evenings, Clapton rediscovers his smile and starts feeling better and better. The idea of a new solo album keeps gaining ground, and the chance to form a new band comes courtesy of his friend Carl Radle, who points him toward a group from Tulsa that includes keyboardist Dick Sims and drummer Jamie Oldaker. While still living his farm life, he's contacted again by Pete Townshend, who asks him to record "Eyesight To The Blind" for a musical film directed by Ken Russell and based on the Who's rock opera of the same name. Clapton agrees — also to return the favor after the Rainbow concert — and his version of the Sonny Boy Williamson classic effectively marks Slowhand's return to the big league.

It isn't just music that comes back into Clapton's life. After the darkness of drugs, Eric starts thinking intensely about Pattie Boyd again, despite all of Alice's efforts. Going out with George once more, Eric notices something strange about Pattie, as if this time she isn't quite so indifferent to his romantic yearnings.

In the spring of 1974, Robert Stigwood calls Clapton to sound out his real intentions: "Well, I've got some ideas. I think I want to record a new album." The timing is perfect, because Stigwood has already booked a flight to Miami, studio time with Tom Dowd, and a luxurious seaview house at 461 Ocean Boulevard.

On arrival at Miami airport, Eric is taken by Carl Radle to meet the other two members of the new band, including backing singer Yvonne Elliman, with whom he also spends time for less-than-professional reasons. In just over two months, the new lineup backs Clapton as he picks up his Blackie once again and records the album that will take its name from the same Miami Beach house, as a tribute to the address that brought him back to rock safe and sound.

Released in July, 461 Ocean Boulevard marks Eric Clapton's big comeback and the relaunch of his solo career four years after his self-titled debut. The adrenaline-fuelled riff of "Motherless Children" is almost a statement of intent, underlining how the slow hand of blues-rock has returned stronger than ever. As a tribute to the late Duane Allman, the slide guitar on the opening track nods to certain southern sounds, echoed again in the following dobro ballad "Give Me Strength".

461 Ocean Boulevard is a shrewd record, swaying along with a summery, funky-soul groove ("Willie And The Hand Jive", a Johnny Otis cover) and even venturing into white reggae with "I Shot The Sheriff", reportedly admired by Bob Marley himself and which went on to become one of Clapton's biggest commercial hits over the years.

Having only recently emerged from the drug tunnel, Clapton can't be at his very best, and wisely opts for a "laid down" sound, as heard for instance in the sinuous groove of "Get Ready". Embracing the "less is more" principle, the album dips into soft slide-blues passages ("I Can't Hold Out", an Elmore James cover) and delivers the country ballad "Let It Grow", which echoes the structure of "Layla", complete with an almost orchestral finale, proof of Eric's rediscovered songwriting touch.

Clapton's new band sounds as if it's running on autopilot, closing the album with the boogie blues of "Steady Rollin' Man" and, above all, the indestructible, made-in-USA riff of "Mainline Florida", backed by George Terry's wah-wah guitar.

May 1974. With the recording sessions in sunny Miami wrapped up, Clapton returns to England, determined to win Pattie Boyd's heart once and for all. His relationship with George seems to have reached the end of the road, and Eric makes his move: he has Townshend drive him to the Harrisons' house, and while Pete talks new music with George, Clapton talks to Pattie and asks her to come live with him.

That summer, Robert Stigwood is organizing the triumphant return to the stage of his restored guitarist, a six-week stadium tour following the massive commercial success of the Marley cover "I Shot The Sheriff". The 461 Ocean Boulevard tour kicks off on June 28 at the Yale Bowl stadium in New Haven, Connecticut, in front of an estimated crowd of 70,000. Backing him are the same musicians from the album: Carl Radle, Yvonne Elliman, Dick Sims. The run of shows is a huge success, with Clapton and the band having a wild time, full of backstage pranks and rivers of brandy. Not just a narrative detail, since Eric has traded his heroin addiction for one to alcohol, of which he has become a heavy consumer.

But a decisive turning point in his love life is on the horizon: in early July, Pattie joins him during a concert in Buffalo, having left George and determined to move to Los Angeles with her sister Jenny, Mick Fleetwood's wife. "That night, when I played 'Have You Ever Loved A Woman?', the words carried a truly special meaning."

Eric & Nell – "All Our Past Times"

Buoyed by the album's sales, the 461 Ocean Boulevard tour becomes Clapton's cash cow, keeping him on the road for almost all of 1974, with sold-out shows across the United States, Europe and Japan. But something, like a dark leit-motif running through Eric's life, doesn't add up: he's soaked in alcohol every night and increasingly on edge. People come to see him for the guitar solos, but he barely plays any. The whole tour is a huge commercial success, but Eric probably still wasn't ready to get back in the saddle.

Finally in love with the long-desired Pattie Boyd, Clapton is probably in no fit state for the relationship he'd longed for. He's completely drunk every night, and the romance with his "Nell" - as he calls her to avoid thinking about George's ex-wife - turns out very different from the one he'd imagined (and dreamed of) before the abyss of addiction. Eric often gives himself over to various women he meets along the tour, lost in alcoholic oblivion, as if the dream he'd finally achieved no longer meant anything.

At the end of 1974, producer Tom Dowd convinces him to take a musical trip to Jamaica, to ride the wave of commercial success sparked by his cover of "I Shot The Sheriff". On returning from Kingston, his mind steeped in reggae and cannabinoids, Eric records the tracks that will make up his next solo album.

With the same lineup, Clapton finishes There's One In Every Crowd, released in March 1975 on Rso, the Robert Stigwood Organisation. The album faithfully picks up the thread of 461 Ocean Boulevard, trying to repeat its commercial success with a polished, mellow, almost romantic sound. Following the label's directives, the album leans even further into reggae, but neither the classic "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" nor "Don't Blame Me" manage to pull off what "I Shot The Sheriff" did, simply because Clapton is not Bob Marley, and playing reggae as a white man is no easy feat - not even if you're the god of the blues.

Unlike "461", There's One In Every Crowd indulges too much in sunset-on-the-porch-with-a-guitar-in-hand atmospheres. The dobro-gospel "We've Been Told (Jesus Is Coming Soon)" is indeed like a lullaby, even if played by musicians of real calibre. Fortunately, Clapton still manages to pull off some top-class numbers, saving the album in the dying minutes. The sinuous, hushed boogie of "Little Rachel", the power-pop of "High", and above all the blues gem "The Sky Is Crying" give meaning to a record that clearly suffers from the troubled period its author was going through, still not fully recovered from the decline brought on by drugs.

After the release of There's One In Every Crowd, yet another loss creeps into Eric's life: this time it's his half-brother Brian, killed in a motorcycle accident in Canada. The event isn't among the most traumatic of his life: on Stigwood's advice, and to dodge the tax squeeze after the huge takings from the "461" tour, Eric and Nell move to the Bahamas to enjoy their long and lucrative honeymoon. Life in Nassau seems fantastic: sun, sea and, above all, cheap booze. Clapton keeps drinking and behaving absurdly, especially towards Pattie Boyd. One night he's even arrested in Tulsa for (alcoholic) resistance to a police officer.

In the summer of 1975 his first solo live album is released, recorded during several live sessions at Long Beach Arena during the 461 tour and in June 1975 at Providence Civic Center. E.C. Was Here is partly a tribute to songs of the past, ranging from the drowsy version of "Have You Ever Loved A Woman" to the pop-gospel renditions of "Presence Of The Lord" and "Can't Find My Way Home". The inspiration Clapton shows on this record is anaemic, only roused by the more blues-driven pieces like the sprawling "Driftin Blues" and Robert Johnson's "Ramblin' On My Mind".

To escape the tax-haven confinement of Nassau, Clapton turns to live shows and studio sessions with friends and colleagues. He plays live twice with the Stones and takes part in the early recording sessions for "Desire", the seventeenth album by Bob Dylan. Alongside Dylan, he also works with Richard Manuel and Rick Danko, piano and bass respectively in the group known as The Band.

Recorded between late 1975 and spring 1976 at Shangri-La Studios in Malibu, the album No Reason To Cry comes out at the end of August, produced by Rob Fraboni. Not by chance pictured on the cover with a bottle of Jim Beam whisky, Clapton continues down his path of sonic softening, this time almost overshadowed by, perhaps, too many guest stars in the studio. From the Danko-Manuel pairing on the country & gospel "Beautiful Thing" to Dylan's intrusion on the bland "Sign Language", the album is packed with famous guests who ultimately end up crowding each other out, leaving Clapton himself little room to put his own stamp on things. Even when he does manage it, Eric sticks to his pop-rock approach, as on the raucous "Carnival" and the tropicalist ballad "Hello Old Friend".

The album's most successful numbers are therefore, rather inevitably, the ones where Slowhand goes back to grittier blues sounds, like the Zeppelin-esque Delta blues of "County Jail Blues", the swaggering "Double Trouble" and the aching "Last Night". The return to blues purism - with three non-original songs, no less - somehow saves the whole record, much as it had already done (perhaps slightly more successfully) on There's One In Every Crowd. What doesn't seem to work, though, is precisely the pop direction Clapton took after coming out of the heroin tunnel, as in the excessive use of backing vocals on "Innocent Times" and "All Our Past Times", which make No Reason To Cry a rather flat record.

In the spring of 1976, after an entire year spent in the Bahamas and several concerts in Australia and Japan, Eric and Nell decide to go home to enjoy a spell of domestic peace, between odd jobs and the usual epic pub sessions. At the end of the year, Clapton is invited by Robbie Robertson to take part in a major concert to be held on Thanksgiving Day at the Winterland Ballroom in San Francisco. Filmed by Martin Scorsese, the show will be a star-studded parade for The Last Waltz, the Band's farewell live performance.

In the spring of 1977, while Pattie Boyd is getting ready for yet another night out, Eric is strumming his guitar as he waits, and tells her: "Look, you're beautiful tonight, don't change again, let's go out, or we'll be late." And so is born one of Clapton's most famous hits since "Layla", the song that puts him back at the top of the charts and back in the good graces of mainstream music critics.

November 1977. The album Slowhand is produced by Glyn Johns, who had already worked with rock giants such as the Rolling Stones, the Who and Led Zeppelin. After his experience with Dylan and the Band, Clapton returns to his usual lineup with Radle, Sims and Oldaker, but this time he also drops the blander compositions in favour of a more solid, well-thought-out album, befitting a true guitar hero. Triple platinum with three million copies sold in the United States, Slowhand opens with one of the most famous riffs of his entire career: "Cocaine" is the rock anthem against drugs, even though its rather ambiguous lyrics would lead to heavy censorship in several countries around the world, Argentina first and foremost. But "Cocaine" is above all the anthem that gives unexpected exposure to the master of the Tulsa sound, J.J. Cale, already honoured by Clapton on "After Midnight".

If "Cocaine" restores Slowhand's taste for the hard-blues riff, it's the honeyed ballad "Wonderful Tonight" that shoots him straight into the musical consciousness of millions of new listeners, especially female ones. His gift for songwriting seems to have returned, even on seemingly minor numbers like the Tulsa-flavoured gallop of "Lay Down Sally" and the country-pop of "Next Time You See Her". The hand of sound wizard Glyn Johns is pretty clear throughout, for instance in the robust soul-blues of "The Core" and the electrified Delta sound of "Mean Old Frisco".

By the end of 1977, Clapton's problems with alcohol are getting worse. A concert in London is cut short after just forty minutes, while the German press runs the headline: "Eric Clapton - too drunk to play". Eric and the band keep touring, riding the commercial success of Slowhand, but it's one long string of drunken antics and mishaps.

In November 1978, the new album Backless is released, again produced by Glyn Johns. The album coasts on autopilot after the success of Slowhand, trying to play it safe in the absence of any fresh compositional spark. If its predecessor opened with the immortal riff of "Cocaine", Backless is introduced by the Dylan-esque "Walk Out In The Rain". Clapton once again blends the Oklahoma sound — "I'll Make Love To You Anytime" again draws from the J.J. Cale catalogue, while the barrelhouse "Tulsa Time" comes from Danny Flowers — with the primordial blues of "Early In The Morning" and the neurotic soul of the successful "Roll It", featuring Marcy Levy on vocals.

Backless is a double-speed record, on one hand held back by the usual dose of dull, saccharine pop-rock ("Tell Me That You Love Me"), on the other capable of offering the listener some solid grooves ("If I Don't Be There By Morning", again written by Dylan). Above all, Clapton's new hit, the pop shuffle "Promises", climbs the charts, even though it hardly deserves much attention.

By the end of the year, things between Eric and Pattie aren't going too well: he's constantly drunk, out touring, and above all confesses to her several affairs. Until Clapton falls for a young woman named Jenny Mclean. The two are found out by Nell, who packs her bags and moves in with her sister Jenny in Los Angeles. At that point Eric has a change of heart and reconsiders his decisions: he leaves Jenny and asks Pattie to marry him. The two exchange wedding vows on March 27, 1979 in Tucson, Arizona, at the start of another long US tour.

Message in a bottle – "I Can't Stand It"

The marriage to Pattie Boyd is just a flash of happiness amid yet another dark moment in Eric Clapton's life, now in an advanced stage of alcohol dependency. Guitarist George Terry decides to leave him, replaced by Albert Lee, an English musician known for his incredible fingerpicking technique. Gripped by a new wave of paranoia, Clapton decides to fire the members of his band dating back to "461", before hiring keyboardist Chris Stainton — already a member of Joe Cocker's band — bassist Dave Markee and drummer Henry Spinetti. With the new lineup, at the end of 1979 he embarks on another Japanese tour, performing at Tokyo's Budokan theatre on the nights of December 3 and 4.

It is precisely at the Budokan that the double live album Just One Night is recorded, released in April 1980 and immediately entering the Top 5 in both the United States and the United Kingdom. The onstage chemistry with "Mr. Telecaster" Albert Lee is magical, allowing Clapton to turn out one of the best live albums of his career.

On the sprawling Just One Night, the blues returns to centre stage — dirty, raw and aching blues. From "Early In The Morning" to the previously unreleased cover of Big Maceo Merriweather's "Worried Life Blues", Lee's fingerpicking is more than just a backdrop for Clapton's solos, who sounds in rediscovered form after years of soft pop-rock. What truly makes the Budokan performance remarkable, though, is the two guitarists' ability to breathe new life into minor tracks from the recent period, from "Tulsa Time" to "Lay Down Sally". On the album's final side, the medley of "Ramblin' On My Mind"/"Have You Ever Loved A Woman" and the extended version of "Cocaine" bring the house down with the Japanese audience.

Even as his problems with alcohol worsen year after year, Just One Night is the roar of the guitar hero back on the run through the savannah of blues-rock.

After the Japanese shows, Clapton thinks back to his friend Carl Radle, pushed out of the band after years of touring together. When he tries to get back in touch with him, he discovers the bassist has died tragically from a serious kidney condition after years of drug and alcohol abuse. The trail of death in Slowhand's life grows longer, plunging him into a new period of depression in the company of his drinks.

Early 1981. Live activity carries on relentlessly, with nearly sixty dates in the United States alone. Clapton starts combining alcohol with a kind of codeine-based sedative called Veganin, mainly to fight off the constant hangovers. The situation comes to a head during the Madison, Wisconsin date: Eric collapses to the ground and is rushed to hospital, where he is diagnosed with no fewer than five ulcers. To avoid fatal complications, Clapton is hospitalised for six weeks, treated with an anti-ulcer drug called Cimetidine. More than fifty US dates are cancelled, but the hospital stay allows him to return to a decent psycho-physical state.

His recording career doesn't skip a beat: in February Another Ticket is released, featuring Gary Brooker of Procol Harum. The album confirms the excellent performing synergy built with Albert Lee, driven by the syncopated hit "I Can't Stand It". Recorded in Nassau, Another Ticket is in better shape than its author, as shown by the muscular blues of "Blow Wind Blow" and the dobro-driven "Hold Me Lord". Although the title track strays into mawkish pop, the album is enriched by top-class numbers: "Floating Bridge", a cover of Sleepy John Estes, showcases all of Mr. Telecaster's mastery of fingerpicking, as do the closing funky numbers "Catch Me If You Can" and "Rita Mae".

Out of hospital, Clapton has never been in better shape — but only physically. His depression doesn't go away, and it quickly drives him back to the bottle, heedless of his ulcers. One evening, at a restaurant with friends, he suddenly collapses, gripped by a previously dormant form of epilepsy. Pattie locks him in his room on Christmas Eve to stop him from behaving erratically. By the end of 1981, Eric becomes convinced he has a serious problem and asks for help for the first time, admitting he is an alcoholic.

January 1982. Clapton departs from Gatwick Airport, bound for Minneapolis, specifically for the Hazelden centre, said to be the best in the world for treating alcohol dependency. On the outbound flight, Eric drinks the plane dry, terrified at the thought of never being able to down a drop of scotch again. When he arrives at the centre's doors, Slowhand is terrified, wanting to flee what looks like a maximum-security prison. And in a way it is, since Clapton shares his room with a New York firefighter named Tommy, who has absolutely no idea who any of the gods of the blues are.

Months pass at the Hazelden centre, which ultimately lives up to its reputation and returns him to Pattie fully detoxified. Against doctors' advice — who had strongly urged him to avoid stressful situations to prevent relapse — Clapton goes back into the studio in Nassau with producer Tom Dowd at the end of 1982. The first sessions are a disaster, as Eric is unable to work at a demanding pace. Manager Roger Forrester advises him to overhaul his band entirely, keeping only Albert Lee. Roger Hawkins comes in on drums, and bass legend Donald "Duck" Dunn — formerly of Booker T. & The M.G.'s and fresh off an appearance in the cult movie "The Blues Brothers" — takes over on bass. Virtuoso multi-instrumentalist Ry Cooder also joins the Nassau sessions.

Titled Money And Cigarettes because "they were the only things I had left", Clapton's eighth solo album is released in February 1983 on Warner Bros. The record feels like the result of a futile, ill-advised effort. Despite the presence of top-tier musicians, Money And Cigarettes adds nothing and takes nothing away from Clapton's journey, psychologically drained and physically unable to record a track without collapsing under another epileptic attack.

From the Stones-style boogie of "Slow Down Linda" to the stomp-blues of "Crosscut Saw", the album is a string of tracks with little bite or compositional spark, as if played by a bunch of musicians thrown together just for the sake of making a record. With the exception of the elegant neurosis of "Everybody Oughta Make a Change" and the boogie of "The Shape You're In", Money And Cigarettes feels like mere filler in Clapton's recording career.

At the start of 1984, Eric forges a close friendship with former Genesis drummer Phil Collins, having already played on his solo debut, "Face Value", in 1981. The two often rehearse new songs together, joined by returning drummer Jamie Oldaker and synth player Peter Robinson, who helps shape a sound that's entirely new for Clapton's usual standards. Recording of the new material moves along quickly, even though Slowhand hasn't completely given up drinking after learning from doctors about his wife Pattie's fertility problems.

In the spring, Clapton agrees to take part in the recording sessions for the album by his friend Roger Waters, "The Pros And Cons Of Hitch Hiking". The record comes out in late April, and the two set off together on a tour of Europe and the United States in June and July. During the tour, Clapton goes back to drinking heavily, this time fully aware of the problem and terrified of having to return to the Hazelden clinic. Another clear sign of his now untenable situation arrives in the form of a letter from Warner Bros, his new label: the material submitted for the new album isn't good enough. It's the first time the blues god has had one of his records rejected.

As if that weren't enough, on returning from the tour with Waters he discovers that Pattie Boyd, thoroughly sick of his mix of alcoholism and depression, has started a relationship with a photographer — ironically, the brother of Roger's own wife. By the end of 1984, before setting off on a tour of Australia, Clapton is completely broken, devastated by the drink that has cost him both his wife and his creative drive.

In a terrible state, physically and mentally, Eric throws himself into music, partly (and above all) to avoid slipping back into heavy drinking. With his new friend Phil Collins, he re-records the material rejected by Warner, which ends up on the album Behind The Sun, released in early 1985. Despite the involvement of top-tier musicians, from Lindsey Buckingham to Nathan East, the album is only worth mentioning for a handful of tracks (and not even those are fully convincing). From the scratchy opener "She's Waiting" onward, it clearly shows the influence of two sounds: Collins' own production style and the most trite synthetic textures of the Eighties. While the cover of "Knock On Wood" was probably included to keep Donald "Duck" Dunn happy, the limp boogie of "Forever Man" and the long synth-heavy version of "Same Old Blues" tell the story of an uninspired album, the creative output of a man who seems to have completely lost himself.

The Australian tour is far from his best: Albert Lee's guitar is missing, replaced by Pete Robinson's synthesizer. The sound is completely different, much more disorienting even for Eric himself, who starts to notice the first warning signs of more serious hearing problems. While he's playing on the other side of the world, his split from Pattie Boyd reaches the press, who make the story of the divorce public.

At the start of summer 1985, Clapton gets a call from Townshend, inviting him to take part in a massive charity event organized by Bob Geldof to raise money for famine victims in Ethiopia. On July 13th, in front of 100,000 spectators at the John F. Kennedy Stadium in Philadelphia, Eric plays "White Room", "Layla" and the new "She's Waiting" alongside his inseparable Phil Collins and Donald "Duck" Dunn.

After taking part in Live Aid, he begins a tour of Italy. After the Milan date, Clapton meets Lory Del Santo for the first time; by the second half of the Eighties she has withdrawn from the spotlight after appearing in Nando Cicero's film "W la foca" and Romolo Guerrieri's "La Gorilla". Del Santo is best known in Italy for appearing on the TV show "Drive In", and she immediately catches Eric's eye with her voluptuous, southern-Italian-girl looks, even though she was actually born in the Veneto region. By the time Slowhand returns to the UK after the Italian tour, his relationship with Pattie Boyd is well and truly over: he tells her he wants to give up everything and move to Milan, the capital of fashion, where Lory works as a model and has forged close ties with the Versace and Armani families. And so he does it — he moves to Milan, entering Lory's world, where she is a star of the Italian celebrity scene and knows everyone: footballers, actors, politicians, musicians. Eric falls so hard that he tells her right away he wants a child, something he was never able to have with Pattie. Del Santo agrees, but there's one detail that — as Clapton would later recall — unsettles him: in every photo of her, no matter who she's with, Lory always wears the exact same smile, which isn't really a smile at all, but a grimace.

"In quel momento esatto ho capito che eravamo condannati".

Condannato — "Tears In Heaven"

After a brief spell in Rome, Clapton and Lory Del Santo move to London, where Slowhand begins recording material for his next studio album. Despite his passion for Lory, Eric is well aware that their relationship isn't built to last, and when he admits as much, she replies: "That's really not good news, because I'm pregnant". Clapton is seized by total panic, gets in his car and flees to Pattie's, who gives him a cold welcome, in the company of her new boyfriend. At this point, decades of abuse and suffering come crashing down on him like a landslide: he takes 5 mg of Valium and falls asleep, convinced he'll never wake up again.

He wakes up anyway, much to his own dismay. Lory has gone back to Milan to get on with her life, while Eric returns to the house in Surrey where Pattie has been staying. Months of hellish cohabitation follow, until he finally decides to throw her out, none too gently. It's all over again: Slowhand sinks back into a comatose, vegetative state.

In the spring of 1986, Clapton flies to Los Angeles to record new studio material, once again with Phil Collins and, this time, also with his old producer Tom Dowd. Eric is in fact worried that the former Genesis man never really understood his sound, after the failed experiment of Behind The Sun. August is released at the end of the year, featuring other star guests such as trumpeter Randy Brecker and, above all, America's reigning Black diva, Tina Turner.

Despite the attempt to bring in Dowd to rein in Collins' ideas, the album is another colossal misfire. The synthetic textures come roaring back, once again mixed with the soppiest, flabbiest pop. With a few exceptions — the gritty funk numbers "Run" and "Tearing Us Apart", the latter featuring Tina Turner — the album is sloppy to the point of being almost unlistenable. As so often happens, the record is carried by its hit single, "It's In The Way That You Use It", co-written with Robbie Robertson and featured on the soundtrack of the hit film "The Color of Money", starring Paul Newman and Tom Cruise. The album sells nearly a million copies between the US and UK and is in fact one of the biggest bestsellers of his entire recording career, despite being arguably his worst album ever.

Recording sessions for the dreadful August continue throughout the spring of 1986, amid a return to cocaine and fresh rivers of alcohol. Back in England, Clapton tries to patch things up with Lory Del Santo, who is convinced the baby should be born outside Italy. Conor Loren Clapton is born on August 21, 1986 in London, at St. Mary's Hospital in Paddington. Eric, like all new fathers, is terrified, but the moment he holds little Conor in his arms he immediately realizes he's dealing "for the first time with something real", and that he needs to make a clean break "from all the bullshit". The trouble is that Clapton has gone back to drinking heavily and regularly, and during an Australian tour in 1987 he again starts suffering from tremors in his hands. On November 21, 1987, the inevitable moment finally arrives for him to return to treatment at the Hazelden clinic, to get clean once more, given his role as a father as much as a man and a guitarist.

The Hazelden treatment doesn't last very long, as he's back home with Lory and Conor by Christmas. During 1988, Clapton performs alongside Dire Straits and Elton John at the Nelson Mandela 70th Birthday Tribute at Wembley Stadium, followed by the Prince's Trust rock gala at the famed Royal Albert Hall. To fill the gap in his discography, and not lose the momentum of August's success, Polydor hands Bill Levenson the task of compiling the tracklists for the four discs that make up the box set Crossroads, released that spring.

Crossroads is a monumental work, over 290 minutes of music offering a complete retrospective of Clapton's career. Levenson's work as "compiler" is excellent, especially across the first three discs – the fourth is really a collection of his more recent, mixed-success hits, with the exception of the blistering live versions of "Further On Up The Road" and "Double Trouble" – because it manages to avoid the greatest hits effect and dig into Eric's many different experiences across more than twenty years of career. It opens with the garage-beat of the Yardbirds on John Lee Hooker's "Boom Boom", moving through to the stuttering "I Ain't Got You" and the band's first hit, "For Your Love". Equally valuable is the recovery of material tied to the Bluesbreakers years, such as the primal blues of "Lonely Years" and the gem of a live version of "Have You Ever Loved A Woman".

The Cream section is less focused on rarities, aside from the traditional "Lawdy Mama" and "Steppin' Out", recorded live at the BBC studios. From there it moves on to the delta blues of "Sleeping In The Ground" (with Blind Faith) and, of course, to the masterful section devoted to Derek And The Dominos. From the gleaming country-soul of the single "Roll It Over" to the acoustic slide duet with Duane Allman on "Mean Old World", this section revisits the so-called "Layla Sessions", a genuine goldmine given that not every song made it onto Layla And Other Assorted Love Songs. The box set's importance thus lies in its historical value, since it rescues legendary live versions – above all "Key To The Highway" and "Crossroads" – and features songs originally intended for the second album, such as the choral "Got To Get Better In A Little While", the soul-flavoured cover of Willie Dixon's "Evil", the dobro-blues of "One More Chance" and "Mean Old Frisco", and the traditional "Snake Lake Blues".

The Crossroads operation is a winner: despite its biblical runtime, the box set sells over three million copies worldwide and allows Clapton to join the select circle of artists who've cracked the Top 100 with a box set, placing second only to Elvis Presley.

Back to sobriety, Clapton throws himself headlong into music, working with new producer Russ Titelman and an impressive roster of guests, including his friend George Harrison, blues guitarist Robert Cray, Daryl Hall, drummer Jim Keltner and the in-demand Italian-born session bassist Pino Palladino. All of them answer the call of Slowhand, who is planning his comeback record following rehab.

Regarded by Clapton himself as one of his favourite albums, Journeyman is an incredibly solid record, carried by Titelman's work, which strikes a perfect balance between synth-driven pop – Phil Collins is still in the picture – and a roaring blues that revives the glory of riffs and solos, aided in no small part by Robert Cray's invaluable contribution. As if suddenly restored to full splendour after yet another stint in rehab, Clapton delivers a record with very little filler, even though he draws heavily on other people's material, especially the catalogue of American songwriter Jerry Lynn Williams. The sonic proof of this new direction can be heard above all in the punchy pop-rock of "Pretending" and in "Bad Love", which, while still anchored to an eighties-style sound, unleashes one of the best electric guitar performances of his last fifteen years.

Beyond the Grammy Award won in 1990 for Best Male Rock Vocal Performance and the double-platinum certification from the RIAA in the States – Journeyman gets everything right, winning over listeners even in its slower moments, such as the moving gospel prayer "Running On Faith" and "Run So Far" with friend George Harrison. The record's real gem, though, is the aching blues of "Old Love", on which Slowhand duets as an equal with Robert Cray, while the roar of the Fender Blackie on the classic "Before You Accuse Me" brings things full circle after nearly an hour of inspired, convincing music that is (finally) worthy of his name.

Journeyman is released in November 1989, and Clapton embarks on a long promotional tour over the following two years. Between 1990 and 1991, Slowhand plays no fewer than 42 shows at London's Royal Albert Hall alone, setting a record of 24 consecutive nights between 5 February and 9 March 1991. The fruit of this intense run of live activity is the lengthy double live album titled, fittingly, 24 Nights. Again produced by Russ Titelman for the Reprise label, the record is split almost perfectly in two: on one side, the purest, most aching blues; on the other, the recent hits from Journeyman and an orchestral version, conducted by Michael Kamen, of "Edge Of Darkness", which Clapton composed in 1985 as the theme for the British TV series of the same name. For the Royal Albert Hall marathon, he chooses exceptional companions, such as the talented Robert Cray and the legendary Buddy Guy. Thanks to them, highlights include the gems "Watch Yourself", "Worried Life Blues" and "Hoodoo Man", as well as the sprawling version of the new "Old Love" on the second disc. Having recently released a thoroughly solid album, Clapton is in great form, both stretching out live staples like "Sunshine Of Your Love" and offering further proof of the quality of his latest studio record.

At the end of the summer of 1990, during the US leg of the Journeyman tour, another ghost appears in Clapton's life. On 26 August, the celebrated Texan guitarist Stevie Ray Vaughan performs with his band Double Trouble ahead of Eric at the Alpine Valley Music Theatre, a ski resort in Vermont. The concert is memorable, culminating in a jam of over 15 minutes with Slowhand, Robert Cray and Buddy Guy. Once the show ends, Vaughan is exhausted and asks Clapton for permission to take his place on the first helicopter leaving for the hotel in Chicago. Clapton agrees and lets him go, taking the next flight himself. At dawn the following morning, a phone call leaves him in shock: the helicopter carrying Vaughan has crashed into a hillside due to thick fog and the pilot's lack of experience – Eric himself would later recall thinking something terrible had happened, but saying nothing so as not to be seen as someone prone to panic – also killing crew members Bobby Brooks, Nigel Browne and Colin Smythe.

But this is only the first ghost to appear.

On 19 March 1991, Clapton is in New York, getting ready to pick up his son Conor, intending to take him to the circus on Long Island. It's the first time he's taking him out on his own, and he feels a mix of nerves and excitement. Lory Del Santo has a new boyfriend, Sylvio, and Eric now seems determined to take care of his son, having genuinely given up drinking. At 11 in the morning, the phone rings: Lory is hysterical, screaming that Conor is dead.

This is ridiculous, how can he be dead? Are you sure?

Clapton races towards the apartment along Park Avenue, before finding himself facing a swarm of police officers and yellow tape marking off the scene. Conor Loren Clapton has fallen from the 49th floor, slipping past the cleaning lady and Lory.

At the funeral, Eric cannot find the words or any plausible explanation, devastated at seeing his son's body completely destroyed by the impact. He is flooded with messages of condolence from all over the world, from ordinary fans to the Kennedy family. The grief crushes him, yet at the same time it strengthens him: he does not give in to the bottle, despite its overwhelming pull.

Back to the Blues – "Blues Leave Me Alone"

In the months following his son's death, Clapton decides to leave the villa in Surrey and split his time between his London apartment and a new villa he's bought on the Caribbean island of Antigua. Sober for three years now, Slowhand deals with the pain in the way he knows best. In a sort of trilogy of anguish, Eric writes in solitude the songs "Circus", "My Father's Eyes" and, above all, the heartbreaking pop ballad "Tears In Heaven", which is first released on the soundtrack to the crime-drama Rush. The entire soundtrack is composed by Clapton with his new sidemen, from pianist Chuck Leavell to drummer Steve Ferrone. Rush is an album largely devoted to modest instrumental soft-rock, redeemed at the end only by the first recorded version of the wrenching tribute to his dead son.

The single "Tears In Heaven" strikes an emotional chord with half the world: listeners, already devastated by the news, appreciate Clapton's raw sincerity and send the song to the top of charts around the globe. Riding the wave of grief, youth broadcaster MTV asks Slowhand to put together a completely acoustic tracklist for its concert series called Unplugged. Eric agrees, and on the evening of January 16, 1992 he takes the stage at Bray Film Studios in Windsor, alongside Andy Fairweather Low, Chuck Leavell and Nathan East.

Released by Reprise/MTV in August, Unplugged is above all famous for its massive commercial success: 26 million copies sold worldwide, six Grammy Awards in 1993, diamond certification in the US with over 10 million copies sold, and to this day one of the best-selling live albums in the history of popular music. But Unplugged is, more than anything, a heartfelt, authentic record, perhaps the expression of the sheer class of a man who has survived his own demons. Clapton chooses to rearrange only two classic songs — both from the Dominos era, namely the anthem "Layla" and the saloon-style version of "Nobody Knows You When You're Down & Out" — filling the rest of the acoustic live set with blues gems like "Hey Hey" (Big Bill Broonzy), "Walking Blues" (Son House) and the kazoo-driven romp "San Francisco Bay Blues" (Jesse Fuller). Even though the album's success is largely driven by "Tears In Heaven" and a masterful version of the country-gospel "Running On Faith", Unplugged is an atypical chapter in Slowhand's discography, almost a human dividing line between the drug-and-alcohol-soaked guitarist and the man mourning a son who never got to grow up.

The success of Unplugged brings Clapton back out on tour around the world, while his spirit grows ever freer of addiction, having also given up smoking. He begins a new relationship with another Italian woman, Francesca, who brings him back to Italy in the company of his friend Giorgio Armani. In early 1994, Polydor releases the double live album Derek And The Dominos Live At The Fillmore, recorded in October 1970 at the famous Fillmore East in New York.

Earning top marks if only for the orgasmic, cosmic wah-wah ride of "Let It Rain" — perhaps the greatest live performance of Clapton's career, perfectly backed by the unshakeable Radle/Gordon rhythm section — Live At The Fillmore is a genuine godsend for Dominos fans. By the end of 1970, the band's form and chemistry are extraordinary, all four ready to launch into torrential jam sessions built around classics like "Key To The Highway", "Have You Ever Loved A Woman" and "Little Wing". But it's the nearly twenty minutes of "Let It Rain" that best capture the immense talent of four musicians who parted ways far too soon.

In September 1994, From The Cradle is released, once again produced by Russ Titelman for Warner. The album marks a decisive return to old-school American blues, as if to distance itself from the poppier atmospheres of his recent records. But at the same time it's a "non-original" work, in the sense that it simply rearranges other people's songs. Starting with the gritty roar of the riff on "Blues Before Sunrise" (Leroy Carr), From The Cradle is a well-crafted album, played with style even if it betrays a perhaps overly white, middle-class approach to the Delta tradition. Still, the Clapton-Titelman pairing manages to produce a well-balanced record, poised between electric fervor — from "It Hurts Me Too" (Tampa Red) to "I'm Tore Down" (Sonny Thompson) — and aching, prayer-like moments, as in the excellent version of "Third Degree" (Willie Dixon). It's true: Clapton seems to want to pay tribute to the blues by domesticating it, making it safer even while his vocals roar. But if From The Cradle hits the mark and sells so well, it's only because you'd have to be a god to pull it off.

After the release of From The Cradle — another major commercial success, winning a Grammy in 1995 for Best Traditional Blues Album — Clapton goes back on the road with the devil's music, stripped down, hard and raw. Between late 1994 and the early months of 1995, two more ghosts enter Slowhand's life: first his grandmother Rose, taken by cancer, then his ex-girlfriend Alice, who never recovered from drug addiction — and here Clapton himself would later admit to having played a significant part — and who died of a heroin overdose. Spurred on by Alice's tragic death, Eric begins seriously considering the idea of providing substantial funding for an addiction recovery center for alcohol and drugs. Together with Richard Conte, CEO of London's Priory Hospitals Group, Clapton will found — though only in 1998 — the Crossroads Centre on the island of Antigua, as if wanting to give back to the community part of the money he earned over a career plagued by substance abuse.

After the 1995 compilation The Cream Of Clapton, Polydor decides to repeat the Crossroads formula with another massive box set released in spring 1996. With more than 260 minutes of music from 1974-1978, Crossroads 2: Live In The Seventies is another monumental anthology drawing on various Slowhand live performances from the 461 Ocean Boulevard era onward, mainly from Long Beach Arena and the Hammersmith Odeon in London. Unlike the first box set, Polydor's work here is less carefully assembled — on the first disc, "Have You Ever Loved A Woman" and "Ramblin' On My Mind" each turn up in different versions at least three times — and prefers to tell the story of Clapton's seventies career through big hits like "Layla", "I Shot The Sheriff" and a sprawling version of "Badge".

Still, there are gems that make the new box set another treasure for rock-blues lovers, above all the magnificent nearly 25-minute Latin marathon with Carlos Santana on "Eyesight To The Blind/Why Does Love Got To Be So Sad?". Crossroads 2 is thus essential listening for anyone wanting to fully appreciate Clapton's touring career in the mid-Seventies, from the liturgy of "Stormy Monday" to the erotic dance of slide guitars on "Mean Old Frisco".

In mid-1997, Clapton confides to his friend, drummer Steve Gadd, that he wants to make "the saddest album of all time". It's been since Journeyman that Slowhand has released an album of original new material, and his new collaboration with songwriter and producer Simon Climie leads to Pilgrim, released in March 1998 with a horrendous sci-fi cover illustrated by Yoshiyuki Sadamoto. The album is an inexplicable mystery in Slowhand's discography: he revisits two tear-jerking songs written after Conor's death — "My Father's Eyes" and "Circus" — but chooses to rearrange them (like the whole record) with an atrocious mix of drum machines, synthesizers and R&B orchestration. The result is a bloated album (over 75 minutes) that proves how, sometimes, music has no healing power at all against grief.

Aside from (perhaps) the country & western gallop of "Fall Like Rain" and a few rough blues numbers ("Sick And Tired"), the album is a total flop, stuffed with pointless soft-rock ballads, like the grating "River Of Tears" and the endless "Broken Hearted". Ultimately, rather than "the saddest album ever made", Pilgrim is the lowest point Eric Clapton's career has ever reached.

The new direction taken with Pilgrim — which, incredibly, counts among Clapton's major commercial successes with over a million copies sold in the United States — doesn't sit well at all with his longtime manager Roger Forrester, who after more than thirty years of faithful service is shown the door. In March 1999, his mother Patricia Molly dies, perhaps the most decisive figure in Eric's entire life.

At the end of June, Madison Square Garden in New York hosts the first edition of the Crossroads Guitar Festival, the massive charity concert organized by Clapton himself to raise funds for his namesake center in Antigua. Artists performing at the festival include Mary J. Blige, his new partner Sheryl Crow and Bob Dylan. The format is an immediate hit with audiences and will be brought back several times, right up to its final edition in 2019.

As if trying to erase the horrendous Pilgrim, Polygram releases in July 1999 the double compilation Blues. The collection is less sprawling than the Crossroads project — "just" two and a half hours — split into two sides (studio and live), but entirely devoted to Clapton's roots in the devil's music. From the previously unreleased acoustic and electric versions of "Before You Accuse Me" (taken from the "Backless" sessions) to classics like "Alberta" and "County Jail Blues", the double album Blues is particularly well received by critics, but its sheer quality is also something of a warning sign: has Clapton's career by now settled into a (forced) eternal return to blues tradition? Because the gap becomes ever more obvious between the over twelve-minute version of "Stormy Monday" on the second disc of Blues and the combo of "Blue Eyes Blue" + "Change The World" on the subsequent compilation Clapton Chronicles, where Slowhand drops two dreadful big tearjerker ballads co-written with Babyface.

At the dawn of the new millennium, Clapton is truly a changed man on a personal level. In 1998, he met Melia McEnery at an exclusive party, a twenty-two-year-old from Columbus, Ohio, working as a sales executive for the famous Armani fashion brand. Melia politely asks the blues legend for an autograph, and Eric realizes she's the one with whom he can finally build a genuinely equal and lasting romantic relationship.

In June 2000 came Riding With The King, the long-awaited album with idol and friend B.B. King. For the occasion, the usual great sessionmen were recruited – Doyle Bramhall II and Andy Fairweather Low on guitars, Nathan East on bass and Steve Gadd on drums – coordinated by Clapton's then-recent producer, Simon Climie. The album was an immediate commercial success – double platinum in the US – and sealed the return to blues primitivism begun with From The Cradle and then brutally interrupted by Pilgrim. The Clapton-King pairing obviously works, blending two different guitar styles on the radio hit "Riding With The King", but above all on the elegant "Three O'Clock Blues". It must be said, though, that the album doesn't quite live up to the fame and respect earned by its two authors on the world stage: tracks like "Key To The Highway", "Marry You" and "Help The Poor" feel too polished for a genuine blues record. As if to say, legends are fine, but a blues that doesn't get its hands dirty isn't really blues. Ultimately, it's almost a missed opportunity, a good record for fans, but Clapton and B.B. King never manage to create anything magical together.

A few months later, Melia tells Eric she's pregnant, shortly before the start of a long world tour with new musicians including Billy Preston (already a veteran of the Beatles and the Stones) and David Sancious from Springsteen's E Street Band. The lengthy string of concerts is meant to promote Reptile, a new studio album dedicated to the memory of his uncle Adrian, released in March 2001 on Reprise.

The Family Man – "Back Home"

Unveiled over the course of a long world tour, Reptile is perhaps the album that marks Eric Clapton's definitive entry into the ranks of rock's dinosaurs. The aching acoustic melody of "Son & Sylvia", closing the album, is almost a manifesto for this new chapter: Eric the junkie, the alcoholic, the womanizer no longer exists, replaced by a calm, loving family man, a rocker who enjoys touring and is respected across the entire musical landscape. Still produced by Simon Climie, Reptile is a "comfortable" record, well played of course, but devoid of any artistic ambition beyond simply being "the new Eric Clapton album".

Starting right from the title track, an odd bossa nova for acoustic guitars, the album is just a collection of songs blending soul ("Got You In My Mind"), the old Tulsa sound (another nod to J.J. Cale with "Travelin' Light") and Clapton's latest soft-rock indulgences ("Modern Girl"). The result is a thoroughly anonymous record, one that pushes Slowhand into a new phase of his life: that of the family man and the ageing stadium-filling rocker.

On 15 June 2001 Julie Rose Clapton is born, followed in January 2003 by Ella Mae. After the tragedy he lived through with Conor – and with drugs – Eric just wants to build a family life with his wife. The only bad news comes with the death, in late November 2001, of his close friend George Harrison. Slowhand will perform "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" live at the memorial concert at the Royal Albert Hall exactly a year after the death of the former Beatle.

In November 2002 his new live album One More Car, One More Rider also came out, recorded over two nights of the Reptile tour at the Staples Center in Los Angeles. Split into acoustic and electric sets, the double live album is for the most part a string of performances lacking real bite, especially in the first half, where new songs like "Reptile", "Got You In My Mind" and "Change The World" are trotted out with little variation.

Clapton's live showing on the 2001 world tour is rather bland, fine for a greatest hits show but obviously light years away from the blues fire he ignited in the '70s. This is so evident that the album only really catches light on the electric set on disc two, when the extended classics return: "Have You Ever Loved A Woman", "Layla" and "Sunshine Of Your Love".

At the end of 2003, Clapton reunites with his producer Simon Climie and his trusted new band, including Nathan East, Doyle Bramhall II and Andy Fairweather Low. The goal is to work on new material for an album, but the sessions prove unproductive, going nowhere. It's here that Eric, almost as a joke, suggests running through a few covers of his absolute idol Robert Johnson, as if to fill a creative void. The tribute album Me And Mr. Johnson – released in March 2004 – comes about this way, almost by chance, though in truth it was strongly willed by Slowhand himself, a way to finally settle his artistic debt to the legendary guitarist who died poisoned at 27. For his personal homage to the bluesman from Hazlehurst, Clapton chooses fourteen of the mere twenty-nine songs Johnson recorded during his brief but dazzling solo career.

From the barrelhouse piano of "They're Red Hot" to the boogie of "Stop Breakin' Down", Me And Mr. Johnson is undeniably a heartfelt, genuine record. Backed by an all-star cast of musicians – Doyle Bramhall II shines on the drowsy "Little Queen Of Spades" and the martial "Milkcow's Calf Blues", perhaps the most successful track here – Slowhand crafts a tribute album that's maybe too reminiscent of the electric atmospheres of From The Cradle ("If I Had Possession Over Judgement Day"). As if to say, a parade of star musicians is all well and good, but the record feels a bit too comfortable and (perhaps) too Clapton-esque to truly grasp the legend of the bluesman who made a pact with the devil.

Rounding out the project, late 2004 saw the release of Sessions For Robert J, which documents – including on a DVD – the making of the previous album. The record features the new additions "Sweet Home Chicago" (which practically sounds like a cover of the Blues Brothers), "Terraplane Blues" and the oft-performed "Ramblin' On My Mind". Paradoxically, the session-format versions sound sharper and dirtier than those polished up by Simon Climie for the original album, finally doing justice to the project through which Eric Clapton pays tribute to Johnson's genius.

Between October and November 2004, recording begins on what Clapton himself calls "the family album", the record that captures in real time his newfound role as Family Man, finally achieved after years of psychological and physical torment. But rock has a rule that rarely fails: masterpieces are born from pain, while happiness as a family man (often) produces nothing of worth. Back Home comes out in the summer of 2005 and spells disaster from its hideous cover alone. For the occasion, alongside the usual sessionmen, the dazzling John Mayer is recruited on guitar, along with the return of his old friend Steve Winwood. Obviously, that's not enough to make Back Home a record worth remembering in Slowhand's discography, which returns to its old reggae fixation – "Say What You Will" and "Revolution" – while still doped up on tranquilizers with a sound fit for families on the beach, as on the cinematic "Run Home To Me".

Carried by the pop lead single "So Tired", Back Home pays homage to the most generic soul ("I'm Going Left", a cover of Stevie Wonder) and closes with yet another tear-jerking acoustic ballad ("Back Home") that has become something of a trademark in recent years.

In the summer of 2004 the Crossroads Guitar Festival returns, a three-day event held June 4-6 at the Cotton Bowl in Dallas, Texas. Among those taking part in the mega gathering are Joe Bonamassa, Robert Cray, Bo Diddley, Buddy Guy, B.B. King, Carlos Santana and, notably, J.J. Cale. The author of "Cocaine" and "After Midnight" has lived as a recluse since the '80s, cut off from the outside world, and his last album dates back to 1996. Clapton invites him onstage to the delight of the Dallas crowd: together they play "After Midnight" itself and Cale's other classic, "Call Me The Breeze". It's during this 2004 Crossroads Guitar Festival that the groundwork is laid for the pair's first true collaboration, a joint album released in November 2006 titled The Road To Escondido, named after the city in San Diego County where Cale himself lives like a cult-hero hermit of the blues.

Following the festival experience, the cream of the new world blues scene flocks to the sessions for The Road To Escondido, from guitarists John Mayer, Albert Lee and Derek Trucks to the legendary Taj Mahal.

The collaboration between Clapton and J.J. Cale works far better than the one with B.B. King, as if an artistic bond had magically sparked into life after years of courting and cover-song tributes. Cale is a nocturnal figure on the US rock scene, light years from Clapton's commercial success, and for that very reason he restores to Slowhand an authenticity long since lost. That The Road To Escondido is a different kind of album is clear from the sinuous opener "Danger", followed closely by the midnight country ballad "Heads In Georgia". Naturally, the album is made even more precious by the musicians drafted in for the occasion, such as the splendid guitar work of the purest of talents, Derek Trucks, on "Missing Person". Cale finally brings the Tulsa sound back into a Clapton record - the single "When The War Is Over", "It's Easy" and the gorgeous Eastern-tinged "Anyway The Wind Blows" - and, more broadly, kicks away any commercial ambition or temptation toward the tear-jerking ballad, speeding up with the country & western of "Dead End Road" and slowing down only in genuine Tulsa style, as on "Ride The River" and the near-gospel "Who Am I Telling You?". Ultimately, The Road To Escondido is perhaps the best album Clapton has released since Journeyman.

After the birth of his fourth daughter, Sophie, in February 2005, Clapton decided to ask his long-time bandmates Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker to put together a series of concerts celebrating the Cream's remarkable career. From May 2 to 6, at the Royal Albert Hall, a roar greets rock history returning to the stage - despite the aches and the faces worn by time - with the great classics, from "Spoonful" to "Sunshine Of Your Love". Tickets for the four shows sell out within an hour, and among the spectators are spotted Roger Waters, Brian May, Paul McCartney and Jimmy Page, further proof of the band's absolute importance to the British rock scene.

The double album Royal Albert Hall London May 2-3-5-6 2005 enjoys decent commercial success, mainly because it includes two songs, "Badge" and "Pressed Rat And Warthog", that Cream had never played live before. Spurred on by the audience's ovation, the trio return to the stage for three more shows at Madison Square Garden in New York, from October 24 to 26. The encore won't match the London shows, due to a lack of rehearsal and, above all, old tensions resurfacing. It's the final act of Cream: Jack Bruce would die from liver problems in 2014, while Ginger Baker would leave this world five years later, felled by severe health problems after years of substance abuse.

In the summer of 2006, a new world tour begins with Derek Trucks now a permanent fixture, and with the (tragic) loss of Billy Preston, who died in early June from pericarditis. Curiously, the tour stops off in Italy, in Verona, right as the national team led by Marcello Lippi wins the World Cup title against Zidane's France. Clapton's life is by now stable, made up of family love, live music and studio albums.

From February 25 to 28, 2008, at Madison Square Garden in New York, Slowhand reunites on stage with another old friend, Steve Winwood. Here too, the reunion came about thanks to the latest edition (2007) of the Crossroads Guitar Festival, where the two play six songs together, including "Hard To Cry Today" and "Can't Find My Way Home". Winwood and Clapton thus decide to perform together after forty years, and Live From Madison Square Garden is released as a double album in May 2009.

Backed by Willie Weeks on bass, Ian Thomas on drums and Chris Stainton on keyboards, Clapton and Winwood revisit the Blind Faith classics with great elegance, showing a fine live rapport with none of the expected rust brought on by time. Partly because of the supergroup's limited discography, the setlist is enriched with plenty of gems, from the Tulsa sound of "Low Down" to a funky-soul cover of "Them Changes", in tribute to the recently deceased Buddy Miles (ex-Electric Flag). There's no shortage of the pair's solo hits either, "Cocaine" and "After Midnight" for Clapton, "Glad" and "Dear Mr. Fantasy" for Winwood. In the end, the operation is very different from the Cream reunion: the Madison Square Garden live album is the unified story of two careers that proved seminal for British rock.

The live partnership with Winwood works so well that it's revived for a run of fourteen shows across the States in June 2009. A few months later, in October, Clapton's tireless live schedule is halted by surgery to remove gallstones.

At the start of 2010, Slowhand is back in action at London's new O2 Arena alongside another ex-Yardbird, Jeff Beck. The touring continues at a frantic pace until September, when his eighteenth solo album is released, simply titled Clapton. More a pure divertissement than an album conceived with any particular artistic intent or logic, Clapton is a set of songs - mostly covers - played with easy confidence and featuring a staggering number of guests, from guitarists Doyle Bramhall II and Derek Trucks to J. J. Cale, right through to pianist Allen Toussaint. This show of force produces a rather atypical album in Slowhand's discography, like a shaker of different styles, from classic blues to New Orleans jazz. There's no doubting the quality of certain performances: the blues march "That's No Way to Get Along" (with an excellent trio of slide guitars featuring Trucks and J.J. Cale), the off-kilter lament "Travelin' Alone" and the Dixieland ballads with Wynton Marsalis, "How Deep Is The Ocean" and "My Very Good Friend The Milkman".

Clapton is an elegant record that doesn't chase commercial success, even if at times it slips into mannerism and ends up feeling stodgy (the late-night jazz of "Autumn Leaves") and overly retro (the doo-wop of "Judgement Day"). Overall, these are sins easily forgiven after fifty years of honourable service: the one-two punch of "Hard Times Blues" and "Run Back to Your Side" is still honey to the ears of anyone who loves his white blues.

At the dawn of the new decade, Clapton is by now a living legend, a fulfilled man and a tireless touring machine. From April 7 to 9, 2011, he performs at the prestigious Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts alongside celebrated trumpeter Wynton Marsalis. The album Play The Blues: Live From Jazz At Lincoln Center is released in September as a double CD/DVD set, also capturing on film the remarkable performance of this unlikely pairing. Longtime collaborators, Clapton and Marsalis complement each other live with a seamless fusion of blues and New Orleans jazz, as in the haunting funereal version of the mega-hit "Layla".

Despite an intimate atmosphere very similar to that of Mtv Unplugged, Play The Blues is the product of a completely different kind of performance, in which two gentlemen in jacket and tie move with remarkable ease from the Dixieland saraband "Ice Cream" to the traditional blues of "Fourty-four". After the hints offered by the previous self-titled album, Clapton gets it right again, in an even bolder move this time: the live record with Marsalis is pure velvet, caressed by the 1930s club-style melody of "Careless Love". With a decided return to certain rural atmospheres - the Southern banjo of "Joliet Bound", the moving funeral song "Just A Closer Walk With Thee" featuring Taj Mahal's voice, and the near-gospel "Joe Turner's Blues" - this live album is exactly what a seasoned musician like Slowhand should always be doing by now: reinterpreting tradition with the elegance of an evening suit and the magic of a Gibson ES-335.

At the end of June, Slowhand accepts an invitation from Neapolitan bluesman Pino Daniele and performs at the stadium in Cava Dei Tirreni, in the province of Salerno. At the end of the year he returns to Japan on tour with Steve Winwood, then joins the Rolling Stones for their 50th anniversary celebrations, and in March 2013 marks his own 50 years in the business with yet another run of dates across Europe and the United States.

At nearly seventy years of age, Eric announces to the media his intention to stop touring for good from 2015 onward, due to increasingly acute back and joint problems. Fittingly, the new album, Old Sock, carries an almost existentialist title, with a cover showing the face of a happy man, but one marked by time. Like a carefree soul on a Caribbean beach, Clapton isn't bothered by what anyone might think, enjoying himself by playing reggae once again - the opener "Further On Down The Road", perhaps the best track on the album, and "Your One And Only Man" - as if bitten by a Caribbean spirit.

The presence of the usual special guests, from J.J. Cale on the ballad "Angel" to Sir Paul McCartney on the vaudeville-style "All Of Me", isn't enough this time: Old Sock is a lacklustre album, good only for a quick, half-attentive listen. The mix of styles - reggae, soul, country and pop - makes no real sense, other than putting together twelve tracks for the simple pleasure of being Eric Clapton and, like an "old sock", being able to get away with whatever comes to mind.

On July 26, 2013, at the age of 74, J.J. Cale was pronounced dead in San Diego County, felled by a heart attack. His final studio album, "Roll On", had come out four years earlier with a contribution from Clapton himself, who was now devastated by the news. To honour Cale's art once more, Slowhand gathered together the likes of Tom Petty, Mark Knopfler, John Mayer, and Willie Nelson.

The Breeze: An Appreciation Of J.J. Cale was released in July 2014 under the name Eric Clapton & Friends. The album is a heartfelt, genuine tribute to the godfather of the Tulsa sound, opening with a moving Cajun-flavoured version of "Call Me The Breeze", the only universally famous Cale song included in the tracklist. What follows are highly personal interpretations of tracks written by J.J. over the course of his reclusive career, from Knopfler's western-style guitar on "Rock And Roll Records" and "Someday" to the gorgeous nocturnal "Magnolia", sung by John Mayer.

The Breeze is a successful tribute project from Clapton, who enlists giants like Willie Nelson and Tom Petty to restore the shine to country ballads such as "Songbird" and the magical "The Old Man and Me". The chemistry with Knopfler's guitar on "Train To Nowhere" is also spot on, as is that with whiz-kid Derek Trucks's guitar on the closing "Crying Eyes". Clapton has owed a debt to Cale since the days of "After Midnight", and if The Road To Escondido was a beautiful collaborative work, The Breeze is the definitive (and fitting) tribute that J.J. would have truly appreciated.

The end – "Little Man, You've Had A Busy Day"

On the evening of 21 June 2014, Eric Clapton suddenly walks off the stage at Glasgow's Hydro. He returns after several minutes to play one last song and end his concert about 40 minutes earlier than scheduled. The audience is not pleased, especially given the total lack of explanation from Slowhand's crew. The following day, a statement reveals that Clapton himself had been unable to continue the show due to "technical and sound difficulties on stage". A week later, the blues god confirms his intention to hang up his guitar, afflicted by a serious neuropathy causing him enormous pain throughout his peripheral nervous system.

Despite the suffering, Clapton returns to the stage for two shows at Madison Square Garden in New York in May 2015, followed by an unbroken week as resident guitarist at London's Royal Albert Hall to celebrate his 70th birthday. These shows yield the live album Slowhand At 70 – Live At The Royal Albert Hall, featuring his trusted band Nathan East (bass), Chris Stainton (keyboards) and Andy Fairweather-Low (guitar). The double album shows Clapton in good form, even though he's forced to sit through much of the acoustic sets. The "new" additions to the Royal Albert Hall live set are a cover of J.J. Cale's "Somebody's Knockin' On My Door" and Joe Cocker's "High Time We Went", along with Paul Carrack's warm vocals on "You Are So Beautiful", a tribute to another late friend, Billy Preston.

In May 2016, Clapton releases what (for now) stands as the last album of his career. I Still Do is another existentialist title, because beyond the pain and the illness, his Fender "can still get the job done" without much trouble. The album is surprisingly good, especially given recent releases like Back Home and Old Sock.

Slowhand revisits the classic themes of his solo discography, from the standard "Alabama Woman Blues" (Leroy Carr) to yet another tribute to the art of J.J. Cale on the near-funky "Can't Let You Do It" and the Tulsa spirit of "Somebody's Knockin'". The softer, soft-rock atmospheres also make a return, starting with the much-discussed "I Will Be There", as if anyone truly cared that the new Angelo Mysterioso is Ed Sheeran.

Eric poses on the cover as if to make a statement: here I am, this is me, I am the god of the blues and my career is now over. And Clapton manages to do so with dignity, reinterpreting Dylan ("I Dreamed I Saw St. Augustine") and, above all, paying what may be his final respects to that Robert who once struck a deal with the devil. Suddenly becoming a guitar god, only to then plunge into the hell of the blues. Or the paradise of the devil's music.

To my father, who first revealed the divine blues to me.

Ride the wave of great music

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