“Nobody else”: the artist Eric Clapton thought invented R&B
When considering pop and rock’s greatest guitarists, many would rightly point to Eric Clapton. His talent was evident early on, busking with future Hawkwind member Dave Brock and playing with the R&B group The Roosters while still a teenager. Clapton hadn’t even reached his 20s when he joined The Yardbirds as lead guitarist, a band whose lineup famously included Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page. However, it was with Cream that Clapton truly solidified his reputation as an unparalleled guitarist. Teaming up with drummer Ginger Baker and bassist Jack Bruce, he delivered a string of hard-rock psychedelia classics, including ‘Sunshine of Your Love’ and ‘White Room’, that have become enduring benchmarks of his legendary career.
Clapton’s contributions as an ensemble band member and session musician are indisputable, Blind Faith and Derek and the Dominoes producing essential records of the era, and marking himself as one of the few outside guests heard on a Beatles record, providing ‘While My Guitar Gently Weeps’ its ripper of a solo at George Harrison’s request. As a solo artist from the mid-1970s, his output seemed to drop in quality, showing himself to be a turgid and sterile songwriter in isolation from his former comrades. He’s also a flagrant racist, anti-vaxxer, and confessed marital abuser.
Nonetheless, his guitar knowledge and expertise are grade-A triple gold, with an exceptional knowledge of rock’s heritage and American roots. When mulling over the one artist that he thought could trace R&B’s foundation, Clapton revealed to Guitar Player in 2004: “Before I heard Robert Johnson, I had already been exposed to a lot of rhythm and blues artists like Chuck Berry and Jimmy Reed. As soon as I heard Johnson play boogie on things like ‘When You Got A Good Friend’ and ‘Ramblin’ On My Mind’, I immediately understood where a lot of R&B grooves originated. Nobody else from that period – not Son House, not Charlie Patton, not Blind Lemon Jefferson – played anything like that.”
Long the source of historical intrigue and folk mythos, the Mississippi Delta blues guitarist only recorded a handful of sessions and saw scant success in his short life. However, his late-1930s songs, such as ‘Walkin’ Blues’ and ‘Ramblin on My Mind,’ left an indelible repercussion on future blues-indebted artists, with Keith Richards labelling Johnson the “supremo”.
Mystery surrounds Johnson. Even his birth and death are ambiguous, the exact date unverified and several gravestones purporting to be his resting place. This enigma lends itself perfectly to the popular legend of Johnson’s Faustian pact with the devil to afford him his guitar skills in exchange for his soul.
In Samuel Charters’ 1973 efforts at historicity, former Johnson traveller and street-corner performer Shines offered some insight: “He was kind of a peculiar fellow. Robert’d be standing up, playing some place, playing like nobody’s business. At about that time it was a hustle with him as well as a pleasure. And money’d be coming from all directions. But Robert’d just pick up and walk off and leave you standing there playing. And you wouldn’t see Robert no more, maybe in two or three weeks.”
Forever frozen in his youthful brilliance and achieving the unfortunate first entry into the notorious ‘27 Club‘, Johnson’s become an enduring figure of authentic Delta blues that’s destined to be poured over for years to come. Devoting the entirety of Me and Mr. Johnson to his pioneering work, Clapton further expressed his admiration, “Robert was something else – he sounded like he was naked. I don’t know if this is true or not, but it was reported by Don Law, the man who recorded him, that prior to one of his sessions, there were some Mexican musicians in the room with him.”
He concluded: “It seems he couldn’t play in front of them – he had to turn and play to the corner of the room. And I thought, That makes sense. How could he play in front of other people when he’s exposing his emotions so entirely?”.
