“It scared me”: The two guitarists who shook Eric Clapton to his core
‘Clapton is God’ graced T-shirts, badges, magazine covers and more during Eric Clapton’s heyday. At the time, it was tough to imagine anyone above him as he not only hit the god-tier level of reverence but seemed to utterly co-opt it. At a time when it seemed that there was a guitar genius on every corner, Clapton was always ranked high, often ranked as the best. So it’s difficult to imagine him ever being rocked by the competition.
He was, though, and every artist is. Performing means living in a strange space between ego and insecurity, unless you’re completely unhinged. There’s nothing more exposing than making art. Every night, artists step on stage and offer up a piece of themselves. Even when a song isn’t emotional or autobiographical, the choices behind it still reflect something personal. Every detail is a glimpse into how their mind works.
That, in any good artist, is matched in equal measure by a drive to be better, to be the best. If they’re honest, every musician is clambouring for the top and so while the music world can be beautiful and collaborative, it’s just as cut throat and competitive as any other industry – this one just requires people to go out on stage and act as if none of this bothers them, as if they truly believe they are the best around.
Clapton could do that. He did it so well that his peers quaked and looked up to him as a shining example of greatness. He did it so well that I wrote that whole introduction as if he could never have been insecure in his life, but he was.
Imagine this: you’ve just taken a bold step by leaving the first band that gave you real success and acclaim, only to be replaced by Jeff Beck. When Clapton quit The Yardbirds in 1965, believing the band no longer aligned with his musical tastes, it should have felt like an empowering move. But no one likes being replaced, especially not by someone as formidable as Beck. What followed was a strange, jealous rivalry that played out over years of trying to outdo each other through chart success, collaborations, and even competing for standing ovations.
But really, like most jealousy, it came down to admiration. “Watching Jeff, listening to Jeff play, and working with Jeff. It’s always intriguing,” Clapton said as the basis of it all was really just being in awe at his talent.
Despite his position in the god-tier being more than set by 1967 when his new band, Cream, released their iconic sophomore record, Disraeli Gears, a new player emerged in the field that once again had him feeling insecure.
A month earlier, in October 1966, Clapton had gone alone to a gig for some new American in London. This stranger had requested that the Cream boys get up and jam with him, which would have been a bold request if that stranger wasn’t Jimi Hendrix.
Hendrix’s first London show was a historic night that seemed to shake the earth, and Clapton was there, feeling the shockwaves, frightened. “I remember thinking that here was a force to be reckoned with,” he said, “It scared me, because he was clearly going to be a huge star, and just as we are finding our own speed, here was the real thing.”
But a good dose of insecurity is good for the soul, it keeps people pushing on and keeps musicians improving – so maybe Clapton has this fear of other idols to thank.
