“Disappear up its own arsehole”: The one band Eric Clapton thought was given “the kiss of death”
By the 1960s’ close, Eric Clapton was already one of popular music’s most celebrated guitarists. Playing professionally since a teen, an undying love of blues and a restless creative drive would guide Clapton through a career that would push him to the psychedelic vanguard while always anchored away from the era’s lysergic excesses.
A member of The Yardbirds’ illustrious alumni, along with Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page before jumping ship to join John Mayall & the Bluesbreakers, Islington’s Arvon Road had already been graffitied with the mythic “Clapton is God” before his famous trio had arrived.
Formed by Clapton and The Graham Bond Organisation’s Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker, Cream would stand in the eyes of many as their respective defining outfit. Spiking their blues foundations with heavy blasts of psych-pop and extended jams, Cream grew to one of the era’s leading forces of the counterculture—helped in no small part by Clapton’s extravagant Gibson SG designed by Dutch art collective The Fool.
Yet, despite the acclaim and commercial success, all members were tired of Cream’s lack of direction, and showering adulation resulted in another project that swiftly became stuck in its own hype.
Recruiting Traffic’s Steve Winwood and Family’s Ric Grech, Clapton and Baker began jamming under the name Blind Faith. Rehearsals swiftly became recording time, the new quartet cutting 1969’s eponymous LP in London’s Olympic and Morgan studios. With great buzz surrounding the venture, Clapton had already begun to doubt Blind Faith’s future. Debuting a free concert in Hyde Park to 100,000 fans and touring Scandinavia and the States during a break in the album sessions, Clapton harboured misgivings regarding their material and the live translations.
“In its infancy, it was extremely good,” Clapton told Classic Rock in 2016. “…when we were rehearsing and recording, but once we hit the road, we all got just, like, rabbit-in-the-headlights syndrome. We just panicked. I panicked. We got the same thing [as Cream]: it was ‘Supergroup II’—and I think that’s the kiss of death. If you really want to kill a band, call it a supergroup and watch it disappear up its own arsehole”.
The phrase ‘supergroup’ certainly sets high expectations. With an unearned stature dolloped on the group before they’d even found their feet, an internal discomfort and precarity had set in, which became accelerated by the intense publicity, coupled with a thin live repertoire. Sheepishly taking a quiet exit and joining John Lennon’s Plastic Ono Band before captaining his Derek and the Dominos with Delaney & Bonnie and Friends members, Clapton would lead a troubled but celebrated 1970s stardom.
Baker held more affection for Blind Faith, forming Ginger Baker’s Air Force with Grech and Windwood that only lasted a few shows, and Clapton joined Traffic on stage in 1970, sparking rumours of a regrouping. While it’s true that Blind Faith were afforded an unwarranted glowing reputation, and their sole LP an occasional flash of brilliance amid aimless jams, their brief tenure marks a moment in rock when creativity and drive were in abundance across the tight-knit music community, albeit with a dose of naivety.
