What happened to Eric Clapton? (2023)

What caught Cray's attention was the second stanza.

Do you want to be a free man?

Or do you want to be a slave?

Do you want to be a free man?

Or do you want to be a slave?

Would you like to wear these chains?

until you're in the grave

Cray — one of the great blues guitarists of his generation, five-time Grammy winner, and black man from segregated Georgia — immediately emailed Clapton. The 76-year-old guitarist did sing the words of Morrison, who likened the blockade to slavery?

"His reaction to me was that he was referring to slaves, you know, from England a long time ago," says Cray.

That didn't satisfy Cray. Not the next email exchange. Then Cray didn't respond at all. He next wrote weeks later to politely tell Clapton that he couldn't, in good conscience, open for him on an upcoming tour as planned.

After that, Cray watched as Clapton released two more blocking songs, which were governed bya long interviewwith vaccine skeptics and vowed to only perform where fans do not need to be vaccinated or, as Clapton put it in a statement, not "where a discriminatory audience is present".

After a September show in Austin,Clapton posed backstage with Texas Gov. Greg Abbott. Abbott recently signed the country's most restrictive abortion law and a Republican-backed measure to limit voting rights in the state. That ended a 35-year friendship.

"There's a great photo [from 2013] in Madison Square Garden after the show, with B.B. King is in a chair, Jimmie Vaughan, me and Eric are behind him,” Cray says. "And I was looking at the photo of Governor Abbott, Jimmie Vaughan and Eric Clapton in this similar pose and I was like, what's wrong with this photo? Why are you doing this?"

Many of Clapton's friends and fans are asking the same question. Before the pandemic, the guitarist and singer was one of rock's oldest untouchables, a cross-generational hitmaker with the same name and reputation as Billy Joel, James Taylor and Elton John. Their 1992 album Unplugged remains their best-selling live release of all time, selling over 25 million copies. He is the only artist to have been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame three times.

In an increasingly polarized world, Clapton stayed out of politics. He was never one to show up at rallies or marches. So hearing him polled by scientists on anti-vaccine websites was more than a joke.

"I've talked to other musicians, old friends of mine, these great musicians who, you know, remain anonymous in our conversation, who are like, 'What the hell is he doing?'" says producer Russ Titelman, whose credits include Unplugged and a new Clapton album due out this month, Lady in the Balcony: Lockdown Sessions.

"He's the anti-Bono," says Bill Oakes, who ran Clapton's record label in the 1970s.

Interviews with more than 20 musicians and acquaintances who have known Clapton over the years, from his Yardbirds days to his last September shows, shed light on why he may have been involved in the Covid debate. There is hope among friends and associates that Clapton can undo the damage he has done to his reputation. But her frustration is obvious.

"No one I've spoken to knows Eric has an answer," says drummer Jim Keltner, who has known Clapton for 51 years. "We're all in the same boat. We all thought, 'I can't understand this.' ”

Earlier this year, when he heard Clapton complain that his friends were abandoning him, Keltner wrote to him that many of them were just confused.

"He brought it on himself," says Keltner. "And so I really hope and pray that he finds a way, I'm not saying get out, but kind of make it go away so it doesn't interfere with the music. ”

It's unclear how much Clapton cares about the criticism. He turned down several interview requests for this article, and his executive director, Michael Eaton, explained that decision in an email to The Washington Post. Eaton wrote: "Given the depressing standard of journalism reflected in some recent articles, Eric Clapton has no desire to deal with the US press at this time. Any public figure should expect and accept negative comments, but there should be a balance.”

For most of Clapton's career, this was true.

He appeared as lead guitarist for the blues-inspired Yardbirds in 1963, playing Telecaster. According to legend, spray-painted messages were soon appearing all over London with one simple message: "Clapton is God". When Clapton felt the Yardbirds were moving in an overly commercial direction, he quit.

He joined John Mayall's Bluesbreakers, promising bluesy purity, then went to Cream, grew an afro and pocketed a wah-wah pedal. He formed and left British supergroup Blind Faith and then turned to southern soul and toured as a member of Delaney & Bonnie. Obsessed with the band's organic sound, Clapton next formed Derek and the Dominos. They lasted a critically acclaimed album.

"A chameleon in every way, not just in his looks and his reshaping and reshaping of his person and his music somewhere else," says keyboardist and vocalist Bobby Whitlock, who wrote or co-wrote seven songs on the lone Derek and the Dominos album. 1970

This was the era of politically conscious popular music, from Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young's "Ohio" to Marvin Gaye's "What's Going On". But Clapton's worldview didn't extend beyond his fretboard.

He really only had one reason back then: to court Pattie Boyd, a model who happened to be married to his best friend, former Beatle George Harrison. The centerpiece of the Derek and the Dominos record, "Layla" would be a melancholy plea for their love and remains a staple of Clapton's concert repertoire.

"There's an obsessive part that also made him really sit down and learn guitar the way he did," says Chris O'Dell, who was Harrison's assistant at the time and later Clapton's assistant. "He might be after Pattie in the same way. Maybe obsessed is the wrong word, but you're single-minded. You only have one thing on your mind, and that's all you can really focus on.

Eric Clapton, like so many, had a plan for 2020. He intended to make his biannual residency at London's Royal Albert Hall and record performances. Then the lockdown came and the shows were cancelled.

"Which is devastating from a selfish perspective because I'm at an age where I don't know how long my skills will last," Clapton said in the June interview.

Around this time, Clapton signed up for a Zoom chat with Jamie Oldaker, the Tulsa drummer who played on eight of his albums, beginning with 1974's "461 Ocean Boulevard." Oldaker had cancer; he would die in July. Richard Feldman, a mutual friend who co-wrote Clapton's 1978 hit "Promises," was also on the phone.

"At one point I said, 'Eric, how are you?'" says Feldman. "And he looked like a 17-year-old, if you will. He says, "I just don't have anyone to play with." It was kind of real and heartfelt.

This has emerged as the leading theory as to why Clapton reacted so strongly to Covid disruptions. At 76 and with a long list of health issues - from nerve problems in his hands and legs to hearing loss - he can feel the clock ticking and is dying to play as much as possible.

"That's what he lives for," says Keltner. “You can't take [the] shows away from him. It's like breathing for him.”

Clapton was vaccinated in February. But he was skeptical of government policies and always afraid of needles. A heroin addict in the early 1970s, he simply snorted the drug.

"I felt so alone," Clapton said in the June interview. "I really couldn't talk to my family or my kids. My teenage children seemed to have been brainwashed.”

The first photo put him off for a week and delayed the "Lady" project. The second shot was worse.

"My hands and feet were frozen, numb or burned and were practically useless for two weeks," he said. "I was afraid I would never play again."

Upon hearing this, singer Bonnie Bramlett, who first worked with Clapton when she was one half of Delaney & Bonnie, said her response to vaccination orders made perfect sense.

"He can't feel his goddamn hands anymore and he doesn't want that to happen to anyone else," she says. "And why is everyone afraid of it? I think he's a hero for that."

But medical experts say Clapton is more than a man who shares his opinions. He is a major public figure with considerable influence.

"It could help us end this pandemic, especially with a vulnerable population," says Joshua Barocas, associate professor of medicine specializing in infectious diseases at the University of Colorado School of Medicine. “We look at millions and millions of people around the world. He could have been a global ambassador and instead chose the pro-Covid, anti-public health path.”

Clapton's hands eventually recovered enough to play again. That's when he got in touch with Nathan East.

"He said, 'If I put something together, we would, you know, create a little bubble and we could just play around and feel safe. Would you be willing to do this? East remembers.

So they ended up at Cowdray House, a stately mansion set in the heart of a polo club in West Sussex, England, and recorded what became Lady in the Balcony. It was the height of the pandemic and East had to contact police upon arrival to let them know he was in quarantine.

Titelman flew in to produce his first Clapton album since 1994's From the Cradle. The band was flawless, featuring East, keyboardist Chris Stainton and drummer Steve Gadd.

Clapton didn't appear shrunken. The largely acoustic performance showcased his still-intact guitars and understated voice, which still allows him to sing his favorite songs — "Layla," "After Midnight," and "Tears in Heaven" — in the same key they were written in became. . For East, the highlight of the performance was an intense, nearly eight-minute rendition of "River of Tears" from 1998's Pilgrim.

"He sings his heart out and I'll never forget the chills I got," says East.

They didn't talk politics at Cowdray House, and "Lady" wouldn't include any inter-song conversations about vaccines or lockdowns. But behind the scenes, Titelman found himself in an awkward position. Clapton wanted to record "Stand and Deliver" alongside his classics. Musically, Titelman didn't think much of the song. The matter worried him more. He figured it would distract from "Lady" and even prepared a speech to give to Clapton if he insisted on recording it.

"It's about music, performance and live music while we're in the middle of this terrible pandemic," Titelman planned to say. "So that's all you want to tell people. And when that thing is in there, it's gonna explode.

In the end, the label solved the problem. Titelman was told he didn't want the song.

In the months after recording "Lady," Clapton continued to make headlines with his covetous ramblings. He released another song with Morrison entitled "The Rebels" and later "This Has Gotta Stop". Clapton wrote the latter himself and had an animated video showing a zombie-like populace being manipulated by politicians and marching into mindless factory jobs. "I can't get this B.S. for longer,” he sang in the chorus. The message wasn't subtle.

The anti-lockdown campaign has undoubtedly damaged Clapton's reputation. In October, Rolling Stone magazine, which had featured him on its cover eight times in the past in largely flattering terms, reportedcreated a searing attackThis not only called him out for his pandemic behavior, but also highlighted a 45-year-old incident that remains an inevitable bruise in his career.

Racist remarks during a concert in Birmingham, England in 1976 were not new. Clapton addressed this in the 2017 documentary Eric Clapton: Life in 12 Bars, and it has been regularly used as ammunition against him online. As #BlackLivesMatter was ramping up last year, acclaimed songwriter Phoebe Bridgers slammed Clapton for making "extremely mediocre music" and being "a famous racist" in an interview. In 2019, Living Color guitarist Vernon Reid tweeted about his love for Clapton, who plays in Cream, with the caveat that it's "important not to sidestep Racist With The Blues' odd phenomena."

Clapton's comments came during an immigration wave in the 1970s and a far-right campaign to stem the flow of South Africans to Britain. On stage, Clapton told the audience that it was important to "keep England white" and that "black people, grumpy people, Arabs and Jamaicans don't belong here". At "12 Bars," Clapton apologized and said he was embarrassed about what he said. He blamed it on a drinking problem so severe that he often considered suicide.

Clapton's supporters say it's worth noting that he's never said anything like those comments before or since. Albhy Galuten, who played with Clapton in the 1970s before becoming the production brains behind the Bee Gees, wonders if part of the mess he's in is due to the naïve and careless way he plays his career is always concerned.

As the controversy rages, Clapton remains at the center and separate from it all. Past contributors like East, Whitlock, Bramlett, Keltner and Titelman say they don't really know their politics. It's not something they discuss when they're together, and it's not something they'll foist on you over email or over the phone. What they want to talk about is the magic of making music with him.

"He's one of my favorite musicians in the world," says Keltner, who has played with George Harrison, Fiona Apple, Bob Dylan, John Lennon and Linda Ronstadt over the course of his long career. "You can only imagine a drummer playing with Eric Clapton."

Others who didn't get along with him also find his behavior disturbing. Yardbirds drummer Jim McCarty said that even in the early days, Clapton remained a mystery.

"Have you ever met people like that? Does it really never fit anywhere and you can't understand what they're thinking or what they're doing? he says.

And singer Rita Coolidge also questions his motivation. In 1970, with her then-boyfriend Derek and Dominos drummer Jim Gordon, she helped write the piano tune that became the coda of "Layla." But when the song was released, Gordon single-handedly took credit for the section. Clapton's manager at the time, Robert Stigwood, ignored Coolidge. And she found Clapton unapproachable.

"I've probably never spoken to Eric about anything," says Coolidge. "He always made me feel ... like I was under him."

Others commend Clapton for unexpected and often unmentioned acts of kindness, which largely benefit his musical collaborators. Upon learning that Whitlock had sold his publishing rights to Derek and the Dominos material, Clapton bought them back and gave them to his former bandmate. Hearing then-bandmate Albert Lee grumble about selling one of his guitars, he brought a prized Les Paul—one he'd used in Cream—to the next rehearsal and gave it to him.

And then there's his dedication to the Crossroads Center, the Antigua drug and rehabilitation center that Clapton helped build in 1998 after he quit drinking. Eaton estimates that Clapton has given at least $20 million to the center over the past decade through donations, fundraising concerts, and guitar auctions.

Soul music legend Sam Moore recounts an experience he had with Clapton in 2005. Billy Preston, the keyboardist who played with the Beatles and Clapton, was dying and in a coma in an Arizona hospital. One morning, Moore looked up to see Clapton arriving as an unannounced visitor. He asked Moore for a hairbrush.

"He went to Billy, got the brush and brushed his hair. He took that thing and made the mustache," says Moore. "When he had to leave, he leaned down and kissed Billy on the forehead."

Joyce Moore, wife of Sam Moore and manager of the late Preston, is furious when asked about the racism allegations.

"Let me tell you, Eric Clapton got on a plane to kiss Billy Preston on the forehead when Billy Preston was in a coma," she says. "Really racist. Hm. There is a heart, and that heart saw no color.”

One of Clapton's relationships seems hopeless. This is Crays.

Cray's tone changes when he talks about when they became friends. In 1986 the mean fiddler Clapton appeared at a London show and climbed onto the stage to join the younger guitarist. They would record together and Cray and his band would open up for several tours. Clapton organized Cray's bachelor party at the Royal Albert Hall in 1990. That same year, the two met tragedy while playing with Stevie Ray Vaughan just hours before the Texan bluesman was killed in a helicopter crash.

But Cray says Clapton has changed over the years. He rarely mixes. Once known for his pranks, he has lost his sense of humor. A few years ago, Cray couldn't believe it when he heard Clapton talk about his support of fox hunting.

While Clapton toured the South this fall, Cray played his own shows at smaller venues. He deleted his email exchanges with Clapton because it hurt to look at him.

"I said to myself, I don't need a conversation," says Cray. "I'd rather not associate with someone who is extreme and so selfish. We started playing a song that wasn't very popular at the time we started. We've gained some notoriety and I'm OK with that, but I certainly don't need to date Eric Clapton for this to continue."

Alice Crites contributed to this report.

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