Eric Clapton

June 23, 2009 at 11:08 am 1 comment

Clapton = LoserPeople in the sixties loved Eric Clapton. They wrote “Clapton is God” in pen on stairwells in London, and they talked about him in loud voices. “Clapton!”  You want to yell it out! “Eric Clapton!!!” The c’s at the end of “Eric” and the beginning of “Clapton” blend together into a single consonant, which is great. Not only do you get to be excited, but you save yourself the energy of one c, which adds up when you talk about Eric Clapton as much as hippies do.

People from the sixties will say things like “they just don’t make em like Clapton anymore”, and “did you hear that Clapton sat in and tore the roof off?” He’s their guitar wizard head kahuna, the great white english hippie hope, one of the essential guarantees that the sixties generation will have a premiere spot in awesomeness heaven. In fact, to see Clapton live was said to be so powerful that it could drive thousands of stoned 18 year olds who had until then only heard about five other guitarists to instantly recognize him as the greatest blues guitar player of all time.

Well there’s two problems here.

1. Clapton was (and is) a shitty blues guitarist, and
2. Jack Bruce was the best part of Cream times like 1000, which people from the sixties couldn’t tell cause they only had ears for really loud constant guitar noodling and really loud constant drum solos, (ie. 2/3rds of Cream.)


You are no longer allowed to talk about Eric Clapton. EVER AGAIN.

Here is an actual quote by Clapton in his 2007 autobiography –

“I had never really understood or been directly affected by racial conflict… when I listened to music, I was disinterested in where the players came from or what colour their skin was.”

Umm…a white blues guitarist CANNOT somehow “not be affected by racial conflict” Like, dude – THATS NOT REALLY UP TO YOU, OK? Thats like seeing a guy breaking into your car and saying “hey what the hell are you doing?” and the guy says, “oh its fine, I’m not really affected by conflicts of private ownership.”

Listen, Clapton attempted to play a music that was forged in the fires of hundreds of years of the most brutal, miserable, and diabolical oppression imaginable. To add to this, he was a member of the oppressing race. This is not insignificant and cannot be waved away like a persistant beggar. If you are going to make a tremendous fortune off of playing half assed blues riffs, you better tell it like it is. And telling it like it is means constantly admitting to anyone who will listen (though this unfortunately would not include anyone from the sixties) that there are at least 5000 sixty-five year old black dudes in Georgia right now, sitting on lawn chairs in front of gas stations, who could kick the living shit out of you on the blues guitar. These guys have never owned a guitar, they’ve never had the time to “practice”, and they’ve never even imagined making a dime off of guitar playing. But if they’re visiting relatives or something and see an old fender by the bookshelf in the living room, they’ll say “hey look a guitar” and pick it up and not even play it. They’ll just be quiet and listen to its stillness. They’ll close their eyes as their fingers find the fretboard and their right thumb and forefinger will come together as a primal flesh-pick. Then with a savage howl they will let rip one note so powerful that 40 miles away a flock of birds will suddenly alight from a lone oak tree, and hailstones the size of grapefruits will fall in a 30 foot circle two farms over.

If Eric Clapton were within the county line of this note he would pee in his pants and start moaning in incomprehensible english about fish and chips and giant clock towers. Going “deedle-deedle-deedle-dee-dee-deedle” on the guitar is not in the same omniverse as “(silence)……WA-A-A-A-A-A-AaAaAaaaaaAAAAAAaaaaaaa@&#*&$hhhhHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!” This is why all the white blues guitar players in the sixties came from England. There was no one around to show them how much they sucked to stop them from trying. Kinda like how the Japanese are super into baseball but Mexicans aren’t even gonna go there. Well, of course then one day Jimi showed up in London which was like white English blues guitar player armageddon, but thats another story.

And that other thing – Jack Bruce. How can anyone even care about Clapton when Jack is around? “Tiny Purple laughing through your fingers”? This guy is like the last frikkin starfighter. He’s like the end of the movie, when the ship spins around at warp speed and fires lasers everywhere and destroys all the enemies. He’s that cool. Which in part explains why hippies could never tell he was there. He was basically from the future, and they couldn’t handle it. That and of course the fact that Clapton was always soloing so they could never actually hear him.


Entry filed under: Music.

Contemplation Energy

1 Comment Add your own

  • 1. Zahara  |  September 10, 2009 at 10:06 pm

    This doesn’t mention his later racist faux pas, which led to the Rock Against Racism movement.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Trackback this post  |  Subscribe to the comments via RSS Feed

****** ****** Where its still all about them… but different


Top Posts

contact –

send us an email to get super special sixties prizes and announcements and shit!

%d bloggers like this: