I’d point out, however, that I didn’t resort to impugning Clapton as a person, tempting as that might be. And it’s that kind of diversity that makes the human race so interesting. And I’d prefer not to listen to any of that stuff.
I’ll agree that on some objective level, at least if you want to measure greatness by units moved or whatever, Clapton qualifies as possessing some degree of “greatness.” But so does Celine Dion, by that measure. And I’m entitled to that opinion, just as you’re entitled to disagree with it. Hell, I like the music the Shaggs make better than the music Clapton makes. I like the music I’ve made better than the music Clapton makes. If you’re really so offended that my fellow guitarist and I don’t dig Clapton’s solo work that you feel compelled to comment, please accept my best regards, and my sincere wishes that you begin having a more interesting day.įor the record, I’ve done a lot, musically and non-musically. I mean, is there really anything more to be said? Thanks to those who offered substantive comments, and even those who only suggested I do nasty things to myself.
#Play wonderful tonight update#
UPDATE 6/10/11: As amusing (and sad) as the comments about this confessedly somewhat tongue-in-cheek post have been over the last 2.5 years, I’m disabling comments now. I’m going to go listen to some Black Flag now. When you listen to stuff like that, the terrorists win. I’m being charitable.Īnd that’s not even mentioning the monstrosity that is called, in dark shadows and hidden places, by creatures who should know better than to speak its unhallowed name, “Wonderful Tonight.” Insipid songs, insipid singing, mawkish sentimentality. But look at what he chooses to do with it - I mean, just LOOK at that list above. The main reason I’m sorry is that he reminded me that I did, in fact, know the song “Promises,” and then he proceeded to hum some of it for me, and yes, I do in fact remember it, and the remembering HURTS.īut back the main point: WHY does Clapton suck? Clearly, as revealed by some of his playing in Cream and those aforementioned Yardbirds tunes, the man can play guitar. Honestly, I never thought he’d actually listen to it. This campaign of terror grew in magnitude until last week, when it culminated in my placing a $2 copy of “Timepieces: The Best of Eric Claption” on his desk. by humming “Lay Down Sally” every time I walked past his office. Say what you want about those early Yardbirds sides - they were truly great - but the sore fact remains plainly evident, etched in vinyl and bits for all to hear:Īnd these are his HITS, fer gawd’s sake! Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve been torturing my buddy J.-P.