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    Eric Clapton
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Eric Clapton
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Me And Mr. Johnson

03/31/2004 5:00 PM, Yahoo! Music
Ken Micallef


Following Eric Clapton’s lifelong pursuit of the blues, Me And Mr. Johnson is the limey’s renditions of 14 of the 29 songs written and recorded by fabled 1930’s blues legend, Robert Johnson. Johnson is the blues’ William Shakespeare, his music having influenced everyone from Muddy Waters and Howlin’ Wolf to Clapton’s own Cream and rock bands as diverse as AC/DC and Aerosmith. Would Clapton have earned the title “God” if not for Johnson’s contribution to the Cream canon with “Crossroads”? After two previous blues tribute albums, Mr. Crapdock goes whole hog into Johnson here.

Befitting Clapton’s advanced career status this is not the wailing blues orator of “Crossroads” or the sugar and heroin inhaling mystic of “Layla,” but rather a comfortable old geezer sitting on a clapboard house front porch; moonshine, barefoot young ‘uns and toothless grandma in tow. These blues are pleasant, fun, and professionally performed: harmonica wails, Billy Preston jams convincingly, Clapton plays little solo guitar but when he does it is as guttural as his groaning vocals. But no matter the song, from the stumbling “Me And The Devil Blues” to the murmuring “Come On In My Kitchen,” Me And Mr. Johnson sounds rehearsed and controlled. It’s not the rhythm section’s fault; you can’t expect guys straight off tours with James Taylor and Phil Collins to lay down an authentic manhandling blues groove. There are exceptions, which seem fostered by the spine-tingling wrangle of backing guitarists Andy Fairweather Low and Doyle Bramhall II (Bramhall is the album’s true bluesman). “Traveling Riverside Blues” is truly mean and lowdown, “If I Had Possession . . . “ stomps like a black tumor, “32-20 Blues” is a righteous party ride.

Me And Mr. Johnson is ultimately a vanity project from a man whose life has its share of blues-worthy memories. Discount for a moment the fame and the millions and reconsider a dead son and a lost best friend, and Eric Clapton’s blues are as emotive as a guilty conscience can render.