No matter if I know that this review will be posted among other, very different reviews, even if I know that most of the readers prefer very different things and that it is most likely that they will move along, I really can’t help but diving into this new album of one of the most important musicians of the later half of the 20th century, one of those musicians that will remain in the pop history as pioneers.

In any case, I believe that the majority of rock listeners, at some point they have either touched the Blues and have moved along, either they have decided to stay a while and listen and discover the roots of the music they love. Of those that decided to stay, some remained faithful and devoted to the music. Some others discovered some new guitar heroes that belong to the blues and they did it the same way they discovered similar heroes in other, harder genres of pop music.

Unquestionably, one of those heroes is Eric Clapton, the only, probably, white guitarist that came so close to the afro-american bluesman. And he did that by bringing the music of the great black bluesmen to the white masses, almost intact, primordial and with a respect greater than what would be demanded by his name and stature. Through his career, he got accustomed to listening to his music and to his arrangements of other peoples music, through his hard driven guitar (by the blues standards) and his electric perspective and we got used in letting his blues mingle with our rock listens and our harder selections.

This new album, simply and clearly named after him, comes to remind us that Clapton is not the average rock guitarist that happened to deal with the blues. Eric Clapton did not mess with the blues when the blues became the fashion, or when he had nothing better to do. He got buried deep in the blues, breathed them out and never let them go. Not even at times when the vast audiences that filled the arenas (and still do) for him where longing for harder things, harder situations and a more mainstream spirit.

Therefore, for this album, with its obvious semeiology at the title, he chose not to follow the safe route. He did not choose well known blues cuts to arrange, he did not look to dazzle the world with his guitar work by soloing non-stop as other guitarists often do. In contrast, he moves the main guitar player (himself) at the side of the stage, at the background if you may and leaves his music room to breathe. He gives way to the other instruments like the bluesmen of old, like he did back in the 60s when he accompanied the likes of Louisiana Red and Sonny Boy Williamson. He leaves the solos for the piano or the harmonica and brass and he plays masterfully along, softly singing to the tunes.

He sets aside the pioneers of the 60s blues revolution and gets into the blues of the 20s and the 30s and those of the later pre-war era. He brings up front musicians like Lil’ Son Jackson, Snooky Pryor, Fats Waller and Johnny Burke and Lane Hardin, without forgetting about little Walter or Robert Wilkins. You know, those times are so beautiful and magical for the blues and the jazz music, back when pop music was an unfamiliar term. When black music was closer to its spiritual roots than the vast arenas and the huge audiences.

He never forgets to create new music, together with his beloved musical partner of the days, J.J. Cale, who also appears as a guest. And not alone, since the ensemble is magnificent. Allen Toussaint, the new hot prospect Doyle Bramhall II, Walter Richmond, Kim Wilson, Sheryl Crow, they all came aboard to play along. And of course, the great Derek Trucks and the legendary Wynton Marsallis to blend all this blues with traditional, immortal jazz.

To finish as we started, I believe it is a pity that most people will pass on this review, looking for something more familiar to them. Nevertheless, maybe for those that will finally read it, this could be an opportunity to listen to Eric Clapton with a new perspective and blues music for what it really is.