Genius or an overrated relic? The Eric Clapton albums you should definitely listen to

John Mayall - Blues Breakers With Eric Clapton (Decca, 1966)

Clapton had left The Yardbirds to get the blues under his fingernails, and Blues Breakers With Eric Clapton let him off the leash for the first time. Ignoring the recording engineer’s orders/requests to turn down the volume, the 21-year-old rips through this blues masterclass with staggering ferocity and feel.

Clapton is equally dazzling with his languid solo in All Your Love and the fruity showboating on Hideaway, on Have You Heard his playing is just breathtaking. The ‘Clapton Is God’ graffiti began to appear in the wake of this album, and even the poor sod who had to scrub it off wouldn’t have argued.

Cream - Disraeli Gears (Polydor, 1967)

Flown to New York to record under the scrutiny of their Atlantic Records paymasters, Cream delivered in spades with this mind-blowing second album. Label boss Ahmet Ertegun testified that he’d never heard a band play so loud, nor a guitarist squeeze as much soul from his fretboard, and Disraeli Gears bottled both to perfection.

Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker are on fire throughout – the bassist also contributed the song that ate America, Sunshine Of Your Love – but from the wah-wah breakouts of Tales Of Brave Ulysses to the hypnotic, Byrds-inspired groove of Dance The Night Away, it’s Clapton’s soulful performances that really stick in the memory.

Derek And The Dominos Layla - And Other Assorted Love Songs (Polydor, 1970)

Derek And The Dominos was Clapton’s attempt to extricate himself from the limelight, and while he got his wish (Layla And Other Assorted Love Songs didn’t chart in the UK), these fiery performances are a major reason for his enduring kudos.

Lusting after George Harrison’s wife Pattie and using heroin to dull the pain, Clapton’s world was falling apart as he entered Criteria studios in August 1970, and his heartache seeped into these tracks, from the plaintive guitar duel with Duane Allman on Layla to the wistful take on Nobody Knows You When You’re Down And Out. The last great Clapton record?

Cream - Wheels Of Fire (Polydor, 1968)

With Clapton admitting that Cream had “lost direction”, by August 1968 the world’s first supergroup was all over bar the farewell gigs, leaving a shattered fanbase to pick over third album Wheels Of Fire by way of consolation.

While it lacked a little of the cohesion of Disraeli Gears, the double version of Wheels… was the better snapshot of Cream’s dual personality, with the first slice of vinyl containing studio-honed anthems like White Room and Politician, and the second platter containing roof-removing extended live takes on Crossroads and a 17-minute Spoonful. To truly understand why Cream conquered the planet, you need to hear both.

Eric Clapton - 461 Ocean Boulevard (Polydor, 1974)

Recorded in the Miami studio of the same name, 461 Ocean Boulevard rescued Clapton from a period of heroin-fuelled isolation and musical inertia. To make the line in the sand clearer still, the guitarist used this, his comeback album to strip away the bombast of Cream in favour of a streamlined and varied sound that took in everything from reggae (a cover of Bob Marley’s I Shot The Sheriff) to funk-blues (Steady Rollin’ Man) and redemptive soul-rock (Let It Grow).

His solo career would soon begin to meander, but on 461… Clapton still sounds refreshed and energised, playing with the vigour of a man who is happy – perhaps even a little surprised – to be alive.

Eric Clapton - Slowhand (Polydor, 1977)

Clapton’s nickname had seemed innappropriate as he blazed through his early career, but as he developed as a solo artist, pulled his personal life back from the brink and introduced light and shade into his guitar playing, it made for an apt album title.

In an otherwise patchy period of his career, Slowhand finds Clapton on confident and unfussy form; punchy and indignant on his cover of J.J. Cale’s Cocaine, masterful on John Martyn’s May You Never, sentimental but never slushy on Wonderful Tonight. Sadly, what should have been a springboard was a blip in a downward trajectory His solo career would never sound so vital again.

Eric Clapton - Unplugged (Warners, 1992)

“See if you can spot this one…” chuckles Clapton as he starts playing a reworked (and at first unrecognisable) version of Layla for the benefit of a small audience at London’s Bray Studios. It was the highlight of a live album that represented Clapton’s bravest move in decades, as the guitarist trimmed the fat from a set of blues standards (some covers, some his own compositions) and laid his masterful technique bare in the process.

From the drifting groove of Signe, through the grizzled reading of Nobody Knows You When You’re Down And Out, to the affecting Tears In Heaven, the lack of power did not lessen the crackle of electricity in these performances.

Eric Clapton - From The Cradle (Warners, 1994)

Clapton’s own material in the 90s might have been sporadic, but his blues covers on From The Cradle proved that he’d lost none of his flair for interpreting the past masters.

Sounding relieved to be back in his natural habitat, and playing with a fluency that many people believed had deserted him for good (helped, no doubt, by the fact that it was recorded live), Slowhand gives everyone from Willie Dixon to Freddie King a run for their money, with standouts including (respectively) Third Degree and Someday After A While. Granted, the album might have been a circling of wagons, but Clapton hadn’t sounded this good for decades.

Cream - Fresh Cream (Polydor, 1966)

God backed by the greatest rhythm section on the London blues circuit; what could possibly go wrong? Nothing, of course, and after Clapton persuaded sparring partners Baker and Bruce to bury the hatchet long enough to record Fresh Cream in London, Cream’s debut duly rolled and tumbled into the UK Top 10.

Already starting to find their own voice on Bruce-composed tracks like N.S.U. and I Feel Free, the band were even more devastating on the covers of Willie Dixon’s Spoonful and ‘Skip’ James’s I’m So Glad, with Clapton’s guitar solos establishing him as the star of this superstar trio. Unbelievably, better was to follow.

Eric Clapton - Pilgrim (Warners, 1998)

Stick a pin in Clapton’s late-period work and you’re liable to hit a stinker, but for sheer lack of invention and balls Pilgrim is routinely and deservedly held up as his lowest ebb.

Clapton’s first album of original material since 1989’s Journeyman, Pilgrim sounded like the great man was at least trying, but the rare flashes of compositional merit were buried beneath his own torpid vocal delivery and Simon Climie’s criminally bland production. Too smooth, too slick, too soulless, too soporific… throw in Clapton’s steadfast refusal to play anything approaching a decent guitar solo and you’ve got the musical equivalent of a lungful of chloroform.