Slowhand Jive

Recently, many rock and rollers and also a few rappers have been drawing much-deserved flak for flouting COVID restrictions and speaking out against COVID vaccines.  And even though folks like Neil Young, Joni Mitchell and now Nils Lofgren have had their music pulled off Spotify to protest the streaming service's commitment to airing Joe Rogan's podcast, it's the anti-vax stars who continue to and will continue to get the big headlines.  And no anti-vax rocker has gotten more press than Eric Clapton.

Clapton has spoken out against vaccines after feeling side effects from the AstraZeneca shot, and he's campaigned vigorously against vaccine requirements and restrictions on live performances during the worst of the COVID pandemic.  He's even suggested that those who follow COVID guidelines are victims of "mass formation hypnosis," a theory proposed by Belgian psychologist Mattias Desmet that says that manipulative leaders use their power and influence to make people to do their bidding to gain control over them.

Since Clapton is an alcoholic, I have to wonder if he's drinking again.

Clapton is hardly alone here.  He's teamed up with Van Morrison to protest against COVID restrictions and vaccine requirements in Britain, and other rock and rap stars have spoken out against restrictions elsewhere - among them Nicki Minaj, Jim Corr of the Irish band the Corrs, and also Meat Loaf, who died a few days ago of what was most likely COVID.  But Clapton's case - which includes bankrolling an anti-vaccine musicians' organization in Britain - is especially troubling, revealing his predilection for conspiracy theories and distrust of the government, which led rock fans to recall his most infamous moment ever.  At a 1976 concert in Birmingham, England, an inebriated Clapton, fearful of foreigners taking over Britain and driving down job wages for native-born Britons, bashed the country's immigration policies and used racial epithets to describe the West Indian and Pakistani immigrants entering the United Kingdom.  He also declared his support for rabid right-wing anti-immigration politician Enoch Powell.  For rock fans aware of Clapton's debt to the blues and for his appreciation for black musicians, it was a slap in the face.  His music was no longer heard as a tribute to black American blues but as a form of cultural colonialism.  

Which is ironic, as Clapton in the mid-seventies was beginning to water down his sound, eventually becoming content to offer bland ballads like "Wonderful Tonight" and pop ditties like "I Can't Stand It."

Clapton's outburst led to Rock Against Racism concert festivals in both Britain and America in the late seventies, and though his Birmingham incident was eventually played down or forgotten, it's since come back to haunt him.  Not that Clapton cares; he continues to double down on his anti-COVID-restriction, anti-vaccine stand, offending even his own wife and daughters while leaving rock fans with their mouths agape.  His guitar skills don't excuse him.  As noted surgeon Ben Carson proved, you can be good with your hands while still having emptiness in your head.

I have two Clapton solo albums on cassette, and because my cassette player is on the blink yet again, I can't play them.  Since cassette players are so unreliable, I think I'll just replace as many albums on cassette as I can with CDs, but I can't afford to replace all of them, so some of those titles will have to be culled from my record collection.  The Clapton albums are two of those titles on my cull list.  Because even though Clapton's boneheaded conspiracy theories and virulent racism have hardly interfered with his status as a legend, he's lost fans - including me - he will never get back.

Ahh, Jimi Hendrix was a better guitarist anyway.  So was Duane Allman.  And so is Stephen Stills.