The year 1969 has not been a very good one for rock and roll. Outside of Tommy and the Band's decision to go on tour, we haven't had much to get excited about. But the other arts have suffered as well. Like Jim Morrison in Miami and John and Yoko on their album cover, the "best" of the novel—(Portnoy's Complaint), film—I Am Curious (Yellow)' and theatre—numerous examples, have practically had to jerk off to their audiences in order to draw attention to otherwise-undistinguished products.
Art theorists have hypothesized that artists are usually most inspired in times of crisis, that the forces of history push them to greater personal achievements. Perhaps
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the reason this does not hold true today is that while crisis is one thing, times are getting out of hand. With scientists calmly packing away quart bottles of nerve gas that can kill fifty people with one drop, military helicopters staging air attacks on their own populations, and atrocities bizarre beyond the imagination, the artist, too, must eventually feel the strain. Art suffers at the hands of Reality.
Blind Faith can be viewed as an attempt to jar rock out of these doldrums. The group is based on the idea that if you take three of the best soloists around and form them into a single smooth-functioning unit, the result will be one incredible rock band. Ego conflicts must be kept at a minimum; solos are taken not because someone feels like flashing for a while, but because the song calls for a solo at that point.
The formula works nearly perfectly on this album—when it is followed. The music is phenomenal in places, weak in others. Unfortunately, the weakest song on the album is fifteen minutes long and takes up almost a whole side.
By far the best song is "Presence of the Lord," an Eric Clapton hymn which explains in part how Blind Faith ever came to be. The majesty of the organ even makes it sound like a church song, until Clapton wah-wahs off on a quick solo that's so good it makes me want to apologize for every snide thing I've ever said or thought about him. The first time I heard this song, it brought me out of my listening chair, mouth wide open in awe. It still does. Never has a guitarist said so much so beautifully in such a short time. The solo is so inspirational it can't help but make the lyrics that much more believable.
In fact, it's so good it tends to overshadow two other very fine cuts on the album. "Had to Cry Today" goes through several interesting changes, Clapton always bringing it back to the main theme. The choice of Rick Grech. heretofore almost unknown, as bassist is fully justified by his work on this song. "Can't Find My Way Home." a pleading Stevie Winwood tune, features Ginger Baker's highly innovative percussion and the delightful line, "Well I'm wasted and I can't find my way home."
"Do What You Like" is a fine five-minute rock song which is destroyed when it is dragged out te
Blind Faith became synonymous with the idea that the "supergroup" was doomed to fail, and their debut record is not exactly the sum of its parts (Eric Clapton, Steve Winwood and Ginger Baker). But "Presence of the Lord" is one of Clapton's very best songs, and under the right circumstances (it's 1970, you're in a van) "Can't Find My Way Home" will get you laid.
