Nobody ever said it was easy being God. Nobody ever said it was a gig Eric Clapton even asked for. The man has spent most of his career trying to deny both the implications of the graffiti first splattered all over London almost two decades ago and the magnitude of his gifts. With each post-"Layla" effort, his message became clearer: I'm only human; allow me to fail.
After his well-publicized bouts with drugs and a string of lackluster records, Clapton sounded
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as if he had finally gained control of his life and his music on his last studio album, 1983's
Money and Cigarettes. Unfortunately, since that record lacked a solid single and was terribly untrendy, it was not a major success.
Perhaps that explains why and how Clapton was persuaded to participate in the slick but inconsistent Behind the Sun, instead of the great comeback he seemed so ready to record. The good news is Clapton's singing. Even on the perfunctory cover of "Knock on Wood" (a classic song, but he should have saved it for a concert encore and let it appear on the obligatory live album), his voice has a rich new depth, like whiskey aged to perfection. But neither Phil Collins, who produced most of the album, nor Warner Bros. honchos Ted Templeman and Lenny Waronker, who tried to rescue it with three formula "hits," ever push Clapton to pull one truly memorable moment out of his big old bag of guitar tricks. Perhaps Collins, who is, by any account, a fine singer, an excellent drummer and an inventive producer, was either too awed by Clapton's stature to make any changes in his songs or had used up all of his best ideas on his many other projects. Maybe he just didn't have time to finish the job properly. Only on "She's Waiting" does Collins employ his trademark cannonlike drum sound or creative imagination. It's also possible that, like an outsider stumbling upon a scene of private sorrow, Collins was afraid to intrude or tamper with the material. In contrast to the buoyant mood of Money and Cigarettes, Clapton's originals on the new album are filled with heartbreak and love's failure. (While recording Behind the Sun, he temporarily split up with his wife, Patti.)
Maybe that's why Templeman and Waronker stepped in with their light and happy songs – all written by someone named Jerry Lynn Williams. But Templeman's Doobie-proven cosmetic approach to production – the heap of synthesizers, conked-out congas, gooey cooing and tired Totos – almost buries the artist himself. Even when local nut Lindsey Buckingham shows up on rhythm guitar on "Something's Happening," his contribution is negligible. Of course, it's possible that in these days of easy-listening radio and heavy promotion, Clapton may have a hit anyway. On his last tour, it was apparent that the soppy ballads like "Wonderful Tonight" that have so disappointed Clapton's original rock fans have earned him a whole new young (and, surprisingly, very female) audien
