I had managed to push the loathsome, vacuous blackhole that is Eric Clapton to the furthest recesses of my brain until I was sat at a viewing of the recent Scorcese film about George Harrison and then, suddenly, without any advisory warnings before the film, there he was. onscreen, spewing his vile,odorous presence over the entrapped audience.
So let’s start with his main contribution to the film which largely consisted of his infatuatuation with and attempts to seduce Harrison’s wife, Pattie Boyd. One of the features of Clapton’s life has been his lack of loyalty to friends and his frequent extra-marital flings which always seem to result in children. Having been invited by Harrison to perform in the Concert for Bangladesh, he repaid his friend by ingesting so much heroin immediately before , that he collapsed onstage and had to be resuscitated. Still, if we judge and condemn rock stars by those measures, we should find ourselves listening to little more than Cliff Richard and Aled Jones. So we shall allow, reluctantly, his drug-fuelled and priapic pursuits a measure of leeway.
The music itself is enough to condemn him. Here was a man who made his reputation by recycling the music of black performers and homogenising it for white audiences. In the 1960s he did this with the blues and in the 1970s he did it with reggae (just compare his anodyne version of ‘I Shot The Sheriff’ with Bob Marley’s original). Not content with bringing white reggae to the world, he unleashed ‘Wonderful Tonight’, a love song for really stupid, verging on moronic, people, later to appear on Jeremy Kyle, to fuck and propogate to. The song must have been written as a bet to see whether the resultant number of children conceived to this rubbish could match Clapton’s own brood of illegitimate offspring. It’s a song that makes you want to listen to Chris de Burgh as a preferable option. Or how about ‘Lay Down Sally,’ a dreary song solely enlivened by the thought of the poor girl actually bending to his will only to hack his cock off with a razor blade a la ‘Ai No Korida.’ And if you really want to vomit whilst listening to a song, you could try ‘Tears In Heaven’, as mawkish and self pitying as anything I have ever heard. (By the way, if you want a babysitter, I wouldn’t recommend Eric).
If all of that wasn’t enough, there is the conveniently glossed over fact that Clapton is an out and out racist. At the age of 31 (this was not a youthful indiscretion like Paul Weller’s admiration of Margaret Thatcher), Clapton decided to publicly use the slogan adopted by the National Front: “Keep Britain White.” I normally edit quotations but this despicable tirade of abuse deserves to be heard in its entirety: “I used to be into dope, now I’m into racism. It’s much heavier, man. Fucking wogs, man. Fucking Saudis taking over London. Bastard wogs. Britain is becoming overcrowded and Enoch will stop it and send them all back. The black wogs and coons and Arabs and fucking Jamaicans and fucking [indecipherable] don’t belong here, we don’t want them here. This is England, this is a white country, we don’t want any black wogs and coons living here. We need to make clear to them they are not welcome. England is for white people, man. We are a white country. I don’t want fucking wogs living next to me with their standards. This is Great Britain, a white country, what is happening to us, for fuck’s sake? We need to vote for Enoch Powell, he’s a great man, speaking truth. Vote for Enoch, he’s our man, he’s on our side, he’ll look after us. I want all of you here to vote for Enoch, support him, he’s on our side. Enoch for Prime Minister! Throw the wogs out! Keep Britain white!” The 21 year old student who racially abused the footballer Fabrice Muamba on Twitter received 56 days in prison. What a pity the law wasn’t so stringent in the 1970s. The main excuse I have heard for Clapton’s comments is that he was drunk. However, as a frequent drunk myself, I adhere to the phrase,” In vino veritas.” Was he still drunk in 2004, when he told Uncut magazine that Enoch Powell was “outrageously brave” and that his “feeling about this has not changed?” And yet again in 2007, Clapton once again hailed the political opinions of Enoch Powell, this time to Melvyn Bragg on The South Bank Show.
In 2009, Clapton was reckoned to have £120 million in assets, money made off the back of black performers whose work and music he has colonised to the benefit of himself. Many white performers have done this but none with such a contempt for his source material. The physical and mental revulsion I have for this man cannot be put into words. I am one of those “Arabs”, one of those “wogs” Clapton wants rid of. Well, Eric, I have news for you: there are nearly ten million “black wogs and coons and Arabs and fucking Jamaicans” living in this “white country” now and only one of you. You may have shot the sheriff but you should have shot the deputy. Because he’s black And he’s coming for you.