Eric Clapton in Concert
A fan comes full circle

by Jim Carchidi

Check out Jim's photos from this show here.

April 4, 1990 - Philadelphia, PA: It’s my first Eric Clapton concert. The Journeyman Tour is in full swing, The Spectrum is sold out and I’m less than 20 rows from the stage!

My knowledge of blues music is limited to Led Zeppelin covers and the legends featured in The Blues Brothers. Clapton, however, bridges gaps in both age and musical awareness. This is my “live” introduction to the genre.

Though I was vertically challenged and had to stand on my chair for a consistent view of the stage, outstanding moments include: Clapton’s electric blue Stratocaster that seemed to change color under the strobe lights; the slick black suit that rendered him almost invisible in the dark mood-lighting of the show; a slow, soulful rendition of Crossroads; some of the best - and longest - guitar solos you could hope for - all EC, all night long; and wondering how I could get permission to photograph a show like this.

October 20, 2006 - Orlando, FL: It’s been over 16 years since my first Eric Clapton show. His first tour since the Cream reunion is coming to an end, the TD Waterhouse Centre is sold out and I’m the house photographer!

To say this is a big deal is to make a gargantuan understatement. If coming full circle is a dizzying experience, I was flat on my ass.

Since discovering the works of Robert Johnson and experiencing live shows by the likes of BB King, Buddy Guy and James Brown, it’s safe to say my appreciation of blues music has matured. And my experience and contacts as a concert photographer for The Orlando Sentinel helped make this night possible. I’m a long way from Philadelphia, both physically and metaphorically.

As I waited by the arena security office, a traditional meeting spot for the working “visual” media before a show, I thought about that first Clapton show while I checked my camera settings and cleaned the lenses. From behind a makeshift divider of stacked speaker cases and audience chairs someone was tuning a guitar. A figure sat, hunched over a Stratocaster, and listened with closed eyes as the acoustic tones of the unplugged instrument sang to him. As he worked, I couldn’t help but think that, in spite of his averted gaze, he bore a striking resemblance to blues legend and opening act Robert Cray. Then he glanced briefly up at me – and it was Robert Cray.

There are no photos allowed backstage, and conversation while someone is that deep in concentration is inconsiderate at best. It remains one of those moments that’s uniquely mine.

Photographers were restricted to the soundboard and could only shoot during the first two songs. The prospect of poor lighting and mediocre visuals weighed heavy in the minds and conversation of the five attending photographers. My trust in karma was tested since earlier, I had loaned an extra lens to a peer. My own equipment was sufficient but I still had my doubts.

Long story short: Karma paid off.

Cray’s set was inspired and soulful. I do not pretend to be a music writer and my vocabulary in the genre is quite limited, but if it was possible to bare your soul through the strings of an instrument, he did it. As one attending photographer put it, “the man flat-out makes love to the guitar.” As I said, we were only allowed to shoot two songs, but as we commiserated in a backstage office we could hear the show happening just yards away.

Before we knew it, it was time for the headliner to take the stage. A brief walk back to our positions; one last check of our equipment; and the lights dimmed. A soft blue light enveloped the stage as the band took their positions and the first chords of “Pretending” were struck.

Sixteen years were wiped away in the reverb of a string, and I was that awe-struck kid once again. But time was short, and I could geek out later. The frantic fight against changing lights, slow shutter speeds and a constantly-moving crowd that frequently stood in our way was soon over, in spite of the long guitar solos during “Pretending” and the second offering, “I Shot The Sheriff.”

We were escorted back to our office retreat to pack up our gear. Photographers usually have to leave once their job is done unless they have their own ticket. And this night, I came prepared.

After handing off my gear to the security office and making a mad dash to my seat, I was free to be the blues geek I am.

There was little conversation from the stage: The band was all business and the performance spoke for itself. The black suit from long ago was replaced with a polo shirt and a worn pair of jeans. The spotlight was very generously shared with EC’s band mates who stole the show on several occasions. Back-up guitarist and fellow six-string aficionado Derek Trucks had the crowd on its feet on several occasions.

Other outstanding moments included: An acoustic set of blues tunes including “Key to the Highway”, “San Francisco Bay Blues” - which included the entertaining sight of EC playing a kazoo mounted on a harmonica stand – “Nobody Knows You When You’re Down And Out” and “Running On Faith.”

Robert Cray joined EC and the band for what had to be a 20-minute rendition of “Old Love” that featured Cray and Clapton trading solos, a truly remarkable treat for anyone of any age. (Looking back on my notes from the show I can recognize the following scrawl: “Old Love, Cray Solo, Holy Crap.” Yeah, that sums it up.

A rocking version of “After Midnight” led into the obligatory chick-pleasing, slow-dancing version of “Wonderful Tonight.” Afterward, you could almost hear the guys in the crowd begging for Layla.

They played it, and the familiar piano chords leading into the guitar coda that finished the famous tune nearly brought the house down.

Then they played “Cocaine!”

Afterward, the hoarse voices in the audience cheered for more as the band exited the stage. After a moment of concern over the encore after what was already a two-hour-long show, the stage crew brought out new guitars and tune-checked the drums.

There was the band, there was EC, there was Robert Cray, there was “Crossroads!”

Cray took lead vocals for the first half of the tune as he, Clapton, Trucks and EC’s other virtuoso guitarist, Doyle Bramhall, took turns in the spotlight.

Robert Johnson would have been proud. The crowd was elated.

After the last chord was struck and the last note echoed from the last amp, the band bid their farewells and took their leave.

As the rush to the parking lot began, I slowly made my way to security to claim my camera and ambled my way to the car. The evenings’ events, both recent and long past, replayed in my mind, completing a circle from which I was now completely dizzy.

And completely satisfied.


See some of Jim's other concert photography here.

To comment on this story, or find more articles and photos, click here to visit FieldsEdge.com