Derek and the Dominos: In Concert : Music Reviews : Rolling Stone

Album Reviews

It probably shouldn't matter that the music on this album was made over two years ago (the set was recorded at gigs at the Fillmore East in October, 1970) but somehow there's a strange feel of time warp.

Perspectively speaking, the Dominos had done their first public gig only about four months previously, a benefit in England. A few weeks later the Eric Clapton solo LP was released, the one recorded while Clapton was on tour with Delaney & Bonnie and Friends. The album had been completed except for final mixing, which was delayed for some time, and by its final release date much of Eric's style and approach had changed; still the LP was the first evidence that Clapton had any vocal ability beyond an occasional "Crossroads."

The Dominos were billed as a rock & roll band and only scattered reports preceded them to the shores of the US. The Layla set (probably the only valid double LP since Blonde On Blonde) had not yet been released, and much of the material was new to the audience those nights. But that didn't matter, it was Eric Clapton, right? (Clapton had deliberately chosen the group name to avoid being the pinpoint of focus. The record company countered at promo parties by passing out buttons which read Derek Is Eric or somesuch. Sometimes it's hard to stay anonymous.)

A lot of people in New York, musician and fan alike, were hot to find out what Clapton was up to, and the shows were definitely a hot ticket item. Expectation hung thick as stoned sponges, and the air was pretty electric by the time that Clapton and Company came on. Eric's vocals were stronger and more expressive than on the solo LP and the music had flashes of absolute blazing brilliance, but the flashes seemed set in a dense wall of sound that dimmed them. There were thick waves of organ-guitar washes, but it was almost too rich, too long, too hollow. The overall feeling was of flawed awe. I figured maybe it was just my head that night, because when I heard the Layla set a few weeks later I was flat floored by the Clapton-Duane Allman collaboration and I superimposed the album on my memory of the gigs.

Around June of the next year (1971, if you're taking notes) the English music papers headlined Dominos Split; the stories went that differences during sessions for the second Domino LP had resulted in the dissolution of the group.

Various rumors popped up from time to time about Clapton's plans: He was going to join Traffic, the Beatles, Jagger was rumored to have asked him to join the Stones ... but outside of a few scattered appearances and session work, he became a virtual recluse in his English country home. Recently he got the Playboy "Jazz and Pop Hall of Fame" award (runners-up number two, three and four—Duane Allman, Neil Diamond, Doc Severinsen)—and an accompanying article confidently forecast he would "most likely appear soon, with a new musical bag." Right on, rabbit.

However, until then we have this double set which, in the talking stages, was to have included tracks from the ill-fated studio sessions as well as out-takes from the Dominos' first album. Instead we get a Fillmore concert—four sides with nine tunes. At first flash I was both justified and disappointed bitterly: Much of the music those nights was too thick, too long and pointless—and in comparison to the Layla sessions the cuts here seemed hollow and lacking. But after three or four plays I found myself digging cuts that had before either bored or annoyed me. This seems to be one of those LPs that grows on, rather than off, your synapses.

Of the nine tunes, seven have previously appeared on LP in studio versions. Taking it chronologically, three come from the solo LP. "Let It Rain" (co-authored by Bonnie) is here about three times the length of the studio version, and about twice as long as it deserves to be. As is often the case with live versions of studio songs, this is less melodic and structured, but looser and with room for more riffing. But there isn't much dynamic variation and the tune is overextended. You'll either be delighted or dragged that there's a nice-sized Jim Gordon drum solo included within—I'm not a drum maniac, but Gordon has taste and chops. "Bottle of Red Wine" is, strangely enough, one of the few cuts which is more driving than the studio version. Clapton turns in a nice wasted vocal.

"Presence of the Lord" is both better and worse than the Blind Faith version: Clapton's vocal is more hoarsely and intently appropriate, the feel of the band is more together here, but the wah-wah guitar break lacks the tense smolder of the studio version. Still after several hearings, the flow here seems better, the mood truer.

The major drawback to the material from Layla (and one of the main flaws in the album) is that Duane isn't there. To make up for the holes in the overall texture, Clapton tends to get busier and it all gets a bit cluttered. "Tell The Truth" is one of the worst casualties (if you're keeping score, this is the fourth different version released to date): The slide guitar on the studio version is such an integral part of the arrangement that the whole piece feels flat and almost boring without it. "Why Does Love Got to Be So Sad" works about the best. It's a standout track with nice dynamics and mood progressions—there's a rise and fall you can follow rather than the steamroller approach of most other cuts.

"Roll It Over" was a Phil Spector-produced track used as the flip side of the single release of "Tell The Truth." The version here is a bit less spirited, but still a nice mellow rocker about "variant lovemaking," as sosh students or vice-squadders might say. Pleasant, but nothing outstanding.

The other non-LP track hasn't turned up anywhere else I can think of—"Got to Get Better in a Little While" is another standout cut. There's some nice growling guitar work, good vocal interaction between Clapton and Bobby Whitlock (who also plays fine piano here), and in general a better group sound; things work, pieces fit and mesh. A stone groove. If you're into naked autobiography, dig the first verse.

"Blues Power" was a big crowd pleaser, and nice to hear again here. This time the fact that the track (co-written with Leon Russell) is three times its original length is in its favor; the number is taken at a slower tempo, but rocks a bit more. Throughout, Clapton's guitar is impeccable—dig the throwaway intro—clean as a wet hummingbird.

Saving the best for last (just like the canny folks at Robert Stigwood Organization Records): "Have You Ever Loved a Woman" is the single most impressive Clapton piece on the set. You miss Duane, sure, but Eric is almost demon-driven here. Where before his guitar was technically accomplished, here it's firey, tasty and inventive—riffs and variations are spun off spools of flaming thought threads, an impressive and ballsy creation. I'd be tempted to say that these seven or so minutes are worth the price of the LP. They're not, but that's only because it costs too much. (Dig yourself, RSO.)

My first conclusion was that this would've made a good single album—or a double with half of the material coming from studio sessions (I've heard one ten-minute Clapton-Allman-Dominos jam that equals almost any track here) but now I ain't so sure. I'd still like to hear that other stuff, but with repeated plays this album seems to get better.

Though there are excesses and overkills here, there are flashes of sheer brilliance as well. The Radler-Gordon rhythm section is rock steady, Whitlock adds good vocal harmonies and yelps—and uneven Clapton still stands pretty tall in the forest of mediocre guitar wranglers strutting their changes nowadays.

You can't listen to this album the way you could to the Dominos' first; your mind wanders. But if you let loose, I'll bet you get pulled in more than thrown out. If, like me, you were let down by this the first few times, give it another shot ... Clapton's earned the right to at least three chances, right?