Derek and the Dominos

An astonishing evocation of unrequited love, "Layla" is almost as celebrated for its real-life circumstances as for its emotionally involving sound. Written for the most part by Eric Clapton and inspired by the classical Persian love poem "Layla," the song sprung from a love triangle between Clapton, his best friend (George Harrison), and the best friend's wife (Patti Boyd). Heavy stuff, to be sure; indeed, Clapton later admitted that "being Derek was a cover for the fact that I was trying to steal someone else's wife." Of course, everyone knew Derek was Eric, just as they knew that the Dominos were the rhythm section Clapton had picked up through his association with Delaney & Bonnie. But it was just as obvious that the pain and longing expressed in the single was real, and that the genuine show of emotion put an edge on Clapton's vocals and fire in his guitar playing, helping his churning rhythm work throw sparks against the tart counterpoint of Duane Allman's slide. But it's Jim Gordon's stately, pastoral piano figure that has the final word, adding an air of hope and transcendence that seems almost to answer the pleas of the opening verses. Rarely do tragic love songs provide such a sense of redemption.

That isn't the only place such anguish comes across on Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs -- "Have You Ever Loved a Woman" and "Why Does Love Got to Be So Sad" spring to mind -- but the album isn't just an exploration of love denied. Instead, what Layla is ultimately about is the transformation of the blues, a process Clapton and his band mates manage through a variety of means. "Bell Bottom Blues," for instance, distills the pop-blues approach of Blind Faith and Cream into a memorable chorus and exquisite metaphor; "Tell the Truth" brings the white-soul groove Clapton mastered with Delaney & Bonnie to its fruition; while the exquisitely arranged "Little Wing" pulls a pathos (that even Hendrix missed) from the song.

As with any masterpiece, it wasn't easy to achieve such clarity of vision, and anyone wishing to hear just how much mediocre music had to be thrown away in making the album need only listen to the almost two and a quarter hours of outtakes and jam sessions included in The Layla Sessions. Although this 20th-anniversary-issue box set will doubtless be of interest to guitar fiends (thanks to more than an hour's worth of Clapton/Allman jams) and Clapton collectors, the sheer volume of material seems almost to lessen the original album's achievement. Great albums, it seems, are like sausage -- you really don't want to know how they're made.

Live at the Fillmore expands on In Concert, and at least it has the advantage of a slightly different set list (one that includes Blind Faith's "Presence of the Lord" and three songs from Clapton's first solo album), but that isn't quite enough to overcome the interminable solos and often rambling playing. (J.D.CONSIDINE)

From the 2004 The New Rolling Stone Album Guide