For years, fans craved an all-blues album from Eric Clapton; he waited until 1994 to deliver From the Cradle.
The album manages to re-create the ambience of postwar electric blues, right down to the bottomless thump of the rhythm section.
If it wasn't for Clapton's labored vocals, everything would be perfect.
As long as he plays his guitar, he can't fail -- his solos are white-hot and evocative, original and captivating.
When he sings, Clapton loses that sense of originality, choosing to mimic the vocals of the original recordings.
At times, his overemotive singing is painful; he doesn't have the strength to pull off Howlin' Wolf's growl or the confidence to replicate Muddy Waters' assured phrasing.
Yet, whenever he plays, it's easier to forget his vocal shortcomings.
Even with its faults, From the Cradle is one of Clapton's finest moments.