ric Clapton says that last year’s tour in support of his wretchedly awful album Reptile will be his last such tour. In honor of this, Mr. Clapton has been unkind enough to foist this tired excuse of a rock show on his fans, in a two-disc, specially jacked-up priced set, no less.


If Clapton indeed is retiring from the godless bitch that is the road, surely he could have gone out in a more spirited fashion. If this live album is any indication of the typical show he performed throughout last year, it could be said that asking for a full refund would not have been out of line.


Having seen him perform live less than ten years ago, it can be said that the man has the ability to bring down a house through an intense rocking of it. Did something happen in that time to bring about the muted, light jazz arrangements of songs old and new found on this album? Did Clapton lose every ounce of fire in his soul in that time?


It certainly sounds that way. Whether it be the utterly boring new jazz rendition of Reptile’s title track or the strained vocal on “Bell Bottom Blues” or the most banal performance of “Wonderful Tonight” ever committed to record, Clapton sounds as if he is on his last legs and a gentle tap would send him tumbling over.


Things start out promising with the opener, “Key To The Highway”. Clapton comes out and delivers a strong vocal, solo with only him and his acoustic guitar. Then comes one lame-duck rendition of one Clapton standard after another.


”Got You On My Mind”, “Tears In Heaven” (the song now far removed from any of the poignancy it once possessed), “Bell Bottom Blues”, “Change The World” and “Father’s Eyes” all move at a snail’s pace. Especially “Father’s Eyes”, wherein the song’s original length is extended into 8:35 of monotonous agony.


”River Of Tears” at least has a gentle soul vibe going for it and Clapton is in strong form vocally on it. His trademark bluesy growl pokes its head out long enough to infuse the song with some depth. But the first disc’s last two songs (“Going Down Slow” and “She’s Gone”) revert back into a gentle swing that is positively dull to listen to.


The second disc is more of a showcase for the inimitable power of keyboardist extraordinaire, Billy Preston. There isn’t much else better on this disc, but at least Preston’s nimble fingers keep things buzzing in the listener’s ears a bit. From his tinkling of the ivories on “I Want A Little Girl” to the extended coda of “Layla”, Preston is the ace card in Clapton’s band. Everything else is mixed down so precisely that the band sounds more like studio musicians than a real live band. So much so, that it is no wonder nothing ever soars in any way throughout the two discs.


The crowd is also extremely muted throughout. Whether this is through the mixing of the album or their actual level of excitement is unsure. There are rare moments where they do perk up a bit. On the brief guitar solo that punctuates “Badge” and on the intro to “Layla” (the only instance where the band really starts to simmer), the crowd cries out as if their prayers have finally been answered and “god” has indeed shown up for the concert.


But, this heady time is soon stolen from them with mild renditions of “Hoochie Coochie Man”, “Have You Ever Loved A Woman”, “Cocaine” and the aforementioned schlock of “Wonderful Tonight”.


To see Clapton, a recovered alcoholic and former heroin addict, still trotting out “Cocaine” for the masses is nothing more than disturbing in its wrong headedness. He even has a rehab clinic in the Bahamas (which, to misquote Sam Kinison, if you have the kind of money to go to the Bahamas for rehab, you don’t really have a problem), yet here he is singing about “Cocaine”. I suppose he feels that his inclusion of the line, “That dirty cocaine” in the chorus makes up for what has essentially become a commercial extolling the virtues of the powdery substance.


Finishing off with a tepid version of his old band, Cream’s hit “Sunshine Of Your Love” and an encore of, I kid you not, “Somewhere Over The Rainbow”, Clapton leaves a giant question mark over the heads of his audience and the buyers of this album. That question is: I paid how much for this?