Eric Clapton

Me and Mr. Johnson

(Warner Bros.)

Eric Clapton takes a ride into Mississippi delta country in his new release, revisiting the juncture of Highways 61 and 49—the crossroads where they say the king of all bluesmen, the legendary Robert Johnson, sold his soul to the devil for musical genius. Even the most bulletproof rock icon was once just another wide-eyed fanboy, and Clapton has made no secret of his lifelong devotion to Johnson, whose fingerprints have been indelibly burned into nearly every one of Clapton’s efforts. Me and Mr. Johnson marks the consummation of this love affair, as Clapton reverently tackles 14 of his idol’s creations.

Departing from the painstaking economy of Johnson’s guitar-and-voice arrangements, Clapton gives the erstwhile-skeletal pieces the full rock and roll treatment: his veteran band (which includes luminaries like keyboardist Billy Preston) adorns Johnson’s work with bass, drums, keyboard and harmonica. The extra sonic dimension feels more like revelation than heresy; the ease with which Clapton and his band introduce these new layers testifies to the oceanic depth of the songs. From the slow and dirty grind of “Milkcow’s Calf Blues” to the exhilarating ragtime bounce of “They’re Red Hot,” in which Preston’s swaggering piano truly shines, Clapton’s interpretations are uniformly satisfying. And while his vocals can’t touch Johnson’s forlorn howl, Clapton sings with disarming sincerity, conviction and obvious passion for the music.

Me and Mr. Johnson can’t improve on the original—as Clapton would readily attest—but it admirably and capably translates Johnson’s oeuvre for a new audience. An altogether pleasurable gateway into the world of the blues

Various Artists

Kill Bill, Vol. 2 Original Soundtrack

(A Band Apart/Maverick)

Quentin Tarantino continues his found-art odyssey through the fringes of culture on the soundtrack to Kill Bill Vol. 2, coming up with yet another bounty of oddities and forgotten “classics.” But, though providing an intriguing and original listen, this installment lacks the immediacy and sparkle of its predecessor.

As a hedge, I will mention that I have not yet seen the film, which undoubtedly impairs my appreciation of the soundtrack. Perhaps this makes it unfair for me to judge this album, but the fact remains that past Tarantino soundtracks have been excellent to begin with: Association with their respective films has made them beatific.

Which is not to say that there is not some excellent music on this disc. Ennio Morricone, whose influence was all over the last soundtrack, emerges from the shadows here to contribute three spaghetti-western suspense pieces. Malcolm McLaren turns in an eerie trip-hop remake of the Zombies’ “She’s Not There” retitled “About Her.”

On “Urami Bushi,” Meiko Kaji reappears with another hazy torch song in the spirit of her track on the last album, “The Flower of Carnage.” The combination of this track with Shivaree’s gorgeous “Goodnight Moon” ensures that Nancy Sinatra is felt if not heard this time around.

Towering over the rest of the album, though, is the latter-day Johnny Cash rendition of “A Satisfied Mind.” The song’s gravelly sincerity may seem a little out of place among the ironic kitsch of the rest of the album, but let’s not forget that Cash shot a man in Reno just to watch him die long before the Bride even knew the meaning of the word “dismemberment.”

Lou Reed