Tapping back into the magic which featured so heavily on 461 Ocean Boulevard is no small feat. Eric Clapton tries anyway, and with no real success to be heard on There’s One in Every Crowd. As middle of the road as his music could get at the time, the master guitarist falling well below expectation. Expectations he set himself, mind. A cover of a Bob Marley track and his notable vocal strength on Layla (And Other Assorted Love Songs) meant those with stock in Clapton as a musician who could write with strength and sincerity were short-changed. Their emotional investment in Clapton sounds a tad squandered here, though that’s not to say There’s One in Every Crowd doesn’t have its moments. But Clapton, up to this point anyway, and aside from an unremarkable self-titled debut, had never been a musician of moments. He was a fully realised project man with an understanding of what would thrill a listener and what would make them think. That killer instinct is absent here.
What remains is the effective instrumental purpose Clapton has. He’s hardly going to get rid of what brought so many listeners to him. It’s subdued somewhat by opener We’ve Been Told (Jesus Coming Soon) though that song is essential in figuring out the new instrumental route. There’s a freshness to There’s One in Every Crowd, a conscious decision from Clapton to change up the tone and style of his work after so much success with blues rock. It works, though sounds relatively timid. Clapton explores his influences rather than what he can use to influence others, and there’s plenty of artists who do just that. A relaxed sounding Swing Low Sweet Chariot gets to grips with that new instrumental tone well enough, but it becomes quite repetitive. Clapton, in wanting to highlight the influences of his past, is handling them with too much care. There’s One in Every Crowd feels like a fragile piece of work because the disturbance of the genre would be too much for Clapton to bear.
Dick Sims on the organ and piano, that’s the driving force of this reggae sound. Clapton adapts his vocals well enough to the genre, relying more on a collection of solid backing singers than anything else. Don’t Blame Me, for instance, is a solid pop of that reggae style. Where Clapton shows his best works on There’s One in Every Crowd, though, is The Sky is Crying and Singin’ the Blues. The latter is a giveaway, but the electric guitar flourishes, the lesser focus on those reggae influences, it’s clear what Clapton is better at. None of it stands out all that much but there are charming moments to be found throughout There’s One in Every Crowd. Quite a flat album all things considered, but there’s an instrumental spirit and a constant likeability to the album that Waters manages to kindle.
It sounds as though Clapton is at a loss of what to do, instrumentally that is. He wraps himself in the warmth of his influences, though he doesn’t seem to have much in the way of new ideas. No harm comes from the album. No brilliance, either. It’s a tricky balance which isn’t quite held up by Clapton, who at times wants to shine a light on his instrumental style, but in other moments shies away from his duties as a guitarist. He seems more comfortable as a member of a group around this time, popping up in the studio with Eric Clapton and Ringo Starr in the years to follow There’s One in Every Crowd. Maybe that’s just playing with friends, jamming with those musicians he came to be considered as good as. There’s One in Every Crowd is likeable in a passive way, but it lacks the killer instinct or the sentimental blowout which would feature in Clapton’s best work.
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