Many of the biggest names in rock ‘n’ roll have been the subjects of provocative books detailing the triumphs and tragedies of a life spent beneath the baking glow of stage lights and hopefully just out of the reach of hotel security. Some would sadly write their own endings too soon, and thus were not available for comment when pot-boiling biographies bubbled over, feeding the public’s insatiable hunger for tales of debauched sexuality and chemical excess. But others, through a series of not-so-minor miracles and, most likely, one or more lengthy vacations in a rehabilitation facility, managed to stick around long enough to commit their own stories to paper with the mature perspective of one that has faced six or seven decades and 12 steps.

Among the most recent additions to this latter cadre is Eric Clapton, an artist whose accessible music and wise countenance belie the utter chaos that defined his personal life for much of the ‘70s and ‘80s. Suffering at different points, though often concurrently, from unrequited love, drug and alcohol addiction, the fall-out from numerous infidelities, and the death of a child, Slowhand has undoubtedly spun an epic that would leave Homer at a loss for words (the Greek poet, not the jaundiced cartoon patriarch).

Just as intriguing, however, are his observations from the midst of all that turmoil. In this 1975 interview, recorded shortly before work had begun on No Reason to Cry and conducted by the “Mary” of Peter, Paul and Mary of all people, Clapton speaks openly and somewhat lucidly on a number of topics stretching all the way back to the Yardbirds.

Though certainly possessed of a formidable and influential talent, Clapton’s own story has proved that he is not God as the famous graffiti said; rather, he is merely human. But, luckily for his fans, Clapton shares more than just music with the great bluesmen that inspired him—like many of them, he has endured.

Here’s Part I of the interview:

Part II: