Rarely does a rock show come with so much historical baggage. Thirty-seven years since they had last played a concert together — at the Albert Hall on November 26, 1968 — Eric Clapton, Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker returned there last night.

A lifetime had passed, for both group and audience, and it looked like it. Fans who might last have seen the original power trio when they were at school are now captains of industry.

Never before have the founding members of a group of this order made the transition from pioneers to nostalgic turn in one such gigantic step. Their reward was a tumultuous standing ovation before they had even played a note — and a succession of standing ovations after virtually every number they played thereafter. The rest of the time, however, the audience although clearly enthused, remained firmly in their seats.

The group, while evidently well-rehearsed and very happy to be on stage together, were not about to revisit the shock-and-awe tactics for which they are best remembered. During the opening salvo of I’m So Glad and Spoonful they made a few brief, tentative steps in the direction of an improvised free-for-all, but the closest they came to reviving the grandstanding habits of old was an extended solo section in Sweet Wine.

Instead they played with a newfound economy of effort that worked to best advantage on some of their more out of the way, pop-flavoured songs including Deserted Cities of the Heart and a surprise inclusion of Pressed Rat And Warthog, the lysergic nursery rhyme narrated by Baker in his cockney growl.

There were the odd fumbles here and there. During a raucous Rollin’ and Tumblin’, Bruce found it was his harmonica that was doing the rolling and tumbling somewhere between hand and mouth. Baker dropped a stick during the ensuing Stormy Monday Blues and completely missed the turnaround at the end of the first chorus of White Room. But these were minor quibbles.

Clapton, at 60, was not only the youngest and fittest of the three, but also the most comfortable in this elevated environment and, almost without trying, acquitted himself as first among equals. His soloing was simply outstanding, as was Bruce’s vocal performance, especially on Born Under a Bad Sign and Politician, although the relaxed stroll which the trio took through Crossroads was a disappointment compared with the electrifying drama of the classic version as captured on Wheels of Fire.

It ended with Baker playing his signature drum solo Toad. Here again the arrangement was more in the concise spirit of the studio recording of the number on Fresh Cream than the rambling 15-minute assault course of the live version on Wheels of Fire. It was noticeable how he made every beat count, striking his toms with incredible precision to produce that familiar sound of logs rolling down a mountainside.

You can’t turn back the clock, and in truth, they didn’t try. But it was still a tremendous thrill to see the three of them together again after all these years.

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