Imagine a world where a musician’s performance peaks not in sobriety, but in the haze of intoxication. That’s exactly what Tim Renwick observed while working with the legendary Eric Clapton. But this is just one of the many fascinating tales Renwick shares from his decades-long career as a session guitarist, rubbing shoulders with icons like David Bowie, Al Stewart, and more. And this is the part most people miss—how close he came to becoming a Spider From Mars, Bowie’s iconic backing band.
‘I was almost a Spider From Mars,’ Renwick reveals in an interview with Guitar Player. After contributing to Bowie’s Space Oddity album in 1969, he was in the running to join the Man Who Sold the World sessions. But fate had other plans, and Bowie chose Mick Ronson instead. Was this a missed opportunity, or a blessing in disguise? Renwick reflects, ‘David and Mick were a perfect unit, both musically and personally. It just wasn’t meant to be.’
Instead, Renwick’s career took a different path, leading him to become one of the most sought-after session guitarists of his time. From Elton John to Mike Oldfield, and even Pink Floyd, his resume reads like a who’s who of rock history. But here’s where it gets controversial: Renwick’s work with Eric Clapton on the Behind the Sun tour in 1985 revealed a side of Clapton that few knew—his performances were sharper, more inspired, when he’d had a few drinks. ‘It’s almost like the alcohol freed him,’ Renwick notes. ‘But it was a double-edged sword, taking a toll on his health.’
Let’s rewind to the Bowie years. Recording Space Oddity at Trident Studios, Renwick recalls Bowie’s studio nerves. ‘He was easy to work with but visibly anxious,’ he says. Later, Renwick’s band, Junior’s Eyes, backed Bowie on a Scottish tour. The audience was baffled—they knew Bowie as a pop singer, not the avant-garde artist he was becoming. ‘It was ahead of its time,’ Renwick adds. ‘People didn’t fully grasp his genius yet.’
Fast forward to the 1970s, and Renwick found himself touring America with Al Stewart, a ‘nice chap’ with a peculiar habit—losing his voice mid-tour. ‘He’d hit a note, and it would turn into this high squeak,’ Renwick laughs. ‘We’d take days off, turning the tour into a road trip across America.’ On Stewart’s hit Year of the Cat, Renwick crafted both the acoustic and electric guitar solos, seamlessly blending them to build intensity. Was this his most iconic contribution? Or just one of many?
Working with Clapton was a masterclass in spontaneity. ‘Eric would run a song twice, max,’ Renwick recalls. ‘He’d say, ‘Just play what you feel, mate.’ It was liberating.’ Yet, Clapton’s struggles with alcohol were evident. Does talent excuse personal flaws? Or should we separate the art from the artist? Renwick leaves us with a thought-provoking question: ‘People criticize Eric, but his legacy is undeniable. How do we reconcile the two?’
From nearly becoming a Spider From Mars to witnessing Clapton’s paradoxical brilliance, Tim Renwick’s journey is a testament to the complexities of the music world. What’s your take? Can an artist’s personal struggles enhance their art, or is it a dangerous myth? Share your thoughts in the comments—let’s spark a conversation!
