“While it's hard to begrudge the 60-year-old guitarist for finding a happy home after all these years, what is puzzling about this calm, comfortable album is that Clapton is equating domestic bliss with a glossy, consciously classy sound that's swept clean of dirt and grit, or even the blues. Consequently, Back Home is pitched halfway between the lite contemporary soul of Pilgrim and Clapton's time as a Michelob spokesman in the late '80s. Each track rides a tight, professional groove — sometimes a bluesy vamp, sometimes a reggae jam, usually something soulful but relaxed – and while instruments sometimes bubble up from the mix (sometimes it's Clapton's guitar, but just as often it's Billy Preston's organ, or occasionally a synth straight out of 1987), the emphasis is always on the smooth, shiny surface. Unlike such peers as Bob Dylan, Elton John, and the Rolling Stones who revitalized their recording careers with back-to-basics moves that stripped their music down to its essence, Clapton seems to harbor an aversion to what he built his reputation on, whether it was the lean, sinewy blues of the Yardbirds and Bluesbreakers or the psychedelic freak-outs of Cream, or even the rootsy rock he learned from Delaney & Bonnie in the '70s. Based on Back Home, it really does seem like he considers Journeyman ground zero for his solo career, but instead of replicating the well-balanced mix of rock, pop, and blues that made that record one of his best solo efforts, he settles into a tasteful adult pop sound that makes this record the ideal soundtrack to a pleasant Sunday afternoon at home with the family. Again, it's hard to begrudge Clapton his newfound domestic bliss, but it's just unfortunate that he equates family with blandness” (Erlewine).