Amid Willie Weeks’ fluid upright bass, Jim Keltner’s expressive brush strokes and the lush strings of the London Session Orchestra, Clapton turns in a husky, sensual vocal, so warm that it could melt the frostiest of hearts.

Irving Berlin, the Dean of American Songwriters, might not have envisioned an electric guitar solo when he penned this infectious ballad in 1932, but Clapton’s playing, not to mention the rich, bell-like tone he coaxes from his six string, drips with lyricism.

Towards the end, the legendary Wynton Marsalis graces the song with a trumpet solo that is a marvel of phrasing and tonal invention. When the orchestra rises to meet both guitarist and trumpeteer, you’ll be swept off your feet as you trip the light fantastic.