“A songwriter’s songwriter” is one of those terms that inspires near-disgust from many in the music community, simply for its overuse. Clichés are usually true, at least at their core, but even the truest — like this one — suffer significantly from the prevalence (and often casualness) with which they’re applied.
Still, disclaimer aside, Richard Thompson is as much “a songwriter’s songwriter” as anybody. While he has never sold significant numbers of albums, his name and craft garner the utmost respect from his peers and followers. Apart from being a songwriter of the very highest order, Thompson is also one of the most gifted guitarists currently working, a player whose style is endlessly listenable and whose ability is often literally unbelievable. Richard Thompson and his band perform at the Barrymore Theatre Friday, April 25.
Three decades in, the products of Thompson’s long career are quickly becoming too voluminous to be done justice in a brief preview. He gained his first renown in the germinal English folk group Fairport Convention and later made a series of classic albums with then-wife Linda, whose scary-angel voice perfectly complemented Richard’s songs of gloom and desperation.
Although Thompson’s personality is engagingly humorous, with his solo acoustic shows being a particularly good vehicle for his amusingly wry commentary, the songs that populate his albums — particularly these early ones — are usually some variety of dire and dark, where even the titles (“Wall Of Death,” “Down Where The Drunkards Roll,” “Shoot Out The Lights”) suggest the shadows and fog of life and love gone wrong. (Even songs of affirmation, like the statement-of-purpose punch of “Wall Of Death,” ring with foreboding.) As Richard and Linda’s relationship soured, this only became more acute.
Their 1982 masterpiece Shoot Out The Lights is populated with songs that tell the tale as beautifully and poignantly as it has ever been told: “Walking On A Wire,” in particular, captures the fragility of a no-win relationship that ain’t quite worth saving and ain’t quite bad enough to let go of. (This kind of emotional ambiguity, and lack of provided answers, has long been a hallmark of his best songwriting.)
Then again, not all was bleak. In better times, in fact, Richard wrote — and sang with Linda — “Dimming of the Day,” a supremely gorgeous love song with some of his best lyrics. (“You pull me like the moon pulls on the tide/You know just where I keep my better side.”)
There was also “I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight,” which — while a little bit too menacing to be considered simply a party anthem — captured the anxious energy of the post-work release as well as anyone has since Eddie Cochran and Chuck Berry.
Post-Linda, Thompson launched a solo career marked by intense highlights and very few setbacks. Songs, more than albums, leap out: “Turning Of The Tide,” a funny and vicious kiss-off to a previous relationship set to furious, guitar-driven rhythm; “Yankee Go Home,” one of the simplest, saddest and best anti-intervention anthems ever laid down; “I Feel So Good,” the cheery and melodic confessions of a celebratory psychopath; “Crawl Back Under My Stone,” a biting rebuff of a fair-weather friend (with one of Thompson’s best lyrics: “Did you count your fingers after shaking my hand?”); “How Will I Ever Be Simple Again,” a moving waltz in which Thompson offers a devastatingly simple deconstruction of wartime romance, and dozens more.
Then there’s “Vincent Black Lightning 1952.” In a career of songs that fans clutch as their favorites, “Vincent” is probably Richard Thompson’s most popular song. The recorded version, on the essential album Rumor and Sigh, finds Thompson relating the affecting tale of star-crossed lovers James and Red Molly, James a criminal and Red Molly a motorbike enthusiast with “red hair and black leather, my favorite color scheme,” over a background of rolling and piercing acoustic guitar.
The song is perfectly wrought, with powerful images and a stirring arrangement. It’s arguably his best lyric, best guitar performance and best vocal all wrapped into one, and he performs the song at nearly every show. It’s almost worth the price of admission in itself.
Thompson’s new album, The Old Kit Bag, will be released May 6. The album is already out in Europe, and the tracks that have made their way to U.S. listeners show the collection to be yet another set of solid, unique material. Thompson will almost assuredly perform songs from the record at his show, and, even in their infancy, his new songs tend to blossom in live performance; as good as some of the tracks on his last album (the masterful Mock Tudor) were, they really came to life only when they were performed on the subsequent tour. (The Madison stop on that tour, also at the Barrymore, was an electric evening that few are likely to forget.)
This show, too, is likely to be most memorable. Once again playing with his band, Thompson is known for extended, energetic shows that equally spotlight the favorites (nary a crowd fails to cheer for “Vincent Black Lightning,” and rightfully so) and the lesser-known gems. Any chance to see Richard Thompson is the opportunity to spend an evening with a true master of his craft, and should not be missed.
Richard Thompson plays at the Barrymore Theatre with Lynn Miles Friday, April 25 at 8 p.m. Advance tickets are $22.
