Photo by Pamela Littky |
In my humble opinion, of course.
Thompson is an obscure cult artist, but perhaps one of the
best-known of the lot. He has become the poster child for artists who have
spent years or decades creating a wonderful body of work, but don’t have even a
small fraction of the name recognition of Taylor Swift, Bruce Springsteen or
Prince.
Over a career that has lasted nearly five decades, Thompson
has made between 40 and 50 albums, either by himself, with former wife Linda,
or with British folk-rock band Fairport Convention. His extensive body of songs
and recordings compares favorably to those of Bruce Springsteen, Neil Young,
and Paul Simon. But at concerts he cracks dry jokes about how poorly some of
his albums have sold. He was named the 19th best guitarist ever in a
list compiled by Rolling Stone Magazine.
His songs are recorded by other
artists such as David Byrne, Bonnie Raitt, Alison Krauss, Elvis Costello, and
bluegrass senior statesman Del McCoury. These cover versions get much more
attention than Thompson’s own (although Thompson’s versions are arguably every
bit as good).
Although mass popularity has eluded him, Thompson has received
recognition for his musical accomplishments. He’s received a lifetime
achievement award from the BBC, named Office of the Order of the British
Empire, honorary doctorates, and more. No
Grammy let, but he has been nominated.
At age 65, he still writes new music and releases albums
every couple years. He tours almost constantly.
Describing Richard Thompson and his music is no easy feat.
He’s a native Londoner who has lived in Los Angeles for the last 30 years. He’s
a Sufi Muslim, and close listening reveals how his faith sometimes informs his
music. The building blocks of his music come not from the blues, like so many
others in the rock and folk rock idioms, but from traditional Scottish and
British bagpipe and fiddle tunes, airs and ballads. A listener might also pick
up smatterings of 1930s jazz, Middle Eastern, and African sources as well as
country-and-western twang.
But his songs are no
dry lesson in ethnic musicology. They are a distinctive, highly personal blend
of all the sources listed above. Thompson’s lyrics can be tender or cutting,
full of dry humor, sly humor, dark humor, sarcasm, desperation, and longing.
Then there’s the guitar playing. It is like none other. For
my money, rating him as the 19th best player ever is under-valuing
his prowess. Thompson is equally skilled and daring on electric and acoustic
guitar. He never shows off; every note, chord, arpeggio, harmonic, and bent
string is played in the service of the song. On electric, he can shift from
playing fills and chords during a verse into a screaming solo that pushes the
bounds of improvisation. Imagine the ghost of Jimi Hendrix playing a bagpipe,
distorted, through an amplifier, and you’re approaching the effect of a vintage
Thompson electric solo.
When Thompson picks his acoustic guitar, you catch yourself
looking for whoever is playing the second or third instruments. But it’s him,
solo.
I bought my first Richard Thompson album when I was 21 years
old or so. FYI, that was a bit more than 30 years ago. The first time I
listened, it sounded too … different and I put it back on the pile. I tried to
sell it at the local used record shop, but nobody would pay a quarter for it. A
year later, I pulled it off the shelf one rainy day, put it on the platter, and
my ears were opened.
But enough. Just listen:
Vincent Black Lightning:
Can’t Win (electric guitar, with band):
Dimming of the Day with Linda, 1982:
Dimming of the Day with Linda, 1982:
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