Richard Thompson

Richard John Thompson grew up in a family of accomplished musicians and music lovers, torn - in his listening habits and his musical education - between the tradition of British music and the pulse of rock'n'roll coming from across the Atlantic. When, in 1966, Thompson joined the two mates Ashley Hutchings and Simon Nicol strumming away in an attic in Muswell Hill, he played a decisive part in the birth of one of the most beloved names in British folk-rock, Fairport Convention. His rise left an indelible mark on the band's early maturity, with original creations like "Meet On The Ledge," "No Man's Land," and above all the songs he wrote for their most cherished albums, "Unhalfbricking" (1969) and "Liege & Lief" (1969), among them "Genesis Hall" and "Farewell Farewell," a small blueprint for his future psalm-like songs.

Richard later ended that adventure on good terms with his former bandmates, and it was precisely these people (especially Denny and Hutchings, along with a string of well-regarded folk musicians) who pushed and helped him through the recording of his debut solo album, "Henry The Human Fly" (1972), a record that, tellingly, picks up and advances the ideas of the early Fairport, while lending them poise, clarity, and even a notable touch of eccentricity. The songwriter's subsequent evolution is already all there in embryo, not least one of the true turning points of his career: Linda Peters.

Linda is an accomplished folk singer who had been doing the rounds of the clubs since 1966 thanks to her valuable friendships with members of Fairport, first and foremost Sandy Denny herself.

When, three years later, Richard and Linda meet for the first time, the two of them strike up the most classic kind of personal and artistic chemistry. Linda thus becomes part of the recording sessions for "Henry The Human Fly," and their romantic relationship turns into marriage shortly after the album's release. Richard has a clear vision: to set up a proper going concern with the newly-minted Mrs. Thompson, elevating her from mere backing vocalist to counter-melody, if not to lead voice and, indeed, true artistic soul.

Linda's contribution is in fact decisive to the artist's aesthetic; her spontaneous, innate voice - crystalline, emotional, and faintly medieval - fills in perfectly the gaps left by Richard's singing, not merely offering a new take on the vocal harmonies already fashionable in pop music or folk singing, but bringing fresh, naturalistic emotional shadings.

The result is "I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight," a work possessing a sacred air and an almost symphonic, choral breadth, as if it were a cantata for two.

Linda's role in the unfolding of the songs that make up the album carries a crystal-clear meaning, as though she were the muse bestowing the most precious of sorrows. It is wide open and spelled out in the slow, funereal "Withered And Died," with the opalescent shimmer of the accordion. She then guides the old-style acoustic sound of "Down Where The Drunkards Roll," though transfigured by a heavy calm and a supernatural grace. The acoustic wonder of "Has He Got A Friend For Me" then allows her to grow vocally adventurous, suddenly breaking into tears, peaks of emotion and grief.

These purest of psalms have some delightful counterpoints of enthusiasm and release, though still fleeting and illusory. The title track "I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight" is a kind of optimistic flip side (though always with a hint of supplication lurking around the corner), underscored even by overdubbed vocals and a flourish of baroque fanfares. The shining unison of the two spouses in "When I Get To The Border" spills over into the timbres of folk dances, but laid out like a chamber sonata, and the closing solos are gentle exchanges of tone, a world away from the turbulence of acid-rock jams. "The Little Beggar Girl," an irresistible jig, once again slowed down until it feels like a monastery prayer, is one of the most radiant and harmonious examples of folk-rock, with Linda managing to turn herself into faun and sprite. Even "We Sing Hallelujah," a pub-style choral singalong, dons a breathtaking austerity.

The process set in motion by Linda remains the main backbone of the record, as shown by "The Calvary Cross," a gospel number with a solemn tread that here and there breathes eternity and swells into grandiose visions, and the spine-chilling sadness also infects Richard's tenor in the spectral desolation of "The End Of The Rainbow." This process grows thinner and thinner until "The Great Valerio," where she is left alone with the faint, blurred chiaroscuro of her husband's guitar.

For someone who's almost a novice, Linda dominates the album. Her partner Richard, perfectly attuned to her yearning, desperate, floating tone, steps back to support her whenever he's not singing: his guitar turns transcendental, and although once again surrounded by other instruments, it establishes a clearer hierarchy compared to the genre's earliest manifestations, his Fairport days and his first “Henry”. This isn't a divided album - quite the opposite: this interwoven male-female modulation adds real value to its tone, at once grand and humble. And its transcendence, ahead of the Sufi calling that would find fullest expression in works like “Pour Down Like Silver” (1975), already contains the seeds of that important turn - if anything, the feeling here is perhaps even more perfectly heartfelt, as shown by songs that followed soon after (the marvellous “A Heart Needs A Home” on the lesser, more forceful “Hokey Pokey”). Its notes of gloom, radiating an enchanted cosmic pessimism, would go on to reshape the entire British folk-rock movement. Recorded in a rush on a limited budget, like so many other masterpieces of the era. Recently remastered with bonus tracks.

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30/08/2015