It is well known that folk music, at least Anglo-Saxon folk, has often been a family affair. This phenomenon began at the dawn of its history with the so-called singing families, who guarded and handed down the tradition from generation to generation, and continued until the sixties and seventies when, in the midst of the folk revival, the concept was ‘enlarged’ in a community way. Among the examples of the oldest singing families, we can only cite that of Watersons, while among those declined – as mentioned above – in a “community” way, the first thought goes without any doubts to that of Fairport Convention, which has been able to transcend the dimension of “band” with a community spirit kept alive and celebrated almost annually (pandemic permitting), in comings and goings of old and new members, during the festival of Cropredy. A phenomenon akin to the new folk communities of the 1960s, it was one that saw several artists involve their partners in an artistic as well as a life partnership. Examples include John Martyn, who formed a duo with his then partner Beverley, or Bert Jansch with his future wife Loren Auerbach. But surely the most well-known union is that of Richard Thompson and Linda Peters. Their relationship started at the beginning of the 70s and culminated in their marriage in 1972. In the meantime, Richard had left Fairport and, after a not very well-received solo album, had spent his time mainly in the service of others. He decided to start again with his family under the name Richard & Linda Thompson, writing and singing with Linda.
In 1974, the couple released their first album ‘I want to see the bright lights tonight. It is one of the milestones of British folk-rock and beyond, and one of its strengths is that it is made up only of original songs, without the inclusion of traditional ones. Songs which, while drawing on tradition, are absolutely in tune with their own times. From a musical point of view, the arrangements combine Thompson’s guitar (which goes from the ferocity of distortion to despair, passing through moments of pure sweetness) and a pure rock rhythm section with a plethora of popular instruments such as the harmonium and dulcimer or John Kirkpatrick‘s accordion and concertina, and finally Richard Harvey‘s krumhorn (a renaissance instrument with a characteristic nasal sound, which also characterizes Harvey’s mother group, Gryphon, a band that mixes folk, prog and renaissance music in a highly original way). From a textual and atmospheric point of view, the record seems on the one hand to sanction the end of the libertarian dream of the 1960s, long cultivated by the folk revival scene (in one song Linda sings “my dreams have withered and died”), and on the other hand, it seems to anticipate the coming of the social butchery of the Thatcher era.
Between stories of drunks, street life, and marginalization, the stories are told with Richard’s classic cynical register of typically British dark humor. Then there is the sacrifice in the heartfelt ballad of ‘Calvary Cross’ (which will become one of Richard’s live piece de resistance) and one of the most pessimistic songs ever written: ‘End of the Rainbow’ is a kind of anti-fable in which a child is warned that there is nothing at the end of the rainbow and that there is no reason to grow up. Then there is the frustration of the working class, who live with the fatigue and emptiness of everyday life and overcome it by partying, dancing, and drinking themselves into oblivion (the title track) or toasting the new year, knowing that nothing will change after all (‘We sing Hallelujah‘). Thompson’s classic acidic voice, but especially Peters’, more austere and sharper than the classic silky folk women’s vocals, interpret all these moods in a very effective and unforgettable way.
At the end of the album the couple place a peculiar track, ‘The Great Valerio’, which replaces the harsh and realistic sound of the rest of the album with a dreamlike atmosphere. Introduced by a suspended and oblique arpeggio typical of Thompson (think for example of “Hope you like the new me“ on “Mock Tudor” in ’99), the song tells of the performance of a tightrope walker, the great Valerio. The point of view is that of an audience member who, through Linda’s measured voice, describes his feelings at the sight of this man who defies death and fights for life walking on a rope without any protection.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nXYi_jHYZZo
It is a simple but effective insight, a metaphor that may perhaps seem all too obvious, but which Richard manages to develop in an original and somewhat cryptic way.
The first interpretation that comes to mind cannot but lead the listener to identify with the protagonist: Valerio’s challenge seems to be the one that engages every life, inevitably faced without certainties and without a safety net.
“Who will help the tightrope walker/when he tumbles to the net?” asks the protagonist, implying the theme of existential loneliness that betrays a pessimistic point of view that permeates the tone of the whole record.
But are we really alone? And what about love? Richard answers this question through Linda’s voice, warning us not to consider this feeling a solid rock on which to cling to, because ‘our heart changes like the seasons and we are all acrobats of love’.
A statement that, although in keeping with the nihilistic vision of the album, highlights a conception of love as a vital form precisely because it changes.
Lastly, there is the audience: an audience that eagerly watches the artist but which, in the end, gives the impression of wanting the spectacle of a fall rather than the success of the undertaking…
Whatever the feelings of the spectators are, one thing is clear: at the end of the song we do not know whether or not the great Valerio has succeeded in his challenge.
In fact – as Linda sings – the rope seems “hung from cloud to cloud” as if the finish line did not really exist and the tightrope walker’s destiny was that, sooner or later, of the inevitable and natural fall.
And perhaps the “moral” is precisely this: we are all suspended on a wire, alone and at the mercy of the wind, looking for a goal that does not exist.
From a musical point of view, the song reflects this open ending: the sung section rests entirely on the acoustic guitar and Thompson’s sublime interpretation, but at the end of the sung section, the main arpeggio is abandoned and Richard draws a deliberately unresolved melody, made up of scattered notes and marked by “metronomic” picks on the lowest string that simulates an existential clock.
The seemingly endless rope seems to continue beyond the end of the album.
All that remains for us, then, is to keep our eyes stuck to the suspended line and watch the next steps of the couple.
* * *
After an album so dense with humanity and suffering (whatever Thompson himself may say about it, who claims that the humor of his lyrics is often not sufficiently understood) it’s not surprising that the next step is therefore a move to lighten up. In fact, after a tour, which also involved former Fairport Convention bandmate Simon Nicol, the duo released “Hokey Pokey” in ’75; an album that, both musically and lyrically (this time Thompson’s humour is more evident), proved to be less “heavy”, representing a much-needed breath of fresh air after the apnoea of “Bright Lights”. The result is an enjoyable work, but certainly less consistent than the debut.
The same year saw the release of “Pour down like silver”: the cover and the back cover show Richard and Linda wearing turbans and veils respectively. It turns out that in ’74, between the recording and the release of “I want to see the Bright Light Tonight”, the couple had moved to a Sufi community and converted to Islam. This, then, was Richard and Linda’s next step on the tightrope: moving in the direction of mysticism and religion to face the fear of falling into the void. A choice that will prove to be thoughtful and lasting, at least for Richard who, to this day, professes to be a Muslim. We don’t know if it was the spiritual choice or the life choice that revived the couple, but in any case, the album is an excellent work that, even if it doesn’t reach the very high quality of the debut, still boasts excellent peaks such as the epic “Night comes in“ and the ballads “Beat the retreat“ and “Dimming of the day/Darghai“.
After the album’s release, the couple retired from the world of music, continuing their journey within the Sufi commune. In 1976 the rope bends into a knot with the birth of little Teddy. Gradually Richard regained contact with the music world, first as a backing guitarist and then with a failed recording attempt under the direction of Joe Boyd. After the abandonment of the commune and the return to the old house, two new records by the couple finally arrived: “First Light” in ’78 and “Sunnyvista” in ’79. They are two decent albums but nothing more; the class is obviously unchanged, but it seems to lack that “quid” that had made immortal “I want to see a Bright Lights Tonight” and fully successful “Pour down like silver”.
In the meantime, the ’80s arrived and the rope became tighter and tighter, as did the relationship between Richard and Linda. In 1982, “Shoot out the lights”, produced by Joe Boyd, was released, bringing the duo back to the top. And it does so through the most classic of break-up albums, (i.e. an album that tells the end of a story like ‘Blood On The Tracks’). Be careful, though, because it is a rather atypical break up album if we consider that at the time of recording the couple had not yet separated and that the songs that make up the setlist had already been written for two years, being part of a project that was first sketched out but then abandoned by Richard.
It is impossible to say whether the songs represented an unconscious omen or were born of existing symptoms, but the sound of the album, decidedly more rock and less folk, is that of a tightrope finally being broken. The circle seems to be closing, the atmosphere is as gloomy as on the debut, but there is no trace of black humor and the lyrics seem to address only the couple themselves. The title is (I apologize for the pun) enlightening: if before the desire was to see the bright lights, now they just want to shoot them out.
The most evident sign of the “equal and opposite” nature of the work is the ballad “Walking on a wire”, where the metaphor of the “blade runner” returns, the wire on which we hang, pardon me, on which we walk.
But this time the ending is written:
I’m walking on a wire
And I’m falling
The acrobats of love are falling; they no longer know which way the wind is blowing and they feel the pull of gravity, their own and that of their partner. The lyrics are full of bitterness and it is hard to imagine how a couple who are still together can interpret such words without feeling the weight of it.
We do not know how autobiographical the text is, but the fact that Richard is the author and Linda the performer makes the words seem completely interchangeable: the tightrope walker is falling, but the accusations he/she makes against the other are in fact also addressed to himself/herself in a pitiless game of mirrors. At the end of the day, it is the recognition that the failure is of both and the fall is simultaneous.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7o3h7eyVRp8
There is also an explicit reference to some verses of “The Great Valerio” (“I’m your friend until you use me/And then be sure I won’t be there”), when Linda sings “Don’t use me endlessly/It’s too long, it’s too long to myself”, which seems to confirm that we really have reached the end of this suspended path.
Musically, too, the song seems like a disillusioned and realistic version of “The Great Valerio”: the guitar, resting on a dry drum beat, has a more material sound with the vibrato typical of Thompson’s style to give drama but, above all, there is Linda’s voice, at first tired and almost aseptic, and then so heartfelt (doubled by Richard’s choruses) that would break the heart of a statue. Richard’s brief, agonizing solo seals a dramatic masterpiece.
As we said, “Shoot out the lights” concludes the pair’s discography in the best possible way and must be considered the band’s second masterpiece. Asking which one of the two is the best is a bit like asking if you love your mum or your dad more (just to stay within the couple metaphor). But above all, it makes little sense because, even if we don’t know how voluntary or unconscious the link is, the two records give the impression of being intimately intertwined with each other.
In short, the rope has been broken and one might think that the thread we were following is no longer there; but the strings, even if broken, can be reattached. During the recording of the album Linda was pregnant and, although the couple officially split up, in 1983 Kami was born and another small but tenacious knot once again tightened the rope, which once again stretched the sky from cloud to cloud.
Linda and Richard once again put one foot ahead of the other but separately; each at their own pace and with their own balance.
Both will remarry and have other children: Richard will continue his recording career with solo albums and excellent collaborations, while Linda will almost completely abandon the music scene with only a few sporadic releases.
But in their destiny, there are those two knots in the rope that hold them together. With his son Teddy producing his mother’s work, Richard appears on two of Linda’s albums, 2002’s ‘Fashionably late’ and 2013’s ‘Won’t be long now’. The two former partners even performed together in a tribute to Kate McGarrigle in 2010 during the Meltdown festival, which Richard himself curated.
The high point, however, came in 2014 when, again at Teddy’s instigation, all the members of the family reunited under the “Thompson” moniker, releasing an album with the simple but explanatory name ‘Family’: it featured Richard and Linda, Teddy and Kami with her husband, as well as Jack, son of Richard’s second marriage, and Zak Hobbs, grandson of ‘grandma’ Linda (sons of Richard and Linda). It doesn’t matter that the album doesn’t go beyond being cute, because it represents a moment of extraordinary importance.
We started with the singing families and the folk-rock couples, and once again Richard and Linda close the circle, this time together with their descendants: in their own way, they succeed in embodying this typical English folk tradition, where not only is the art handed down from generation to generation, but it constitutes a rite that is celebrated together. Of course, times and customs have changed and the Thompson ‘extended family’ does not represent the rural families of the past where unity was often a forced or cultural choice. The Thompsons, in their ‘separate unity’, manage to renew the folk tradition by synthesizing it with the community aspect inherited from the 1960s, mentioned at the beginning. We do not know what unites Richard and Linda: they do not love each other anymore but maybe they still care about each other, maybe they respect each other, maybe they tolerate each other or simply hate each other but they put on a good face for their children and grandchildren.
The impression they give to the outside world, however, is that they are aware of being united forever by that thread, now taut, now loose, broken but then reattached, and that in art finds its celebration and a perfect testimony to human fallibility; of the inevitable fall but also of the courage to get back up, drawing strength from one’s affections and learning from the past.
