Richard Thompson “Rumor and Sigh”
Richard Thompson has been so good for so long that it’s impossible to mark his prime. It’s been one continuous, decades-long peak. Precocious from the very start, he founded Fairport Convention at eighteen. He toured England, reworked Dylan and Cohen, sea shanties and Irish folk songs. He did session work for Nick Drake. He invented Irish Folk Rock. All before he was twenty. Who the fuck does that as a teenager? Seriously? Richard Thompson — that’s who.
More amazingly, he’s sustained that early prime for an entire career — decade seven now and counting. His highs are perhaps not as high as Dylan’s or Cohen’s. And even his masterpieces have their charming missteps. He definitely doesn’t have an “Astral Weeks” or a “Pink Moon.” But while his highs may not be as high, his consistent greatness is almost unprecedented. What is the “best” Richard Thompson album? Was it 1969s “Unhalfbricking” with Fairport? Was it 1974s “I Want to See the Bright Lights Tonight”? Was it 1982s “Shoot Out The Lights”? 1999s “Mock Tudor”? 2013s “Electric”? Or was it, as many would say, 1991s “Rumor and Sigh”?
It’s an impossible question. Richard Thompson may be the Henry Aaron of Rock and Roll. Aaron, who led the Braves to a World Series crown in 1957, and almost won the Triple Crown himself, was just 23 when he reached those heights. Almost fifteen years later, he would hit forty seven home runs and bat .327. In between, every year seemed like it could well be his best year. Like Hammerin’ Hank, Richard Thompson is defined by his consistency, durability and unerring craft.
He’s the rare artist who arrived fully formed and who appears immune to the damage of time. To the contrary, he seems more vital in middle age — more content, funnier and musically assured. I recall seeing him live, in 1994, when he was still performing most of “Rumor and Sigh” and “Mirror Blue.” I walked into the concert fully believing that Tom Verlaine was the most extraordinary guitarist I would ever hear live. I left convinced that, not only was I wrong, but that it wasn’t much of a debate. Thompson fronted a three piece but I swear there were four guitars playing somewhere, somehow. To this day, I don’t fully understand how he does the picking, the chords, the melodies and the solos. He was the consummate storyteller. His voice was deep and rich. That night, he was Henry Aaron and Babe Ruth.
Richard Thompson was forty-two when “Rumor and Sigh” was released. By that time, he was an esteemed heritage act. His audience was defined and sufficient enough to earn him free range at Capitol Records. He was also several records into a relationship with producer Mitchell Froom, who paired Thompson’s muscular Folk Rock with contemporary, if subtle, noise and ambiance. Thompson was perhaps too young for a victory lap, but was certainly deserving of a second (or third) coronation.
And while it might be hard to imagine now, in 1991 Richard Thompson was kind of “Alternative.” In the year before Grunge “broke” and a few years before Alt came to dominate the zeitgeist, Richard Thompson was perhaps the best alternative to mainstream Rock music. Kind of amazingly, “Rumor and Sigh” was nominated for a Grammy in the Alternative Rock category. Before Peal Jam and Nirvana, that’s how things worked.
“Rumor and Sigh” is a flex — fourteen songs and over sixty minutes. It’s also a reminder that, beyond his prodigious guitar talent, Richard Thompson is an extraordinary storyteller — among the finest in popular music. "1952 Vincent Black Lightning" gets most of the adulation from this album. The finger-picking is deft and beautiful. The story is poignant and evocative. You can see and feel the motorcycle. You can picture Molly and James. And he does all of this with just his guitar and voice. It’s a treasure.
But also, I don’t think it’s the best track on the album. “I Feel So Good” must rank among the most perfect pop songs ever written. It’s sly. It’s complex. It’s sophisticated. It’s cynical. But it is also concise and perfectly tuneful. It contains the soaring variety of Thompson’s vocals. Did I mention yet that RIchard Thompson can flat out sing? Well, he can. “I Feel So Good” — a song about a young ne’er do well who is dead set on fully mixing and fully experiencing love and trouble — is just a flawless, delirious three minutes of pop.
Across the hour, there’s plenty of the majestic Folk Rock that Richard Thompson had defined and that had come to define him. “I Misunderstood,” “Mystery Wind” and “You Dream Too Much” would rank among the best songs on any Richard Thompson record. He plays around with “traditional” British folk music on “Don't Sit On My Jimmy Shands" and “God Loves a Drunk.” And there are also surprises. “Grey Walls” rocks just the slightest bit heavier than you’re expecting. And, over fifty minutes in, Richard Thompson suddenly turns left, speeds up and conjures a Cowpunk sound that is equal parts X and the Old 97s. The album is perhaps only marred by its closer, “Psycho Street” — an unnecessary, intentionally tuneless experiment and an odd outlier in an otherwise monumental record.
Richard Thompson is seventy something today. He sounds almost exactly like he did when he was eighteen, which is pretty much how sounded when he was forty two. He entered full fledged and, more or less, has stayed intact. In the small club of artists who thrived into and out of middle age — Leonard Cohen and Tom Waits come to mind — none were as consistently excellent as Richard Thompson. I bet that, even at eighty years old, Henry Aaron could still flip his wrists and jack a sneaky 330 foot shot down the line and over the fence. Let’s reconvene in 2030 and see if Richard Thompson can do the same. Seems likely.