Richard and Linda Thompson: I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight

My oh my, many apologies for the lack of an update recently. In addition to searching for a full-time job, I’ve been teaching myself Dreamweaver and writing my Elvis Costello book (which has been temporarily renamed, now to This Is A Revolution Of The Mind, a working title for the Imperial Bedroom album), so I haven’t had a whole lot of time recently to even think about this shabby little blog. (Incidentally, there’s a good chance that this site will be moving again at some point … my recent desire to become well-versed in web design means that I might make my own website for this thing, as opposed to being “restricted” to Blogger’s designs. We’ll see.)

Anyway, I have been purchasing some new music lately, which isn’t all that good an idea with my dwindling finances and an irregular paycheck, but I figure what the hey. While walking around Philadelphia a few days ago with my good friend Chelsea, we happened upon a record store called AKA Music. (Actually, “happened upon” isn’t all that accurate: one of my former coworkers, Sean [who has his own infinitely-better-than-mine music review blog here] had told me about AKA a few years ago, and I never had the opportunity to find it until Chelsea visited. Because I know she loves music too, I figured this would be a good way to spend some time … and money.) The selection was very impressive; I actively searched out Richard and Linda Thompson’s I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight and Floratone’s eponymous album, and Chelsea recommended I purchase the Jayhawks’ Rainy Day Music. So it was a day of discovery, that’s for sure.

I had been meaning to get into the Thompsons for quite some time, ever since I heard Elvis Costello’s renditions of ‘Withered And Died’ and ‘End Of The Rainbow’. Figuring that if his versions were as beautiful and haunting as the Thompsons’s, I knew I’d be in for a real treat; instead of buying the album off iTunes, which I don’t really do all that much anymore (I like to hold the music in my hands while I’m listening to it), I went in search of it. Sure, I could have bought it on Amazon (which I used recently for three Springsteen purchases), but I remembered the halcyon days of going into a record store and looking through the stacks of CDs to find what I wanted … and I figured that this was the better way to discover the Thompsons’s music.

Some background on this duo would probably benefit you, the reader, as it did me. Richard was formerly a member of Fairport Convention (the most prominent member of which, Sandy Denny, sang additional vocals on Led Zeppelin’s ‘The Battle Of Evermore’, though she died in 1978 of a brain hemorrhage) and branched out on his own in 1972, releasing the critically savaged Henry The Human Fly. He has also become known as one of the most influential electric guitarists from Britain, though he was obviously overshadowed by the more high profile likes of Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page, Jeff Beck, and so on. The year before, he had met and worked with Linda Peters; a relationship developed, and they married not too soon after. Linda, a stunning vocalist in her own right, became not only Richard’s wife but musical partner, too; Bright Lights Tonight was the first of a handful of albums the two recorded together, though the partnership – romantic, musical, and business – dissolved in 1982 after a lengthy tour and Richard’s attraction to another woman.

So. With that in mind, Bright Lights Tonight should sound like a joyous celebration of life and love, of matrimony and domesticity, much like what Paul and Linda McCartney were putting out at the time, right? Well, no. Richard, who wrote the entirety of the album, focused more on the bleak aspects of life; the early 1970s apparently held very few reasons to be cheerful, and he centered his energies on the darker sides of existence and emotions; while there are moments of jubilation on the album, it’s mostly made up of minor key ballads. About half of the songs are sung by Richard, with the other half voiced by Linda, and the difference is amazing: there’s a frailty in Richard’s delivery, while Linda sings much more forcefully and melodically. Often, too, the somber lyrics are married to occasionally jaunty backings, as on opener ‘When I Get To The Border’, which has ringing acoustic guitars, a plinky mandolin, and some truly arresting Celtic and brass instruments. ‘The Calvary Cross’ is mythical and mystical, with a droning guitar intro and shimmering percussion, before kicking into a mid-tempo piano-based ballad. (A wonderful 10-minute live version appears as a bonus track on the CD, along with live versions of the title track and Buck Owen’s ‘Together Again’.)

‘Withered And Died’ and ‘End Of The Rainbow’, the two songs I was already familiar with through Elvis Costello’s performances, are the absolute highlights of the album, both sung by Linda and all the better for it. You can tell that Linda wasn’t just along for the ride, much like Paul or John and their own spouses; her delivery on these two songs comes close to invoking tears, stirring emotions in me deep down that I didn’t even know existed. Thankfully, the title track follows shortly after the former, and while it’s another Linda-sung song, it’s one of the few upbeat songs on the album, with an infectious chorus that any bar hopper looking for a good time on a Friday night could remember. (Little coincidence that another haunting ballad, ‘Down Where The Drunkards Roll’, rubs elbows with this song.)

‘We’ll Sing Hallelujah’ has an almost ebullient, Scottish feel to it, with Richard singing in a very pronounced Glaswegian accent, while ‘Has He Got A Friend For Me’ is a lament sung by Linda over another lonely Saturday night. The album ends on a melancholy downer with ‘The Great Valerio’, a lengthy, minor key ballad, sparsely performed by Richard on acoustic guitar and a somber lead vocal from Linda. Using tightrope walking as a metaphor for putting trust in relationships, and the tumbling of acrobats as equivalent to the uncertainties of love, it ends the album more with a question mark than with a full stop. Such is the complexities of Richard’s lyrics: they are simultaneously full of hope and hopeless … much like life. Honesty in verse is something that few lyricists have ever been able to master, but by bypassing oblique imagery and complex wordplay, Richard gets to the heart of the matter, and can express in one line what many musicians fail to do so in an entire album. On top of that, he’s a damn good guitarist, too.

Essential listening: all of it. Yes, really.