1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die: 308. Richard and Linda Thompson – I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight (1974)

 

I had absolutely no idea what genre to expect from this album; I’d not heard of the artists, and the cover gave no hints. What a pleasant surprise, then, to get some contemporary British folk. 

The Thompsons sing mostly downbeat tunes of loneliness, poverty and loss, but without getting depressing about it (somehow). Mostly because the music is so beautiful. Linda Thompson doesn’t have the pure vocal of Sandy Denny or Jacqui McShee, but she has a good folk voice and the slight edge to it makes the songs where she takes lead vocal to be that much more emotionally honest. This is especially true for the wistful Withered and Died, and the album closer The Great Valerio about a mysterious and mystical figure. On most of the tracks the Thompsons sing harmony and, while not the lush harmonies of Crosby, Stills, and Nash, work really well for British Folk. 

The songs are largely sparsely arranged, vocals and guitar, but the Thompsons are not afraid of using electrified instruments. Nonetheless, traditional instruments feature throughout, especially in the opening track When I Get To The Border, which closes with solos from mandolin, tin whistle, accordion, and krummhorn - a raspy, Renaissance-era woodwind instrument that sounds a little like a snake-charmer pipe (the pungi). 

I get bits of other folk figures throughout this album. The twinned voices recall the work of Sandra Kerr and John Faulkner in the Bagpuss songs, the social commentary brings to mind Vin Garbutt, I even got a touch of Spiers and Boden (only to find that Bellowhead have done a cover of I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight). It’s no surprise, the folk world tends to eat itself like a big Ouroborous (second mention in two albums...). The appearance on Bright Lights by a silver band is reminiscent of the Barnsley Nightingale, Kate Rusby. 

I lambasted Robert Christgau last time for trying too hard. His review for this one (at least the quote that makes it to Wikipedia) is that “[they] don't sentimentalize about time gone—they simply encompass it in an endless present”. Which is so much less pretentious. Tells you what you need to know, yet is neatly poetic at the same time. But what does that make a person who critiques a critic? 

The album, though: Yes. Delicious.