richard thompson

There’s a cult of Richard Thompson among folks in my nebishy demographic. And as a knee-jerk contrarian – meaning, essentially, that I just wanna be different from the geeky herd – I’m uneasy with the cult. But I think I have good reasons for my demurral in this instance. Richard Thompson is not breathtakingly brilliant, which is fine. He’s very good, and he’s managed to remain remarkably consistent over 45 years or so of making music. But, whether it’s his time in Fairport Convention, or the albums he recorded with his (now ex-) wife, Linda, or the scores of records he’s made since then, none of it is stuff I have to have in my collection.  I like it a lot, but it’s not essential listening. (I don’t limit myself to essential listening, btw). Thompson’s music doesn’t stay with me for days afterwards. In fact, much of Thompson’s charm comes from his being so unflashy and understated. His guitar playing is first-rate. He gets a syrupy Stratocaster tone that will never fail to soothe the savage beast.  But the playing is not at all ostentatious. Tasteful (but not tasty) is how I would describe it. And over the arc of his career, he’s also developed into a very good vocalist…

None of these aspects of Thompson’s music are worthy of a cult.  And I’m pretty sure that the guy doesn’t even want a cult following. He’s always struck me as being reserved/dour/a tad misanthropic, and the subtlety of his music doesn’t suggest a guy who’d be comfortable with nerdy dudes worshipping him. I hesitate to say that he’s middlebrow, but I think it’s an apt description, even if it often has a negative connotation. I for one have a considerable amount of space in my life for things middlebrow. I liked Spielberg’s Lincoln. I voted for Obama.  I tend to spend about $12 on a bottle of wine.  I think Business Class upgrades are worth the money. I’m Mac as opposed to PC because PCs are for people who have bad taste and don't have college degrees.  I still fondly think of baseball as a pastoral game, even though the stadiums these days boom with awful noise designed to beat every last shred of attention span out of the public. I read authors like Jonathan Franzen, and I skim the New Yorker (but not the New York Review of Books) in the waiting room at my shrink’s office. I listen to NPR (though it's sheer milquetoastness makes me wanna do stuff like this). I dig John Stewart. I only have one Republican friend, and he gets a pass because he’s 70+ years old.  I use terms like “African American” and “LGBT”.  And I enjoy listening to Richard Thompson.  Until just now, I never realized the extent to which I’m the embodiment of parody…