Album Review: Richard Thompson
Published 12:00 am Friday, June 26, 2015
- Richard Thompson, "Still"
Richard Thompson
“STILL”
Fantasy Records
On the closing track of his new album, “Still,” Richard Thompson sings about his youthful obsession. He claims that he wouldn’t go out on Saturday nights because he had to practice guitar. It’s all done tongue in cheek, but there’s also deeper intention.
Thompson is a fan first, and this modern master gives some of his inspirations their due in “Guitar Heroes,” the seven-minute showcase that caps his sixteenth studio album. He plays in the style of each master who mentored him long-distance, expertly echoing the jazzy inflections of Django Reinhardt, the trills of Les Paul, the bounce of Chuck Berry, the Southern authority of James Burton, the treble-soaked surf of the Shadows. Then he offers a humble salute: “I still don’t know how my heroes did it.” The homage closes with Thompson soloing, and it deftly demonstrates what the student has learned and how far he’s gone.
Recorded in Chicago with Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy as producer, “Still” dials down some of the guitar ferocity that characterized Thompson’s two previous releases, “Electric” (2013) and “Dream Attic” (2010). Tweedy’s primary virtue as a producer is to remain almost invisible, to clear out as much clutter as possible so the music can flourish.
The guitar playing remains brilliant, but it is tighter, dropping into narrow spaces between verses to serve as commentary or punctuation on what Thompson has just sung. Lustrous acoustic finger-picking on “Josephine” acts as both counterpoint to the voice and an extension of it. Rock chords splinter into bursts of tumbling, spiraling notes on “Long John Silver.”
The penultimate track, “Dungeons for Eyes,” is a haunted vision of evil and the narrator’s inability to forgive. In that context, the decision to close the album with “Guitar Heroes” hardly sounds like the fun toss-off it might initially suggest. Instead, it explains where a man of conflicted faith has found his solace ever since he was a teenager woodshedding with his guitar on Saturday nights.
— Greg Cot,
Chicago Tribune