I have seen Richard Thompson live more times than I can remember over the past three decades, but this is the first time he has ever considered performing a strip. Not, I should add, because he has hit a fork in the road and is exploring other tactics to bag attention, but rather because we find ourselves in the middle of a record-breaking British heatwave and there is not a single soul in this packed, elegant and acoustically superb theatre who have not got their mind on staying hydrated. For Richard, other than reaching for a towel between every song, this hot tub is bringing the extra challenge of needing to extensively tune his acoustic guitar ahead of each song. Again, I have seen him play a multitude of times (because Richard is always worth catching) and he normally conducts the tuning up in a way that the audience barely notice, simultaneously indulging in that endearingly diffident dialogue of his, but those strings do not like the heat too much and tonight it adds a layer of jeopardy. Richard rarely looks anything other than in absolute control but at one point, when his partner Zara Phillips had joined him onstage for some vocal harmonising, he throws his arms out wide with a look that says, “I’m just going to have to plough on through.” Which indeed he does and ultimately, the performer, situation and audience all come together and connect in a kind of musical defiance that, for a couple of hours at least, has us all forgetting how hot we are. And no, he did not resort to stripping, despite at one time suggesting, “it might have to be the trousers first.”  

The same intensity was also burning down on opening duo, Smith and Brewer. They are a perfect choice to share a bill with Richard Thompson, both can weave some intricate threads out of their guitars, their styles subtly different enough for one to be counterbalancing the other, a most pleasing blend. In terms of style, there are appealing Everly Brothers tones to both the set up and the influences, but they can play a wide range of inspirational roots from americana to folk and indeed, they could almost have stepped out of a Fairport Convention performance school. Even their appearance has an undeniable feel of Britishness, they look like a classic old comedy double act, Smith more pompous and aspirational and Brewer the hapless, clueless enthusiast. They are a serious proposition though (maybe the heat was making my brain a bit wavy too?) and took the opportunity to tout an impressive arsenal of songs to a crowd suitably aligned to their sound. Which is actually exactly the same thing as Richard Thompson is doing on this current tour. Admittedly he did play a couple of new songs from an album scheduled for release in October, but other than that this is a solo acoustic show where Thompson is playing songs from all corners of a near seven decade recording career. I have to say, I love these kinds of tours because, with a back catalogue like this, you are going to hear some wonderful essentials and a generous number of deep cuts.

Tonight, that repertoire was explored extensively and it struck a balance that surely satisfied both the casual and more obsessive fans of his music. The opening trio of ‘I Misunderstood,’ ‘Saving The Good Stuff For You’ and ‘Valerie’ (before which he joked about being responsible for artists using song titles that already exist) set a standard that was impressively maintained. There were the centrepiece classics long time audience members might expect; timeless folk masterpieces like ‘Beeswing’ and ‘1952 Vincent Black Lightning,’ that accomodate a platform to dazzle with his incredible guitar dexterity. Then lesser championed but no less worthy tunes such as ‘If I Could Live My Life Again’ off the lockdown period ‘Bloody Noses’ EP and ‘Walking The Long Miles Home,’ from 1999’s ‘Mock Tudor’ which I still argue is one of his greatest ever albums. Furthermore, I always delight in spotting a Thompson debutant or two in the crowd, observing them bowled over by that guitar playing then recalling my own similar reaction all those years ago. It is something close to awe as you recognise that unaccompanied, he is playing rhythm, a bass line and lead guitar riffs with just two hands and making it all sound so effortless. After taking a request for ‘Al Bowlly’s In Heaven’ Richard feels the urge to apologise for the absence of a band (“I said nine o’clock Heathrow, this can’t continue”) believing it better suited to this kind of arrangement. As fair as that assessment is, it bypasses what a tour-de-force the song is when played, as tonight, solo. The depressed blues of the post war limbo in the lyric, vividly juxtaposed by the flashes of 1940s swing band sparkle of the background setting, all brought to life by the incredible, colourful signatures and brush strokes of Richard’s fretwork. By the time he hits the desperate “I’m in limbo now” crescendo at the finish, the hairs on my arms are standing up. There is a reason Richard Thompson is regarded, with all too little fanfare, as one of Britain’s greatest performers and it is all there to be witnessed and heard within the quality of his work. Tonight has been a true delight, unspoiled by even a heatwave’s attempt to overcook it.

Words: Danny Neill Photos: Sophie Reichert