Teddy Thompson has made an amazingly simple and astute observation when chatting during the build up to this new album. He has said that “songwriting is magical. You can hear one hundred people sing ‘I love you,’ and you know which one is telling the truth. If the root of the sentiment is authentic, it will resonate.” Which is something I believe to be true as well. It is why musical analysis can sometimes be a futile process, the element which enlightens an otherwise regulation song structure can be impossible to define. As Teddy says, it is just like magic which is why we reviewers are always placing such value in conviction and truth, if a song feels real then so often it will hit that much harder. But I am not sure if this is good or bad news where Teddy is concerned, because this record is steeped in so much raw feeling that you sense the real man behind every line, as if he is letting you leaf through the pages of his own inner journal. And if real life is his source (Teddy makes no attempt to deny that it is) then he has almost certainly endured the pain of a relationship ending; he is dealing with heartbreak and furthermore, trying to stay afloat in ever changeable currents. But just like the renowned artists of previous generations that Teddy will so often draw comparisons with, he has turned the turmoil into an incredible work of art.

Speaking of Thompson’s background, as enviable a route into music the offspring of successful musicians can appear to have, the hand they are dealt is often a tough one. Teddy, son of Richard and Linda, has been treading the boards and releasing his own music for the whole of this century, offering himself up for instant scrutiny and comparison to one of folks’ greatest artists at a time when he was still finding his feet. This is not a regular kind of problem for anyone starting out on spit and sawdust circuit, trying to get themselves noticed on social media and streaming platforms. Those days are usually spent under the radar, and those potential new Bob Dylan’s will have written all their bad songs, played enough uninspired gigs, and tried on a variety of ill-fitting hats long before anyone is planting them on a stage next to Dylan himself to assess their credibility. Teddy Thompson did not really have that luxury and I confess, when I used to see him twenty-five years ago supporting or playing in his fathers’ band, I did not entertain the idea that he would ever be composing songs comparable in craftsmanship to those Richard would, and continues to, write. Still, today and for a while now, years of perseverance and honing his work have earned an honorary membership to the ‘famous musicians’ offspring’ club where inductees prove their talent would have risen to the top with or without the aid of heritage. I put Teddy alongside artists like Neneh Cherry, Sean Ono Lennon, Justin Townes Earle, Martha & Rufus Wainwright and Jakob Dylan, all of whom impressively found their own undeniable voice and unique identity just like Teddy enjoys today.

So, what is the Teddy Thompson sound? Well, it is far more soulful than you might ever expect. He has a retro sheen but is nothing like a throwback, belonging to the here and now and we are lucky to have him. It is simply that his tools and approach adopt the classicists outlook rather than leaning into any modern shortcuts. It comes back to that feeling of being real, the ache in these vocals best accompanied by instruments and playing that can respond with an empathetic feel. Opener ‘Come Back’ is a vivid scene setter, a folk-rock ballad that finds our narrator pleading for a departed loved one to return, the cold isolation in the verses giving way to a middle eight sunburst exposing loves contradictions, not merely in the tonal shift but also a lyric that states “when you were here I couldn’t wait for you to leave.” Delicious electric riffing fuels ‘I Need Real (Love)’ and ‘I Remember’ has a sweeping, heart‑stopping flourish that could have come straight from Roy Orbison’s own horizon. This clears the decks for ‘So This Is Heartache,’ a place where an original southern soul train pulls into the station, resplendent with its classic slow-burning balladry architecture from the genres golden age and a lyrical conceit that meets heartache as if being formally introduced.

Rather than plunging us into an irretrievable morosity, ‘Worst Two Weeks Of My Life’ has an upward trajectory to the verses arriving at the question “will I ever be the same?” However, there is almost a celebratory acceptance of the inevitable oncoming changes and as the albums title alludes, evolution and shifting sands are part of life so you might as well be prepared to move on. Speaking of changes, the chord progressions in ‘Baby It’s You’ are Beatle-like in their graceful flow, which is something Teddy was aware of too as he subtly decorates this one with some George Harrison worshipping guitar lines. ‘Make Up Your Mind’ is a bouncy ode to indecision whilst ‘The Game’ revives the early sixties pop song echoes, right down to the satin swoops and heart-on-sleeve drama in the string arrangement. And I cannot let ‘Not What I Need’ pass without commenting on the brilliant break in the song where Teddy, deliberately heavy handedly, adjusts the line “I should have told you weeks ago” to “months ago.” Then finally, the flute enhanced chamber pop of ‘Same Old Song’ ends the record in a reflective state of mind, but as the title is sung remotely with great foreboding, you sense our narrator has finally shuffled to the cusp of a new phase and is ready for the great leap forward. And for sure, you cannot blame him wanting to move on, but neither should we ignore that the document Teddy Thompson has left us with will be something us listeners revisit time and time again, this is a career highlight kind of album.

Danny Neill

Get a physical copy of the album here: https://amzn.to/4wz2LMk