INCONSPICUOUS in a black leather coat and cap, Richard Thompson remains undisturbed as he windowshops on London’s Denmark Street. For one of Britain’s most revered guitarists and songwriters, though, this particular road holds temptations and regrets at every turn.
“Roger McGuinn left his Rickenbacker behind in the UK, because the neck was broken,” he says, eyeing a 12-string in one shop window. “Somebody fixed it and I bought it. I’m divorced from it now, but it was good while it lasted. Now I’ve got a Telecaster 12-string, which is great – Jeff Tweedy has three!”
Further along the street, past a display fortuitously presenting two models from his past – a Gibson ES-175 and a vintage sunburst Stratocaster – he pauses to peer into the industrial interior of a chic steak restaurant. Thompson used to come here in the ’60s, back when this was La Giaconda coffee bar and he was just 12 or 13 years old. “You used to see all kinds of people in there,” he recalls. “The Shadows, the Small Faces, anybody. My friends and I used to come down Saturday morning, ogle the guitars and have a cup of tea.”
Only a few years later, Thompson and his pals formed Fairport Convention, and soon went to pioneer an electrifying strand of British folk. By 1971, he’d left the band to go solo and, barring a decade-long partnership with his first wife Linda, that’s where he’s been ever since. While consistency is Thompson’s forte, his last few albums have been some of his strongest: 2013’s Electric and 2015’s Still were excellent, but 2018’s 13 Rivers and his upcoming new album, Ship To Shore, are even better.
“As a batsman I’d like to not be the guy who’s out for a duck or scores a hundred,” he says. “I’d like to be the guy who scores 33 every time, just reliable. It could be a fantastic, elegant, inspirational, artistic 33…”
He turns 75 in April, but to many Thompson remains the gangly teenager of Fairport fame,
