Them wot know, know...
For the rest of yer, do yourself a massive favour and try to see this bloke live before he - or you - corks it.
Sublime stuff.
... And his ex-missus weren't too shabby either; Whispering Bob agreed:
And, lastly, some fiddling about with Dave Swarbrick:
My Richard Thompson live story: he was playing in Edinburgh in the Assembly Rooms. As he was playing he broke a string. Instead of stopping, he kept playing and at the same time pulled another string out of a pocket, replaced the string, tuned it and kept going. We couldn't quite believe what we were seeing. Thunderous applause ensued...
‘I guess that’s just the price you pay for the chains you refuse’ is one of my favourite lines in any song ever. The emotion, the wisdom, the regret, coming as it does towards the end of the story. I’m not familiar with much of his catalogue, but that’s one of my favourite songs of all time.
> ‘I guess that’s just the price you pay for the chains you refuse’ is one of my favourite lines in any song ever. The emotion, the wisdom, the regret, coming as it does towards the end of the story. I’m not familiar with much of his catalogue, but that’s one of my favourite songs of all time.
It's a fantastic song. Full lyrics:
I was nineteen when I came to town
They called in the Summer of Love
They were burningbabies, burning flags
The Hawks against the Doves
I took a job in the STeamie
Down on Cauldrum Street
I fell in love with a laundry girl
Was working next to me
She was a rare thing
Fine as a beeswing
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child
She was running wild, she said
As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay
And you wouldn't want me any other way
Brown hair zig-zag round her face
And a look of half-surprise
Like a fox caught in the headlights
There was an animal in her eyes
She said, young man, O can't you see
I'm not the factory kind
If you don't take me out of here
I'll surely lose my miind
She was a rare thing
Fine as a beeswing
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child
She was running wild, she said
As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay
And you wouldn't want me any other way
We busked around the market towns
And picked fruit down in Kent
And we could tinker lamps and pots
And knives wherever we went
And I said that we might settle down
Get a few acres dug
Fire burning in the hearth
And babies on the rug
She said O man, you foolish man
It surely sounds like hell
You might be lord of half the world
You'll not own me as well
She was a rare thing
Fine as a beeswing
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child
She was running wild, she said
As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay
And you wouldn't want me any other way
We was camping down the Gower one time
The work was pretty good
She thought we shouldn't wait for frost
And I thought maybe we should
We were drinking more in those days
And tempers reached a pitch
Like a fool I let her run
With the rambling itch
Last I hear she's sleeping out
Back on Derby beat
White Horse in her hip pocket
And a wolfhound at her feet
And they say she even marriend once
A man named Romany Brown
But even a Gypsy caravan
Was too much settliing down
And they say her flower is faded now
Hard weather and hard booze
But maybe that's just hte price you pay
For the chains you refuse
She was a rare thing
Fine as a beeswing
And I missher more than ever words could say
If I could just taste
All of her wildness now
If I could hold her in my arms today
Then I wouldn't want her any other way
From his best album, I think.
There's a tribute album, Beat the Retreat, which is worth seeking out. Some of the covers are, predictably, awful but others are sublime. Loudon Wainwright and Shawn Colvin's cover of A Heart Needs A Home surpasses excellence.
T.
Anyone who can turn 'oops I did it again' into a 16th century style song that is quintessentially them, evidently knows what they're doing.
1952 Vincent Black Lightening is probably the best story-telling song there is.
One of a my top ten songs about anything . If there is a finer song about motorbikes I’m yet to hear it .
youtube.com/watch?v=j0kJdrfzjAg&
“Said James, "In my opinion, there's nothing in this world
Beats a '52 Vincent and a Redheaded girl.
Now Nortons and Indians and Greavses won't do.
Oh, they don't have a Soul like a Vincent '52." “
I saw him in 84/85 or so in a sweaty basement in Cambridge. While I appreciate the musicianship, I find his folk stuff a drag to listen to. This tremendous live cover of Substitute on the other hand, has me going back to it time after time:
not sure it is better but Triumph 73 by the Felice Brothers is a great motorcycle song
Yes, 52 Vincent is very good. If you like songs with stories, check out Al Stewart.
Cheers, David
All rise for the hangman. His pleasure is that you shall rise
He's the judge and the jury at the jesters assize
Thompson era Fairport is when he really starts to find his feet.
> Yes, 52 Vincent is very good. If you like songs with stories, check out Al Stewart.
> Cheers, David
RT was guitarist on Love Chronicles.
Great song, I like the cover by Sean Rowe as well.
Saw him do a marvelous acoustic set a couple of months ago at Fairport's Cropredy Convention. At one point he did Vincent Black Lightning followed by Beeswing followed by From Galway to Graceland. I can't think of another English songwriter capable of such narrative brilliance. An hour later he reappeared with his Strat to tear it up in an anniversary performance of the Full House album. Inimitable.
> If there is a finer song about motorbikes I’m yet to hear it
hmmmmmm. Great rock song . However Here’s a selection of the lyrics :
I've got a silver machine
I've got a silver machine
I've got a silver machine
I've got a silver machine
I've got a silver machine
I've got a silver machine
I've got a silver machine
I've got a silver machine
I've got a silver machine
I've got a silver machine
Says Red Molly, to James, "Well that's a fine motorbike.
A girl could feel special on any such like."
Says James, to Red Molly, "My hat's off to you.
It's a Vincent Black Lightning, 1952.
Hell of a guitar player.
Live '79! Cracking album. Apparently the song's about Bob Calvert's push bike.
I saw him in Leeds 20 odd years ago and he hit a bum note on the intro to Vincent Black Lightning and tried again. Chap in audience shouted out: "It's in there somewhere!" RT stood up, somewhat miffed, held out his guitar and said" Is it sir,? Do you think so? Want to come and find it?"
Yes, I've seen that series before. Great stuff.
.. I love the look on the faces of the other two as Thommo rips up the fretboard.
Not quite all there is to it.
I should probably have said that I also love the Thompson song.
> It's a fantastic song. Full lyrics:
> I was nineteen when I came to town
> They called in the Summer of Love
> They were burningbabies, burning flags
> The Hawks against the Doves
> I took a job in the STeamie
> Down on Cauldrum Street
> I fell in love with a laundry girl
> Was working next to me
> She was a rare thing
> Fine as a beeswing
> So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
> She was a lost child
> She was running wild, she said
> As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay
> And you wouldn't want me any other way
> Brown hair zig-zag round her face
> And a look of half-surprise
> Like a fox caught in the headlights
> There was an animal in her eyes
> She said, young man, O can't you see
> I'm not the factory kind
> If you don't take me out of here
> I'll surely lose my miind
> She was a rare thing
> Fine as a beeswing
> So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
> She was a lost child
> She was running wild, she said
> As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay
> And you wouldn't want me any other way
> We busked around the market towns
> And picked fruit down in Kent
> And we could tinker lamps and pots
> And knives wherever we went
> And I said that we might settle down
> Get a few acres dug
> Fire burning in the hearth
> And babies on the rug
> She said O man, you foolish man
> It surely sounds like hell
> You might be lord of half the world
> You'll not own me as well
> She was a rare thing
> Fine as a beeswing
> So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
> She was a lost child
> She was running wild, she said
> As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay
> And you wouldn't want me any other way
> We was camping down the Gower one time
> The work was pretty good
> She thought we shouldn't wait for frost
> And I thought maybe we should
> We were drinking more in those days
> And tempers reached a pitch
> Like a fool I let her run
> With the rambling itch
> Last I hear she's sleeping out
> Back on Derby beat
> White Horse in her hip pocket
> And a wolfhound at her feet
> And they say she even marriend once
> A man named Romany Brown
> But even a Gypsy caravan
> Was too much settliing down
> And they say her flower is faded now
> Hard weather and hard booze
> But maybe that's just hte price you pay
> For the chains you refuse
> She was a rare thing
> Fine as a beeswing
> And I missher more than ever words could say
> If I could just taste
> All of her wildness now
> If I could hold her in my arms today
> Then I wouldn't want her any other way
Probably my favourite RT song. The steamie in Caldrum St mentioned is in Dundee, my mum and gran used to go to it.
> Probably my favourite RT song. The steamie in Caldrum St mentioned is in Dundee, my mum and gran used to go to it.
Ace!... He's nowt if not authentic.
Given he's an English man who's lived in LA for40 yrs or so!
I was immensely happy after learning to play the intro/fingerpicking for this over the last lockdown. (maybe slightly simplified!)
Also has 2 of my favourite verses ever:
Brown hair zig-zag round her face
> And a look of half-surprise
> Like a fox caught in the headlights
> There was an animal in her eyes
and
And they say her flower is faded now
> Hard weather and hard booze
> But maybe that's just the price you pay
> For the chains you refuse
I absolutely love this performance of God Loves a Drunk, at least partly for the audience response:
youtube.com/watch?v=P-noSz2XsIY&
Do we have any drunks in the audience this evening? (Whoops and cheers from the audience.) This one's for all the drunks! (More whoops and cheers.)
(Music begins)
Will there be any bartenders up there in heaven (Whoop! Yeah!) will the pubs never close will the glass never drain
Will there be no more DTs, no shakes and no horrors, and the very next morning you'll feel right as rain (silence)
> 1952 Vincent Black Lightening is probably the best story-telling song there is.
I'm a fan of Thompson, and that's a great song. But your claim suggests that you haven't listened to much real country music. Country is absolutely full of great story telling songs.
>
> If there is a finer song about motorbikes I’m yet to hear it .
> Given he's an English man who's lived in LA for40 yrs or so!
New Jersey, these days.
> ... And his ex-missus weren't too shabby either; Whispering Bob agreed:
Just realised that I'd buggered the link up.
Here she is in all her glory:
Anne Briggs, the hugely influential folk singer and free spirit who was one of the inspirations for Beeswing got a rare outing on R3 this morning:
youtube.com/watch?v=-P86wCfXNkY&
That's terrible!