Teddy Thompson

Teddy Thompson

A CHIP OFF THE FOLK-ROCK BLOCK
Richard and Linda Thompson's Son Teddy Paves His Own Musical Path
That ol' second generation of rock performers just keeps a-rollin' along, for better or worse, but every once in a while, an artist emerges with enough talent and character to stand out in a blindfold test, totally divorced from his or her lineage. Teddy Thompson is a prime example. The 24-year-old son of Richard and Linda Thompson doesn't lean on his genetic code on his self-titled debut album. Although he's inherited his father's impressive guitar chops (he even appeared on Dad's 1999 album Mock Tudor) and both parents' keen sense of melody, the savvy guitar pop of his self-titled solo debut betrays more debt to Neil Finn and Matthew Sweet than to either of his parents. Just prior to the album's release, Teddy talked turkey and Thompsonia with Barnes & Noble.com's David Sprague.

Barnes & Noble.com: Since you grew up in a musical family, was it sort of a given that you'd go into playing yourself?

Teddy Thompson: By a certain age, yes. When I got to be a teenager, it was clear that this was what I wanted to do. But I wasn't necessarily confident that it would work out well. I've never wanted to do anything else, really...apart from being a fireman when I was about five.

B&N.com: What did it take to instill the confidence you needed to take the next step?

TT: I went to a boarding school when I was 13, and it was a very arty school, so there was an opportunity for a lot more. I joined a band and so on. We would do concerts at school, and I would play cover tunes and thought, This is really great.

B&N.com: You're certainly not a carbon copy, musically, of either of your parents. Did you feel a need to separate yourself from them in your own career?

TT: I never consciously thought about that, actually. I feel like most of the things I write are not really in the same category as what either of them do, so I wasn't worried about following in their footsteps or anything like that.

B&N.com: Your father does play on the album, though, which seems like it might be a bit intimidating. Was he willing to be bossed around?

TT: Knowing the way he works, I'm sure he would have been if I would have wanted to, but it didn't come to that. I just like the way he -- and everyone on the record, actually -- plays. Come in, work fast, and change things up a bit, don't play the same thing over and over.

B&N.com: So working with him was purely a musical decision?

TT: It may sound odd, but yes. I had an idea of making a record with poppy songs that had a bit of folk in them. My voice is quite poppy, and I thought it would be a nice contrast to have the guitar sound that he gets -- his style fits in quite well.

B&N.com: You also worked with Rufus Wainwright [who collaborated on the song "Missing Children"]. Had you known each other for long before hitting the studio?

TT: We've known each other for&probably about three or four years. "Missing Children" was Rufus's idea -- about those little cards you get in the mail, you know. It wasn't really a fully formed idea, because we decided to write a song together, and it fizzled out because we were too drunk to finish it. I think we wrote the first two lines together, and I finished it a lot later.

B&N.com: Your style has quite a bit of traditional pop in it, which is somewhat unusual for an artist as young as you.

TT: A lot of the way the record sounds is just a result of me not wanting to spend a lot of time messing about with it. I didn't want to spend six months programming drum machines in the studio; I wanted to play live. But you're right, it's hard to be a young artist playing straight-ahead pop music. People think unless you have loops and electronics and so on, you must be in your 50's. I quite like a lot of things that have loops and sequencers, but I couldn't really be bothered [laughs].

B&N.com: You seem to vacillate between romanticism and cynicism quite readily on the album. Where do you fall in real life?

TT: I suppose it depends on what day of the week -- and who's asking. Actually, that's complete crap, because I don't think I'm a romantic at all. It's a case of having your worldview warped by Los Angeles. I think I'm too cynical for L.A.: My sense of humor doesn't go down well here, which probably affects my love life. I need to have a laugh track following me around so people know I'm trying to be funny.

August 29, 2000