Music |
Teddy Thompson: Bella
By
Published: Feb 08, 2011
Category:
Rock
The line on Teddy Thompson is that he’s just too fantastic for his own good. Too gifted a writer, too compelling a singer, too handsome a man. And too insistently artistic to release a CD of songs that kids want to buy.
It’s a damn shame.
Who can save Teddy Thompson?
Really smart women.
Why do I think this?
Personal experience.
My veddy British trainer screamed like a schoolgirl when Teddy stepped on stage.
After a few songs, my friend Gretl said, “I want to grab him and pull on his hair.
Women over 25 — he’s catnip to them. (If women — and a few good men — feel like buying “Bella” from Amazon, click here. For the MP3 download, click here.)
Maybe Vogue could do a think piece on his winsome combination of good cheer and self-loathing. Or, because he can look like England’s Prince William when he’s shaved and cleaned up, he could model for Ralph Lauren. And then, having been turned into Justin Bieber’s older brother, Teddy might get TV producers interested in mining his five CDs for songs — and there are many — that would hold female viewers at the end of a TV drama. Next stop: stardom.
Has the promotion of Teddy Thompson really come to gimmicks? I resist that conclusion, though, clearly, the exquisite quality of his music has, over five CDs, failed to work much magic. Let’s give quality one last shot. Here’s an acoustic version of the CD’s poppiest tune, &l
See the problem? He’s so good it looks easy.
I’ve interviewed him before. I’ve teed up all his CDs and their greatest hits. I could guilt-trip you — the greatest talent you should/must care about — but that never works.
Let’s try a different tack — a charm offensive.
Now “charm” may not be the first word that comes to mind when you’re talking about Teddy Thompson. Yes, he’s in love with love; he wants it badly and, when he loses it, wants it back. But he’s also a toxic lover, who sings “I was born with a love disease/ It’s known as chronic hard to please” and “Forward me to someone new” and “I’m looking for a girl who’s easy on the eye/ But not so fucking stupid she makes me want to cry.” On the other hand, he’s funny and ironic and self-aware, good qualities all, and if you get to know him a little — if you see it his way — maybe “Teddy Thompson” will morph into “Teddy,” your pal who just happens to be a fabulous musician.
So let’s just….chat with Teddy Thompson.
Two things fascinate me about him. One is artistic: how he came to write some of the most intimate lyrics this side of Leonard Cohen. And second, how those songs play out in the real world — in his relationships with women. Thinking of my Teddy-intoxicated female friends, I started our conversation there.
Jesse Kornbluth: Do women see you as a challenge — the Everest of men?
Teddy Thompson: Most women I date don’t know who I am…I’m not famous enough. I meet women in bars and parties.
JK: But isn’t there a recognition moment: “You’re the guy in those songs!”
TT: Never happens. Anyway, they’re already involved with me before they find out.
JK: Do you ever get this reaction from women who like you: “Teddy, I’m hooked on your music, and I think I could help you.”
TT: In the beginning, it’s not about music.
JK: Eventually, they come to your show. Is that disarming?
TT: Only when they say: I’m more into techno.
JK: Later, though, your songs suggest that your relationships always sour.
TT: Then they see that some of the songs are true.
JK: In what way?
TT: I like to be on my own a lot.
JK: How much time can you spend alone before you feel, as your song has it, “I must get up/ I must go out/ There must be something/ I can’t do without?”
TT: A week.
JK: During that week, what do you do?
TT: Stay home. Listen to music. Watch TV. I pretty much prefer people in short spurts. Here’s my worst nightmare: You meet someone for lunch. They say: “Let’s do something after.” Then they say: “Coffee?” And it goes on all day…
JK: Maybe it would be better if you were romantically involved with a musician.
TT: Never done it. Might have ego trouble.
JK: Do you “need” to write?
TT: I finish nothing without a deadline.
JK: Isn’t that the real mark of a professional? Don’t people who have nothing to say say it all the time?
TT: You know the Chuck Berry story? He got a call: “Come in and cut a record.” He got on a train with 3 songs. He got off the train with 7 more. His biggest hits, in fact.
JK: How quickly have you written a song?
TT: A day. I play guitar all the time. That’s recreation — it doesn’t seem like work. When I have to record, I have to finish things.
JK: Where are your parents [the legendary English guitarist Richard Thompson and his ex-wife, the folk-rock singer Linda Thompson] as examples or influences?
TT: They were just encouraging enough. Which was right on the money.
JK: I saw you do a terrific show. After, you were hard on yourself. What happens when you go home?
TT: After a show that disappoints me, I have the urge to come home and practice. But usually I just crumble. Fall into bed. Get depressed. Then try to regroup.
JK: Therapy?
TT: Tried it. Useful. Stopped when I went on tour.
JK: Now that no one sells CDs, touring is where you make your living. But I’m not convinced you like performing all that much.
TT: I like touring for all that goes with it. Hanging out with friends, drinking in bars, hotels, the guys. It’s what they say: “Aren’t we having fun — if only we didn’t have to do the gig!” The thing is, I do enjoy it — when it’s right.
JK: How often is that?
TT: One in three is great. One in three is ok. And one is terrible.
JK: Define “right.”
TT: Very little to do with me. It’s the audience and the room. It’s the sound guy, the sound of the band. When I’m alone, it’s easier. Add a band, it’s all up in the air.
JK: Would it be easier if your ad libs were less spontaneous?
TT: I love not knowing what to say each night. That’s the upside. Even if 20% is on the edge of great or terrible, that’s exciting to me. I’m a confidence player, as they say in sports. I’m not the steady fullback who always comes through for you.
JK: Was it was easier when you played in someone else’s band?
TT: Like with Rosanne Cash? Yes. It’s fun to be in someone’s band — freeing. It’s all the things I normally do …with no one looking at me. Then after a while, you go: “Could someone look at me?” Ultimately, music for me is a way to write songs for me to play.
JK: In your writing, I hear outrageous variety — ‘50s rock, classic country, power pop — and there’s more.
TT: Well, I don’t quite know who I want to be. There are so many styles I like. My friend Rufus [Wainwright] is totally distinctive — he knows who he is and what he does well. On the way to the studio, he won’t hear a country song and think, “Oh, I want to do that.” I do. It’s not a bad thing.
JK: Who is Bella?
TT: A girlfriend while I was making the record. She’s heard it. But we don’t speak anymore.
JK: Then why name the record after her?
TT: I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wanted to stick it to her a bit. But not every song is about her.
JK: Do you mind that your music makes listeners think: Those songs — they’re all about Teddy?
TT: Not at all. It is all about me. I know it sounds egotistical, but it’s the only way I know how to do it.
JK: Flaubert cried when he wrote the death of Madame Bovary. Do you get excited when you write a great line?
TT: No. I tend to think something is good later. When I’m writing, I’m just struggling to fill in the gaps.
JK: Do you save good lines in notebooks other songwriters might want to steal?
TT: It’s all in my head. Sometimes I sing into my computer. But my songwriting philosophy is: survival of the fittest.
JK: Do you read reviews?
TT: I wish I could say I didn’t. But people send them to you. Or you can’t resist Google. When it’s negative, I generally think: They have a point.
Final thought: No. They don’t. Good is good. Better is better. Teddy Thompson is just great.
