'The buck stopped with me'

Teddy Thompson was born into folk-music aristocracy but has gone his own way as a singer-songwriter, writes Tony Clayton-Lea

Teddy Thompson was born into folk-music aristocracy but has gone his own way as a singer-songwriter, writes Tony Clayton-Lea

Pressure? What pressure? Teddy Thompson, son of Richard Thompson - one of the best songwriters of his generation - is having none of the "chip-off-the-old-block" syndrome.

"I think I've managed to transcend that," he says. "I mean, there are some not-so-great second-generation people around in the various parts of the creative arts, and that perhaps has taken on a naturally bad air. But I think I'm lucky in that I don't have a particularly similar sound to that of my Dad's. It's definitely useful for me not to have to suffer from direct comparisons."

Teddy was born 30 years ago in London, and was raised initially in a commune where his parents, Richard and equally acclaimed singer Linda, resided. Leaving school at 18, Teddy moved to Los Angeles (where Richard had decamped following the break-up of his marriage). There Teddy started to pursue a musical career in earnest. Linking up with the local LA singer-songwriter scene (which included Wainwright clan members Rufus and Martha), Teddy soldiered on with writing songs, recording demos and playing gigs, his hard work culminating in the late 1990s in a record deal with Virgin.

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"It was good to be around that positive American can-do attitude," he says. "In England, you can get wrapped up in pessimism - is it something to do with the weather, perhaps? But in LA I met some people who encouraged me in certain areas, and all of a sudden everything was sunshine. It was undoubtedly a pivotal experience, too, a sea change in my life."

His self-titled debut, released in 2000, won substantial critical plaudits and a small but enthusiastic fan base. And then he was dropped. Cue another round of writing songs, recording demos and playing gigs. And even more comparisons with his father.

"I have to be honest and say that I didn't get too tired of that," he says. "I think it's safe to say that I'm not too famous for it to impinge on what the person on the street thinks of me. It's not the same as being Julian or Sean Lennon, for instance. But also, you know, the English folk tradition that my parents come from is something to be celebrated rather than shied away from. I sing and play with both of them, and I embrace it. Or at least I try to, so becoming a singer and songwriter in my own right has never been very difficult.

"The only thing I came across at the start was that some people would come to see me play out of curiosity, just because they were fans of my Mum and Dad, and would arrive just to have a look-see-hear. Those people know what I sound like now, so they've either drifted away or stayed, depending on whether they like me or not."

Was it inevitable that he would forge a career in music?

"I think if I hadn't been singing or writing songs I don't think I'd be doing anything else in the arts area or music industry," he says. "It's a bit of a nasty business really, and I don't think I could see myself working on the other side, so to speak."

He was left very much to his own devices when growing up. Music was a big part of family life, he says, but not in an active way. "We didn't sit around the piano at home, singing songs or anything like that. I picked it up on my own at school, and from the age of 10 I took guitar lessons. Yes, I'm sure, like all little boys who see their parents doing something, they want to do the same, subconsciously anyway. I don't recall thinking along those lines, but I'm sure it's part of the reason why I chose to learn how to play guitar. It had to be. But I got into it myself and started to formulate a songwriting structure. It was when I got to the age of 18 that I started to become reasonably pleased with what I was writing. That's when I moved to Los Angeles."

ENGLAND IS NOW his base - he moved there from the US several years ago. He hasn't been resting on his thin layer of laurels, either; in between working on his follow-up album, the recently released Separate Ways (which certainly proves he is not, in a creative sense, stalking his father), he assisted the comeback of sorts of his reclusive mother, Linda, drawing her out of a 17-year musical hiatus. But it's the new album he is perhaps most proud of - a record he worked on from start to finish, with little assistance and lots of interruption.

"I've learned that I can do it myself, though," he says. "I've gained a lot of confidence and self-reliance, because I made the new album without a record company or producer. I did it in fits and starts; the whole time I was working on it I was waiting for someone to rescue me, to take over and finish it, and make it proper, a real record. But no one ever came along to save the day, so I ended up doing it myself, which turned out to be a really good thing. I've made a good record, and feel proud about the finished product. The buck stopped with me."

Sounds like fun? Not really.

"It was a complete nightmare a lot of the time," Thompson groans. "When it was over, it felt fine. Doing something like that makes you feel a lot more powerful and a lot less helpless. The main thing it told me? There's no great mystery about making a record."

Pressure? No pressure at all.

Separate Ways is on Universal. Teddy Thompson plays Whelan's, Dublin, on Sat, May 13