Review Summary: Shut up about the bloody reverb.
In the mid-1980s, the now-defunct PolyGram decided to drop Richard Thompson from their label. Already in his late 30s and coming off the back of some less-than-perfect albums, perhaps some assumed his best was behind him, or that his popularity would only decline with age. So when Capitol Records took a gamble, snapped Thompson up and put him straight back to work, critics and the public alike beheld a late peak - a 'renaissance' if you will – as Thompson proceeded to unfurl some of the sharpest lyrics and most dextrous guitar playing of his career on 1988's
Amnesia, and even more so on his subsequent powerhouse record, 1991's
Rumour & Sigh. Sales began to rise considerably, and Thompson was on the cusp of getting the superstardom many believe he deserved.
So what went wrong? Well, two things. First,
Mirror Blue was a big, bold album with plenty of punch and intrigue, but all this swirling mysticism was simply let loose at completely the wrong time. Rather than riding in the slipstream of
Rumor & Sigh, its release was delayed due to an administrative reshuffle at the head of Capitol. The result was the removal of pro-Thompson CEO Hale Milgrim, and the problems that arose from this process need no further explanation. The other issue
Mirror Blue suffered through was the continuing saga of Thompson's working relationship with producer Mitchell Froom. For the previous three albums, Froom had been criticised for 'Americanising' Thompson's sound, over-smoothing it and un-folking it. However,
Mirror Blue, upon its release, was revealed to be a freak record; neither expressly poppy nor folk-oriented, it was an outlandish, jumped-up album pairing the earnest nature of Thompson's songwriting with a backing of mechanical clunking and dense percussion. Needless to say, the critics struck back with relentless negative press, citing overbearing production, lack of folk-style guitar, and, most frequently, an apparently unsettling lack of reverb.
But let's get one thing straight;
Mirror Blue is by no means the weak link in the catalogue that it was made out to be. It wasn't a transitional record, but a lively, forceful statement from Thompson, and was in fact the beginning of a much darker streak in his output, both in sound and lyrics. The keyboard-laden
For the Sake of Mary, the crunchy
MGB-GT and the anguished
The Way That It Shows showcase this shift to the greatest extent, while other more classic-sounding Thompson trademarks are also present, and perhaps that is the most impressive aspect of the album; its sheer range, darting from blues-rock to ballad to experimental and back again. Only the superb
I Can't Wake Up To Save My Life manages to capture a truly pop-based sound like Thompson's recent releases, yet the hints of Froom's input are still evident, with a heavily distorted intro, muted scraping sounds throughout, and a hi-hat that sounds like a broken steam valve. Thus, if a true pop song such as this cannot escape Froom's grasp, then it is no surprise that for vast swathes of the album, the production is the focal point, and you know what? It's fantastic. It lends to the album an edgy, raw sound, deftly straddling the line between beauty and insanity. Even on the hilarious, absurd cut
Fast Food, the pulsating pounding of the percussion is almost oppressive yet still joyful and enthusiastic.
Every once in a while, however, the Froom Effect drops its weapons, steps to one side and allows Thompson to do what he does best; make unbearably beautiful music. Perhaps the two greatest, most heartbreaking songs of the guitarist's career reside on
Mirror Blue, the cult classic ballad
Beeswing and the achingly sad
King of Bohemia, both songs acting as stories of wasted youth and lost love, and both vividly frozen in time and context whilst still being wistfully relatable to any listener. To be so dumbstruck, so in-awe of the pain and bitterness conveyed in the slower songs of
Mirror Blue are proof, if proof be needed, that this is an album that all detractors need to attempt again. An album of great reward, crossing over numerous genres and emotions,
Mirror Blue is not only a better album than critics would suggest, but is arguably Thompson's greatest achievement, along with 1999's
Mock Tudor. Though where that album is a straight rock and roll record, the sheer audacity of what Froom and Thompson attempted on
Mirror Blue is not only commendable, but an overwhelming success. It's at once cold and alien while still remaining familiar and, to an extent, optimistic. I would not suggest newcomers start here, but once they reach this point, they'll be hooked on Thompson for life; the word 'underrated' cannot be used more aptly than for this challenging, razor-sharp record.
