Hippies vs. Punks: Richard & Linda Thompson's "Light(s)" Albums, Pt. 2, First Light

Hippie music, Hippie bliss. But not from a source one would expect. There's no Pacific Coast Highway Malibu to San Francisco coked-out, boozed-out self-indulgence to be found here (for that, see the Hippies vs. Punks post devoted to Rick Danko's solo debut). This is solid sonic strength from the young Sufi husband-&-wife team of Richard & Linda Thompson.

Produced at a time, 1978, when most Hippies had already given up fighting the Man and started to settle down and when the Punks, post-Pistols, were creating Post-Punk, First Light is an amazing record of the small but vibrant late 1970s Hippie vanguard.

To get a sense of what that anomaly looked like -- a Hippie vanguard as late as 1978-1979 -- consult Werner Herzog's films from this period, particularly Woyzeck (1979), but also Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979):

Those of you who have seen the DVD of Grizzly Man (2005) or enjoyed its soundtrack know that the Herzog-Thompson connection is not me merely being fanciful:

But back to First Light. It was the first album for Richard & Linda Thompson after a three-year recording hiatus. They had left behind Sufi-commune living but not Sufism. First Light is suffused with a spirituality of the type I was familiar with growing up as a Hippie kid.

I truly love this album. The back cover photo of the couple radiates power and beauty:

All ten album tracks soar, like "Strange Affair":

I even enjoy "Pavanne" now, which I didn't for a long time:

It reminds me of living in Ashland, Oregon in the late 1970s. My mother was a professional astrologer. I was just starting high school. My oldest sister, a teenage Hippie, lived nearby in the Applegate doing organic gardening. I didn't listen to the album at the time. I was listening to Mozart and Brahms and Bach. It took me another ten years to get to First Light. Then I was dealing with work and marriage and life in the Big Apple. Whenever I hear "Don't Let a Thief Steal Into Your Heart" I think about high-rise living/high-rise working and skyscraper sunshine, and of course my wife who was becoming a stranger.

But I'm pretty sure my sister listened to Richard & Linda Thompson back in the day. My Hippie sister who smelled always of garlic and patchouli oil, who wore rings on her toes and bells on her ankles, who went everywhere barefoot dressed in baggy sheer cotton pants and a brassiere-less blouse. I got to talk to her on Christmas Day. I asked her if she had enrolled in Obamacare. She runs a daycare out of her home now. She explained that she had not enrolled yet but will. Due to some tax payments owed to the state, she has to hold off until the new year. It was good to hear her voice. It has been a while.

Another film that captures the look and feel of the Hippie at the end of the 1970s is John Boorman's Excalibur (1981). In high school my best friend and I drove to Medford on a school night to see a late show thinking that it would be the best chance we had of making it into the 'R'-rated movie without being carded. We made it in.

I saw Excalibur again not too long ago. It had probably been 25 years since I saw it last. I found myself crying throughout the film, particularly the scene where Arthur goes to the convent to see Guenevere one last time and from beneath her tiny bed Guenevere pulls Excalibur -- the sword that the young Arthur had yanked out of the stone -- hands it to Arthur and says, "I've been keeping this for you."

I don't why this movie and that scene in particular reduces me to tears. I get weepy just thinking about it. But I suspect it has something to do with the disappearance of the Hippies. Very soon after the release of Excalibur the remnants of the Hippies vanish into New Ageism, and Richard & Linda Thompson record their last album together as a duo, Shoot Out the Lights (1982). Next week we will conclude with Shoot Out the Lights.

But in the meantime do yourself a favor. Find a copy of First Light and listen to it. What you will be hearing is the sound of the last Hippie vanguard.