Musician Richard Thompson mentions a lot of names in his new memoir, but you never get the feeling that he's name dropping ... More than a typical celebrity memoir, Beeswing is thoughtful, well written and at times very funny. Thompson writes with real grief about the horrendous car crash that killed two people as the band was returning from a gig, and he talks frankly about how that accident affected him for years ... He's a generous memoirist, giving credit to musicians who influenced him and downplaying his own remarkable skills ... With his sophisticated songs and distinctive guitar work, Thompson, 72, has long been the thinking person's musician. Turns out he's also the thinking person's memoirist.

The balancing act of major and minor, strung together by his witty, self-deprecating banter, is the crux of Mr. Thompson’s shows, and that same equipoise between dirge and ditty is the hallmark of Beeswing: It’s everything you’d hope a Richard Thompson autobiography would be, and nothing you’d fear. He is honest and opinionated, forthcoming about both his technique and creative process, but discreet ... Yet he can be bracing with regard to himself ... There are some memorable anecdotes and some quality jokes ... both major and minor, dirge and ditty, light on its feet but packing a punch: like the very best Richard Thompson show.

... wry, un-ponderous, anti-obligatory. Because the sound Thompson created with Fairport was rooted in centuries-old songs, he isn’t captive to ’60s clichés; and because British electric folk is off the classic-rock grid — as he ruefully observes, 'The niche remained a niche' — the book’s period accent makes it feel fresh and exploratory.

Evidently an earlier draft of Beeswing was more impressionistic—the publisher pushed for more of a chronological take. It was probably the right call, because the book is very readable. Thompson writes exceptionally well, in a droll, understated, very British way. If he doesn’t fully communicate the depths of his heart, well, okay, it’s a tradeoff for a window into an important period—the birth of British folk-rock ... Thompson’s musical evolution is treated well here ... What is in these pages outweighs what isn’t. If you love music in all its myriad forms, as Thompson does, you’ll love this book. It’s better at song creation (and evolution in the studio) than most memoirs, and it’s hugely informative about the time and the place. Yes, the whole thing is understated, but Thompson still tells a fine old story—and the book is full of good crack, as the Irish say.

[A] welcome revelation for both fanatics and casual fans ... a unique experience ... Beeswing is not music, but it sings, telling the story of one of our greatest contemporary guitarists in a voice as unique as his playing and composing. It is worth reading, even if you have never heard a note he has played (though you probably have at some point).

... an absorbing, witty, often deliciously biting read, as all rock memoirs should be. But instead of the usual tale of rags to debauched fame and wealth, Thompson presents an altogether more arduous trajectory, from outward middle-class respectability (his father was a detective with London’s Metropolitan Police) to the strikingly precarious life of an itinerant young musician living hand to mouth for years and encountering more than his share of existential absurdity and loss ... Thompson is an engaging prose stylist, as observant and wide-ranging on the page as he is in his songs, and he graces his stories with a sparkling wit familiar to audiences from his stage banter ... He certainly doesn’t shy away from the dark corners and lurking demons, but he does so with the lightest of touches ... Some of the silences, though, are frustrating. I would have welcomed much more on his spiritual crisis and how he pulled himself out of it. I also would have liked to read a lot more about his relationship with the guitar and how he expanded his range and technique. Like a guest at an English dinner party, Thompson appears at times to be overly anxious not to bore the assembled company and stops short when he should have more faith that we are in fact hanging on his every word.

Thompson shares a variety of compelling experiences that forged and elevated his creative abilities. His continued relevance as a writer and player today at age 72 speaks to lessons well learned ... Richard Thompson is no name-dropper, however. If anything, he undersells some of his more amazing musical encounters. No less than guitar shaman Jimi Hendrix would occasionally jump on stage to perform with Fairport, events Thompson renders noteworthy but not especially mind-blowing ... While music dominates this memoir, Thompson also tackles the personal. His writing is typically direct, succinct and blunt in such matters ... The only frustration for fans may come at story’s end. While the book’s title offers hope for a second volume covering Thompson’s years of relative commercial success and critical adoration, the epilogue zips through highlights of that era in a mere five pages. Here’s to Thompson writing more about that work and those times with the same thoughtfulness and vigor with which he approaches these tales of his formative days.

I’m not sure where to place the uneven new memoir from this outstanding guitarist and solid songwriter, though. The story of his early years moves along more or less chronologically yet lacks much in the way of insight or analysis. I gather Thompson has grown emotionally since this period in his life. Unfortunately, with a few exceptions, he mostly remembers it through the lens of that less introspective, more taciturn young dude ... Thompson’s memoir concludes rather abruptly, with a somewhat flaccid epilogue in which the author sounds relieved the book is over ... frustratingly thin gruel ... Thompson is somewhat more interesting when he discusses the rise and fall of Fairport Convention and his own embrace of Sufism, a mystical form of Islam. These passages, unlike so many others, brim with energy. I’m speculating here, but I think the wind may have left Thompson’s sails mid-project when his co-author, Scott Timberg, died ... I’ve seen Richard Thompson in concert a number of times. He’s a talented performer, funny and a bit of a raconteur onstage. Rather than pining for a second volume of his memoir, I think I’ll look forward instead to seeing him live the next time he plays anywhere near me.

Thompson proves himself equally adept as a memoirist, ably capturing the 1960s and ’70s music scene; the exciting, exhausting, and harrowing life on the road; and his spiritual awakening when he finds affirmation, fulfillment, and peace in Sufism. Just as he has a knack for lyrics, Thompson has a way with words on the page, offering colorful portraits of his contemporaries and collaborators, including the immensely talented though self-destructive Sandy Denny, Fairport’s singer ... Thompson’s humor and insight also shine. He evocatively recreates a time and place, and. like his shows, his memoir leaves you wanting more.

Like his songs, his memoir is character-focused, emotionally resonant, introspective, and written with a master’s sympathy, depth, and touch ... As a storyteller, Thompson describes moments of emotional withdrawal and occasional self-criticism—understandably, given that he’s had his share of hardship and tragedy. He is never less than razor-sharp, and credit is due for including both the highs and lows ... Thompson’s spell is never broken, and, as on disc, his is a welcome voice to meet on the page. Readers will be eager for the next volume of the story. Like a great Richard Thompson solo, this title contains surprise, beauty, delight, and a voice like no other. His autobiography is as welcome as it is long overdue.

The band’s ups and downs, which included the death of drummer Martin Lamble in a road accident and decisions about replacing members, vividly detail the challenges of maintaining a joint creative enterprise. Along the way, Thompson convincingly argues Fairport Convention left a legacy by electrifying traditional English folk songs, and delineates the artistic impulses behind his decision to quit Fairport Convention to perform with his wife, Linda. Thompson extensively quotes his lyrics and isn’t shy about digging into his creative process, but even so, those less familiar with his music will have a bit of a tough time getting into the swing of things. But readers who regard Thompson as a major figure in the arts will consider this a must-read.

For anyone who has heard Thompson classics like Walking on a Wire or I Want To See the Bright Lights Tonight, it’s no surprise that he knows how to tell a story and turn a phrase. He offers plenty of insight into the early days of Fairport Convention and its ever changing lineup along with charming anecdotes about getting stopped by German customs agents for carrying laundry soap in his bag or how his family name went from Thomson to Thompson due to a printing error on a brass nameplate his great-grandfather bought for his front door ... As the narrative progresses, it becomes clear that there are subjects he is happy to discuss—his quest for religious fulfillment or his career as a session musician—and those he is not, including his courting and breakup with Linda or his family life. The holes may not have been as noticeable if the text didn’t move chronologically, using albums and tours to move the narrative forward rather than the major events of his life. That combination leads to awkward placeholders that could have been emotional centerpieces ... Fans of Thompson’s music will enjoy the stories behind his career, but those new to his cool style may find it a little cold.