Musician Richard Thompson mentions a lot of names in his new memoir, but you never get the feeling that he's name dropping.

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.

... 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.

[A] welcome revelation for both fanatics and casual fans.

... 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 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.

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 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.

Like his songs, his memoir is character-focused, emotionally resonant, introspective, and written with a master’s sympathy, depth, and touch.

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.