With Pentangle, Nick Drake and John Martyn, he marked out virgin territory, before booze and the black dog bit. At 83, Battersea’s bass explorer has some ‘plonks’ left in him – but in what genre? “I’ve got no prejudices about music at all,” says Danny Thompson.

Interview by TOM DOYLE • Portrait by TOM SHEEHAN

Tom Sheehan, Sandra Vijandi

‘‘MY BRAIN IS STILL 18,” SAYS Danny Thompson, “even if I’ve got an 83-year-old body.” Sitting in his living room, in his home of 30 years on the outreaches of north-west London, the octogenarian double bassist is indeed a sharp and sprightly presence. Next door in the dining room, resting on a stand, is his constant companion for his past near-seven decades of playing: the Gand bass (built in 1860) that he bought in 1954, aged 15, for a fiver, and named Victoria.

When the MOJO photographer suggests lying the antique bass lengthways on two chairs to get a particular shot, your worr yingly clumsy writer is ner vously entr usted with cradling the instr ument’s neck. “So happy that you didn’t strangle Vickie,” Thompson jokes after wards in his chewy Cockney tones.

Close-up, the double bass bears some interesting scars, the evidence of years of being played by Thompson both on-stage and on key records by – deep breath – Alexis Korner, Pentangle, Donovan, The Incredible String Band, Tim Buckley, Nick Drake, Rod Stewart, T. Rex, Kate Bush, David Sylvian, Talk Talk, Richard Thompson, The Blind Boys Of Alabama, Peter Gabriel and Paul Weller.

MOJO that Thompson’s life and career were ripe for examination in these pages. And what a life it has been (so far). But if his CV reads like a who’s who of British and American music, there is little evidence here in his home of Thompson’s occupation. He doesn’t even have any basic recording equipment. “Nah, ’cos ever yone’s got a studio now,” he points out.

In his office, however, there are a few choice items of memorabilia on the walls: a framed panoramic photo of the crowd at the third Isle Of Wight festival in 1970 where Pentangle appeared on a bill headlined by Jimi Hendrix; a painting of Victoria (later rendered in stained glass) by Scottish artist Alec Galloway that also features an image of the bassist with his greatest musical foil and old (sometimes literal) sparring partner, John Martyn.

Today, Thompson will talk to MOJO for close to three hours: a great, animated raconteur who’s seen and done it all. Although rooted in blues and jazz, he was clearly no musical snob – his ’60s credits include playing on the original Thunderbirds theme tune in 1965 and Cliff Richard’s ’68 Eurovision runner-up, Congratulations.

“Well, what else would I be doing… working in a factor y or something?” he grins.

“I love playing and getting paid for it. At one stage, I was with Alexis Korner, Pentangle and doing Ronnie Scott’s. You can’t get more non-prejudicial than that.”

Away from music, Thompson is honest about the emotional potholes, bored by alcoholism and depression, he’s negotiated, although today he politely declines to speak on the Islam he has practised since 1990 (“I’d rather tell the whole story later –maybe in a book”). Born in 1939, in Teignmouth, Devon, he lost the father he never knew during World War II and moved to Battersea, south London with his mother, who worked hard as a cleaner but remained a remote presence.

“When I think back, I didn’t have any love as a kid,” he says. “I never had a cuddle. You got lost in your music. It just takes you away from ever ything…”

What was the first music you heard that really grabbed you?

Blues. Big Bill Broonzy was my real favourite.I was only a 12-year-old. I mean, that was unheard of. Kids were listening to Frankie Laine and stuff like that. The first record I ever bought was Sonny Terry, Train Whistle Blues.

And then 500 years later, they’re asking me to go on the road with them, Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee. I mean, there’s lots of stories about my life that are like that.