Dodson & Fogg
Album: Dodson & Fogg
Label: Wisdom Twins
Tracks: 12
Website: http://www.wisdomtwinsbooks.weebly.com

Essentially a vehicle for the songwriting of twenty-something Chris Wade (who's also known for an audiobook he recently co-authored with Rik Mayall), the illogically-named Dodson & Fogg is actually not a duo at all. Chris is credited with vocals, guitar, bass, keyboards, flute and oh yes, even bongos… while below Chris's name, the disc's decidedly plain inner liner merely lists the remaining contributors in a catch-all "also featuring" category, these being headed by Hawkwind's Nik Turner on flute, with Judy Dyble and Celia Humphris on backing vocals (now there's some names to conjure with!). But their presence is quite minimal, subliminal, while further similarly occasional (but equally highly thoughtful) instrumental embellishment is then provided variously by Skin Alley's Kryzysztof Juszkiewicz (accordion), Alice White (violin) and/or Ellie Davies (cello).

Dodson & Fogg's musical world is heavily reminiscent of the more stripped-down side of early-70s singer-songwriter underground folk-rock, with names like Tudor Lodge, Amazing Blondel and perhaps Tir Na Nog most readily springing to mind and sometimes echoing Trees but with a more pastoral edge. The retro atmosphere is both pervasive and persuasive; in fact, the overall impact of Dodson & Green is rather like rediscovering one of those lost small-label limited-run LPs by a completely unknown band from the early 70s, finding it worth hearing and deserving of resurrection and reissue but of necessarily specialist or cult interest rather than constituting a significantly earth-shattering new find (if you see what I mean). Band names like Fresh Maggots might eventually spring to mind…

Here, the most effective moments come on tracks like Nothing At All and Endless Sky (with their archetypal electric guitar solos and tinges of classic rock-psychedelia), whereas one can discern something of the whimsy of early Tull on Just You And Me, Syd Barrett perhaps on some other tracks, and Say Goodbye (a bit like the ISB circa-Liquid-Acrobat but lyric-wise not as distinguished) and The Slime (which recalls early Kevin Ayers).

It's probably fair to say that, as with those vinyl obscurities I've referenced above, not all the songs within can be heard to measure up to initial promise and at least one or two tracks tend to meander rather than make any significant progress in spite of some attractive ideas. But overall this is a likeable album that grows with repeated play, and proves worth seeking out.

David Kidman