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John Blaney

Dog Howl In Tune


Well strap me to a tree and call me Brenda! They’ve only gone and done it. After years of rumours and the odd interweb leak, Madfish has managed to ‘get it together’ and finally, finally release a very much delayed Vivian Stanshall album of ‘new’ songs. What’s that you say? New songs? Well, not quite, the ginger geezer left us twenty-eight years ago, so they are hardly new. But they are new to us, well most of em. You have to admit, twenty-eight years is quite the wait. Was it worth it? The answer is, yes. Yes, it was very much worth the wait.


This new album of songs, compiled from numerous sources and sessions, is possibly Stanshall’s best. ‘Men Opening Umbrellas Ahead’ is beautifully flawed. While it has its moments, it is the product of someone searching for a musical identity in the aftermath of the Bonzo’s break up. Five years later Stanshall released ‘Teddy Boys Don't Knit’, a more consistent album with some real Stanshall crackers. The compilers of ‘Dog Howl In Tune’ had the advantage of being able to select the best songs from the archive. Some will be familiar. ‘I’d Rather Cut My Hands’ featured in Stanshall’s last television appearance, the rather wonderful ‘Crank’. ‘Landing On My Feet’ was written for Stinkfoot, Stanshall’s English comic opera. Early versions of ‘Gecko’ and ‘Dog Howl In Tune’ escaped and somehow found their way onto the internet. They would have been familiar to those in the know. But placed in the context of this new album, they have somehow gained a certain je ne sais quoi. And isn’t that typical of Stanshall? Vivian might have said they have a new gestalt. And they do.

There really isn’t a bad song on this album. It’s a joy to behold. From start to finish it is full of Stanshallisms. There is Stanshall’s glorious wordplay; tunes that you can hum and that will stick with you like chewing gum on the sole of your favourite pair of brogues, and then there’s the voice. The range is, as always, remarkable. From a basso profundo growl to a light tenor, the quality of Stanshall’s voice is at it’s very best. This is remarkable, because all the producers had to work with was what Stanshall left behind. There could be no re-takes. It is what it is, and what it is is very good.


The compilers/producers of this album deserve our thanks. John Megginson, who got the ball rolling, Andy Frizell and Michael Livesley have done an excellent job refining, honing, and jollying along the recordings. As is the way with such projects, the songs were left in various stages of completion. Some have received sympathetic ‘sweetening’ which has given the album the kind of sonic consistency that simply wouldn’t have existed without so much time, effort and love being lavished on it. They have worked with Stanshall’s best interests at heart and it shows. Had Stanshall been around to hear it, he would have been rightly proud. This is an album that you will revisit frequently. It is an album to savour and enjoy. It’s not as if we have much to remember him by. Be honest, we would have been happy with whatever we could get our grubby little hands on. What we have been given is beyond our wildest dreams. As Stanshall said of his old boss, Tony Stratton-Smith, his dictum was simple, “anything good of its kind”. ‘Dog Howl In Tune’ is just that. It would be rude to consider it anything less.   




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