Fat Dog

Fat Dog’s particular brand of chaos seems a fine antidote to the remains of pent-up lockdown frustration. The collective scream has found a mouth; the potential energy has been activated. Joe’s singing, his words slurred and distorted in the time-honoured tradition of delta bluesmen, melds to Jazz’s wordless vocals, high and keening like some punk banshee princess, equal parts Grace Slick and Yoko Ono.