Side 1
1. Gone With The Mouse 4:59
2. A Tiny Book 8:03
3. Another Nail 6:57

Side 2
1. Shoes And Ships 6:14
2. The Nothing Song 8:23
3. Me And My Kite 2:34
4. Just Anyone 3:33

This album was a mystery to me for a long time. Bought on a whim from a London record shop, the CD (an unofficial release mastered from vinyl) appealed to me because the enigmatic lady staring out of the front cover suggested folk, while the mere seven tracks suggested prog, so that was two boxes ticked already. I’d become accustomed to picking up forgotten folk albums from the early 70s and being content that amidst the bland cover versions and tendencies towards tweeness there would be one or two standout tracks which made the purchase worthwhile. But not only was this album by Fuchsia extremely good all the way through, it was also highly original, creating a sound which could be termed progfolkorchrock. When it finally got a proper CD reissue on the Nightwings label, complete with booklet containing the full story behind the band, it was as momentous for me as finally learning the identity of the musicians behind The Wicker Man soundtrack. Fuchsia was the project of Tony Durant, a musician who had previously played in bands with Chris Cutler and who was interested in creating long form songs that moved away from standard verse/chorus formula, with strings that were fully integrated into the structure of the song rather than added as an afterthought. He found a sympathetic producer in David Hitchcock, whose previous credits included Jan Dukes de Grey and Caravan and was about to helm such prog and folk classics as Genesis’ ‘Foxtrot’ and Mellow Candle’s ‘Swaddling Songs’. There are hints of both these in ‘Fuchsia’, but with a rockier edge that may make the album more palatable to those who quake at the words ‘Supper’s’ and ‘Ready’. There is also an imperfection to the sound quality, even on the official reissue, which gives the music a home-made quality, despite the astute choice of producer. Notably, the other two releases that month on the Pegasus label were Shirley Collins & The Albion Country Band’s ‘No Roses’ and the debut album by Nazareth. Again it is tempting to place Fuchsia somewhere in between the two.

The album sets out its stall perfectly with first song ‘Gone With The Mouse’, which sounds like a medley of all the best bits from a whole album condensed into one 5‑minute track. The opening riff has an immediate prog feel, but its fiddly time signature comes more from a folk tradition than an attempt to be clever clever. The cellos give a hint of the Electric Light Orchestra project which Roy Wood and Jeff Lynne were on the verge of foisting upon the world, but again the overall sound is distanced from this association by its folkish tendencies. There is a gaucheness to Tony Durant’s public school vocals which some may find a sticking point, but to me is part of the appeal as it provides a useful contrast to the seeming complexity of the music. I can’t help visualising Talbot, the hapless hero of Stephen Weeks’ strange 1974 film Ghost Story, as the singer. An obscure reference, I admit, but an apt one, as both that film and this album have a unique texture that comes from being the work of a talented amateur rather than a seasoned hack. This is an album that isn’t content to stay in one place for too long and a mere minute into this first song the stumbling introductory waltz gives way to a gentler mood as the female string section chime in with haunting choirgirl vocals before picking up their violins and playing a delightful classical motif. The guitars and drums return, taking the strings with them into a spirited instrumental section, punctuated with lovely vocal harmonies from the girls and Durant himself. It isn’t until 3’30 that the song finally gets back on track with a belated return to the opening melody, which has acquired greater resonance thanks to the scenic route taken on the way. A repeat of the choirgirl chorus brings this excellent opening song to a melancholy close.

‘A Tiny Book’ is an 8 minute piece in three parts, beginning with a 3½ minute folk pop song with strings reminiscent of Paul Buckmaster’s arrangements for early Elton John, and punchy drumming on the chorus. Again the frequent changes in dynamics and time signature give the song a proggy feel, but it is always to serve the song rather than to demonstrate musical dexterity. A sudden increase in tempo takes the song into its more repetitive middle section, with Durant (I think) providing his own falsetto backing vocals that reverb hauntingly in the right channel of the mix. The strings take the lead for the instrumental final third, playing call and response with each other before the whole thing concludes with a flourish.

‘Another Nail’ is also essentially a short song stretched out by the addition of extended instrumental sections, but again the apparent ‘padding’ is more than justified. Fading in on eerie scraped violin strings, the song is then content to do away with all pretensions of complexity and ride for three minutes on the chords to ‘Dear Mr Fantasy’ (and hundreds of others). The song when it comes is well worth the wait, with an exciting increase in tempo accentuating the insistence of the vocal. Gentler moments alternate with rocking two chord riffs before the scraping violins take it all back to a brief reprise of the opening riff and a fade out.

Second side opener ‘Shoes and Ships’ has a delicate Nick Drake melody, reciprocated by strings that could have come straight off Bryter Later, heading again into Buckmaster territory for the extended instrumental middle section. It’s a lovely song which for once resists going off at tangents until it reaches a simple acoustic guitar and cello coda, a moment of calm before the mad rush of the album’s longest song and, for me, its highlight.

‘The Nothing Song’ commences with rumbling guitars and drums answered by sweeping strings, producing the sort of music that might accompany footage of a storm at sea. Military drums carry ominous acoustic guitar chords which play through twice so that the strings can add the single note that runs through the changes. The mood thus established, it all kicks into gear with a fabulous orchestral jig which will provide the hook upon which this lengthy composition is hung. The song itself is relatively simple, lyrically admitting to being about nothing in particular and plainly inspired by the nonsense verse of Lear and Carroll, but is so full of hooks and tricks that it doesn’t feel a second too long. Folky and rocky in equal measures, it is reminiscent of Fairport Convention at their electric best, but with a progressive rock edge. Durant offsets his plummy vocals with sinister whispered passages, most effective on the drawn out delivery of the word ‘.…eyes.…’ There is a looseness to the playing which gives the song an organic feel across its entire length despite being tightly arranged. An out-and-out classic, and the finest psychedelic hoedown since ‘Phallus Dei’. 

By way of contrast ‘Me and My Kite’ couldn’t be more lightweight, but it is a charming piece of childlike whimsy – Syd Barrett’s ‘Bike’ without the psychotic edge. One could imagine a more commercially-minded record label having released this as an unrepresentative single. Harmonium and acoustic guitar provide the perfect background for this regression to childhood, with a chorus (‘Me and my kite, we’re alright/Don’t worry, we’re very busy’) which is just on the right side of twee. There is a haiku-like succinctness to the verses, for example: ‘I went to school on Monday/Got a job Tuesday/I got lost/Looking for work I’m not’. The strings add a sweet sugar coating which somehow doesn’t over egg the pudding.

Final song ‘Just Anyone’ is also relatively brief, built on a bass riff which sounds like Genesis trying to keep things simple for a change. There is a hint of Pink Floyd in the chorus, and not just because of the slide guitar. The lack of strings make this a relatively unadorned but intriguing closing song which seems to fade out before it has really made an impression, leaving the listener wanting more, the only solution to which is to play the whole album again. It is the sort of album which stands up to repeated plays, partly because the unassuming vocals give the sense that not everything is being given away in one go, but also because of the attention to detail which rewards many a return visit.

Tony Durant is now based in Sydney, Australia, but has apparently been suitably inspired by the belated interest in this album to begin work on a follow up.