In 1976, Tymon was charged with ‘intending to busk’ in the London Underground and, refusing to accept the charges, landed himself in court where he was subsequently awarded £300 for assault by a police officer. He used these funds to produce 500 copies of his first full-length solo album TYMON DOGG (aka OUTLAW NO.1). Tymon plays all instruments including Piano, Violin, Guitar, Viola, Cello, Mandolin, Harmonica, Glockenspiel, Harmonium, Shawm, and Cymbal. Several tracks on this album contain some of the strangest vocals Tymon has recorded, and like his other albums it does take quite a few plays to really get into - which is never a bad thing.

"The opening instrumental, “Firefishes”, sounds like the opening overture from some Romanian mega-opera. But it’s not until he starts to sing that things get really weird. His voice is like a cross between Jilted John and Marc Bolan with a constant tremor of uncertainty that keeps you on the edge of your seat. His songs conform to no pattern, his arrangements carry no traditional logic, so his music has a flavour entirely of it’s own. “Get Your Hands Off Me” could easily be a straight blues howler but it comes out as some kind of jerky buskers rap. Similarly, “Safeway People” might be a punk anthem in less discriminating hands, and the compulsive “Locks & Bolts & Hinges” might one day turn up as a straight pop song. The thing easily obscured by the craziness is that Dogg is a brilliant songwriter. His songs – frequently vitriolic, always stinging – are nervy and uneasy and not always coherent. Occasionally they even submit to trivia (“Brandy Love”) but to counter that there’s “Once You Know”, which appears, modestly, to debate the meaning of love, and would be outstanding on any level. It’s well supported by the deeply moving “Legal Thief” and the harrowing title track. Though the most potent song of all is “Sirens”, which is written from a stance of disillusionment over the robbery of innocence and the domination of greed and war. It’s the sort of song that makes you want to storm out of the house and kick the nearest capitalist. Play it a hundred times and the revelations will continue to flood out of it. It almost compensates for the drivel like ABC and Duran Duran that we’ve had to endure for most of the year. Almost." - Colin Irwin (©1982, NME).