The Fairport Convention Archive
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Are you on the wrong side of 40? Did you take even a fleeting interest in what was then termed ``Underground" rock music as a teenager? If so, then there's a very strong chance
that you've owned at least one copy of ``You Can All Join In" at some point during the last 25 years. Along with ``Nice Enough To Eat" and Liberty's splendid ``Gutbucket" compilation, this was among the first - and certainly one of
the best - of the many sampler albums which began to appear at the tail-end of the 60's. Offering stunning value for money for around 14s 6d / 72p for twelve tracks (a full-price LP retailed for around 32s 11d / £1.65), YCAJI and
its ilk provided a low-cost opportunity to hear tried and tested music from Island's premier league of bands (Tull, Traffic, Free etc.), and also enabled interested parties to check out some of the kick-and-run merchants down at
the Beazer Homes end of the scale (Tramline, Wynder k. Frog, etc.) at considerably less financial risk. The Americans, in typical advertising agency speak, called these samplers `Loss Leaders' and invariably flogged them
mail-order for a Dollar apiece via the inner sleeves of early 70's albums. Britain, however, having a more manageable wholesale distribution network (not to mention far less aggressive marketing techniques), sold them over the
counter. The principle, however, was exactly the same: after being initially attracted to the sampler by one or more of the big names on offer, you'd be so impressed by some of the lesser-known bands that you'd immediately rush out
and buy one of their albums at full-price. That was the theory anyhow. Almost as important as the music in this case, of course, was that distinctive and much discussed ``YCAJI" sleeve. Many have tried, but to our knowledge, none
has ever succeeded in correctly naming everyone pictured on the cover. One spectacular failure worthy of note was Patrick Campbell-Lyons' pitiful effort in the debut issue of `Mojo' magazine. Considering the Nirvana mainman was
actually present at the time (he's the P.J Proby lookalike at No.9), his attempt was laughably incorrect (9 wrong out of 27) So who exactly was present on that fateful morning in 1969, when the cream of Island's roster gathered
in Hyde Park? By referring to the accompanying diagram and key, everyone on the cover can be identified quickly, simply and - more importantly - accurately. A word, however, regarding those musicians partially visible on the
extreme left of the sleeve. Above Chris Mercer's head (No.23) can be seen a brown coat collar, together with a similarly-coloured clump of hair. These belong to (a then considerably more hirsute) Richard Thompson (No.13) - and NOT
Paul Kossoff as is sometimes claimed. Now, go up still further and immediately above Thompson's head, directly to the left of Neil Hubbard (No.2), can be seen a small amount of darker hair of almost Brillo Pad-like texture. Sadly,
this is all that is visible of original Jethro Tull tub-thumper Clive Bunker (No.1) There has, over the years, been much speculation as to who was positioned out of camera range further to the left. Various names have been
mooted, including John Martyn (possible), Blodwyn Pig (unlikely), and King Crimson (Extremely unlikely indeed, since they weren't even signed to Island at this point!). No, it's far more likely that these stragglers were the
remaining members of Spooky Tooth, along with, possibly, various representatives from Tramline. Paul Kossoff, meanwhile, the only member of Free not accounted for, was probably safely tucked up in his Portabello Mews bed at
that hour of the morning. Then, there's the sorry tale of nearly-man Ian A. Anderson (he's the bearded, bespectacled, fur-coated figure at No.16 who was dropped from the label, without a release to his name, shortly
thereafter). If his `Mojo' account of how he lost his contract is to be believed, the erstwhile folk blues practitioner (now editor of `Folk Roots' magazine) was unceremoniously given the bum's rush due to an unfortunate clash of
names with a certain similarly-monikered Jethro Tull frontman. Stranger things have happened, admittedly, but Ian A's version of events does sound just a little paranoid. Look out for a small discrepancy on early issues of
``YCAJI": although all sleeves carry the full, correct catalogue number (IWPS2), first variation Pink Label copies actually appeared as IWP2. Although this reads like a mono number, both versions are in full stereo. The anomaly was
corrected on later pressings.
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