“Full House” Album Description:
“Full House” (1970): Fairport’s lean, electric folk engine at full tilt
When “Full House” arrived in 1970, Fairport Convention had shed both Sandy Denny and founder Ashley Hutchings, tightened to a quintet, and doubled down on an electrified take on British tradition. The new core—Richard Thompson, Simon Nicol, Dave Pegg, Dave Mattacks, with Dave Swarbrick as fiddle-singer foil—made a record that feels live-wired: brisk dances, slow-burn drama, and arrangements that treat centuries-old tunes like fresh rock material.
Line-up and intent
Richard Thompson steers the melodies and mood; Simon Nicol is the glue on electric/acoustic guitars; Dave Pegg brings melodic bass and mandolin; and Dave Mattacks adds precision drums (plus harmonium/bodhrán) that let Swarbrick’s fiddle and Thompson’s guitar spar and intertwine. This is the first Fairport studio album without a female vocalist, and the band turns that shift into a focused, instrumental-forward attack.
Recording & production
Cut at Sound Techniques, London, produced by Joe Boyd and engineered by John Wood, the album sounds crisp and roomy. Jigs and reels have pub-floor spring, while “Sloth” breathes like a stage jam captured to tape—dynamic, deliberate, and immersive.
Songs & arrangements (highlights)
Walk Awhile opens like a handshake—Thompson and Swarbrick in cheerful counterpoint. Dirty Linen stitches a set of reels with surgical snap. Sloth stretches past nine minutes, a haunted slow-burn that became a signature epic. Side two leans deeper into tradition: a tough, story-led Sir Patrick Spens; the multi-part dance medley Flatback Caper; swaggering Doctor of Physick; and the solemn lament Flowers of the Forest.
The “missing track” switch
Originally sequenced to include Poor Will and the Jolly Hangman, the album was altered at the last minute, and some early sleeves were corrected with a blacked-out track list—a collectible quirk that mirrors the urgency of the change.
Why it matters on vinyl
On an Island pink-label pressing, Wood’s engineering and Boyd’s production give each tune air: the reels don’t blur, and “Sloth”’s dynamic arc—soft-to-searing—stays intact. It’s a rare case where rock muscle and village-green repertoire feel not just compatible but necessary companions.
