And Now It's All This !: The Ultimate Nick Drake Rarity?

How did an impossibly rare Nick Drake vinyl LP turn up in a tiny Australian outback town? Stuart Penney tells the story.

Nick Drake’s records have always been somewhat elusive. In fact, until the digital age arrived, and music became freely available to all, his vinyl LPs were invariably hard to find and generally quite expensive, too, even as reissues. Why was this? Let’s put it down to that old cliché supply and demand. Except, unfortunately for Nick the demand didn't arrive while he was around to enjoy it.

In July 1969 his debut Five Leaves Left was released to modest interest from the folk music community, but widespread indifference from the general record buying public. Initial sales of that LP can only be described as woeful. I’ve heard it said that just 400 copies of the first pressing of FLL were sold in the weeks after release. That number sounds a little low even for the most willfully obscure niche artist and I’d guess a couple of thousand copies is probably closer to the mark, certainly during Nick’s lifetime. But then, on the other hand, that low figure could explain the crazy prices we see today, with pink label original copies regularly changing hands for £1,000 or more online.

Poor sales notwithstanding, Five Leaves Left had one important thing in its favour: it was on the Island label. Since diversifying from Jamaican music and soul into white boy prog, psych, blues and folk around 1967, it’s probably fair to say Island had released barely a bad album. Just about everything on Chris Blackwell’s label was worthy of investigation back then and Nick’s debut surely gained a following wind from groundbreaking releases by his Island stable mates John Martyn, Traffic, Jethro Tull, Free, King Crimson, Cat Stevens and the rest, even if it didn’t necessarily translate into sales. If any UK record company could lay claim to the handle “trademark of quality” at that time, surely it was Island.

Sales wise, Drake’s final two records Bryter Layter (1971) and Pink Moon (1972) fared little better than his first and a reluctance to play live certainly didn’t help matters. To his credit Blackwell refused to delete the albums despite the poor sales. Then, following Nick’s death in 1974, the Island boss vowed that the three LPs would remain on catalogue as long as he had a say in the matter.

All of which brings us to my own copy of Five Leaves Left. Although I never owned a first pressing of the LP in 1969, I knew people who did, and we fell in love with Nick’s hypnotic songs, unique guitar style and his voice like warm molasses. Robert Kirby’s haunting string arrangements on four tracks were the icing on a delicious cake.

Naturally, as fully paid-up wannabe “heads” my pals and I were also acutely aware of the nudge-nudge nature of the album title. It was a reference to the insert found towards the end of each packet of Rizla cigarette rolling papers, warning users they had “only five leaves left.” Despite being scarcely able to stump up enough cash for a ten-bob deal between us, this surreptitious reefer reference made us feel like we were somehow part of Nick’s impossibly hip gang.

I watched over the years as those early, original Nick Drake vinyl LPs rocketed in value, even after the CDs became available. It seemed that a combination of the always collectible Island label and the desire to own an original piece of Nick’s legend had driven prices into the stratosphere. How we wished we’d had the foresight (or, indeed, the wherewithal) to buy a dozen copies in 1969.

By the mid-80s I was living in Western Australia and had started my own second-hand record store, stocked with thousands of LPs I brought over from London. As luck would have it, 1985 was the perfect time to open such an enterprise in Australia. Collectable records were starting to become big business in Britain, with Record Collector magazine taking its first faltering steps and record fairs popping up everywhere. But the boom had yet to take off down under, especially in the sleepy west coast city of Perth. So, for a few years I had the rare vinyl field almost to myself, especially as so many people started to jettison their LPs in favour of the newfangled CD format.

One day I received a call asking if I would be interested in buying a large record collection. The LPs were located about a two-hour drive east of Perth in a small country town with a population of (according to Wikipedia) just 725. It transpired that following a divorce, the owner had moved to the east coast a decade earlier, locking up the house and its contents. Now he had decided it was time to sell up.

I was given the keys by his ex-wife and drove out to take a look. The scene which greeted me was like something from a Stephen King movie. The house looked virtually abandoned. The electricity was disconnected, so the place was dark and gloomy, with everything covered in a decade’s worth of dust and cobwebs.

The furniture was old and threadbare and there were torn and dirty bedsheets covering the windows as makeshift curtains. And there, taking up all available floor space in every room (bathroom, toilet and an outbuilding included) were thousands upon thousands of records. When I counted them later it turned out there were around 8,000 LPs and almost as many singles. It took three trips with two cars and a box trailer to take them all back to Perth over a couple of weekends (see photo below). It was the kind of score every record dealer dreams of.

I won’t bore you with too many details of the collection, but you name it, and it was probably there: all the early UK Elvis LPs on HMV, both unfeasibly rare Blossom Toes albums and clean original copies of every conceivable 60s collectible album, including items by the Artwoods, Davy Graham, the Zombies and countless more besides. And there, almost unnoticed amid the tsunami of rare and desirable items was a UK copy of Five Leaves Left.

Apart from a few dozen choice items which I still have, I sold most of the collection over the years. But I kept the Nick Drake LP simply because it wasn’t in the best of condition. For a start the sleeve was in two halves, so I assumed it was damaged and therefore unsaleable. That was not the case, but thankfully I didn’t know any better at the time.

It proved to be a good move because since then it’s been identified as an advance promo copy of Five Leaves Left sent out to reviewers and the like with the sleeve (front and back) in two separate pieces, or “slicks,” which are slightly taller than normal. Other differences include the Island box logo and catalogue number on the back cover. This appears in black on all regular released copies but is printed in green ink here and is the only known Island release to use this colour typeface.

The matrix number in the runout grooves is also the lowest one ever seen for this release:

Side One: ILPS 9105 A//2 111. Side Two: ILPS 9105 B//2 113

On side one the tracks “Day Is Done” and “Way To Blue” are reversed on the label and sleeve. The album actually plays “Way to Blue” followed by “Day is Done.” On subsequent pressings this error was corrected on the label, if not the sleeve.

On my copy the pink Island label (with its Witchseason logo) has faded almost to white. Whether it was always like this or has faded due to exposure to the sun, I can’t say.

So, what I initially thought was a damaged and virtually worthless item was in fact correct and incredibly rare. I’ve no idea how many were made like this, but I’ve only ever seen a handful for sale online, so I’d estimate no more than 50 copies were produced.

As I write (January 2024), only one copy of this item is currently for sale on Discogs with an eye-watering asking price of £6,000. That figure may seem crazy and who knows if it will even sell at that price. But such is the collectability of Nick Drake and the pink Island label today I'm sure it will find a good home eventually.

Would I part with my copy? Well, I do also have back-ups in the form of the CD and an early 70s vinyl pressing on the Island pink rim palm tree label (even that is a £150 item in nice condition), so yes, I probably could live without the original. Maybe I should take it on Antiques Roadshow, assuming their pop culture expert has even heard of Nick, that is. But then again, perhaps I’ll hold onto it a while longer and see where the price ends up five years from now.