"All Together Now" is a song by British band the Farm, released in November 1990 as the second single from their debut album, Spartacus (1991). Peter Hooton wrote the lyrics in his early 20s, after reading about the Christmas truce of 1914. The song was first recorded under the title "No Man's Land" for a John Peel session in 1983. In 1990, Hooton wrote the chorus after Steve Grimes suggested putting the lyrics of "No Man's Land" to the chord progression of Pachelbel's Canon. To shorten the song for radio, the producer Suggs cut the song to three verses from its original six. Its accompanying music video received heavy rotation on MTV Europe. "All Together Now" has been used by numerous football teams since, as well as by the Labour Party for their 2017 general election campaign, often played during rallies. Composition and release The song was produced by Suggs, a founding member of the band Madness, and recorded at Mayfair Studios. The lyrics were written about the Christmas Day Truce in World War I where, on Christmas Day 1914, soldiers from both sides put their weapons down, and met in no mans land to exchange gifts and play football. The song has a chord sequence taken directly from Johann Pachelbel's "Canon". It was originally released on 26 November 1990 peaking at No. 4 on the UK Singles Chart, No. 1 on the NME Independent chart and No. 7 on the U.S. Billboard Modern Rock Tracks chart. Its single cover showed a Subbuteo figure wearing an army uniform and brandishing a Bren machine gun. It was also the last video shown on The Power Station on 8 April 1991. Critical reception Stephen Thomas Erlewine from AllMusic called "All Together Now" "goofily endearing" and "truly memorable". Larry Flick from American magazine Billboard declared it as "anthemic". A reviewer from Daily Mirror named it one of 1990's "most memorable songs" and "such a catchy song". Jon Wilde from Melody Maker wrote, "1990 has seen the inexplicable rise of The Ordinary Bloke. They don't come any more ordinary than the Farm, who look for all the world like a collection of bit actors in Northern soap operas, the kind of geezers you find hanging about by the pub dart-board scoffing salt and vinegar crisps as burly Betty Turpin types fetch hither mixers from the cellar. Their 15 seconds of minor celebrity will surely