At last: success for Fleetwood Mac!
Finally my sputtering deep dive into the enduring work of the late Christine McVie has reached its crucial turning point, the classic that ushered in new hires Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham for the 10th lineup of this revolving-door talent collective, not even a decade old by the summer of ‘75, when their own self-titled ‘White Album’ debuted. With it came the longest lasting, most influential, scene-shapingly famous form of what remains an endlessly amorphous entity.
If you’re just joining this retelling: By the end of ‘74 the band had relocated to California for a fresh start yet was splintering all over again. Mick Fleetwood went looking for new blood — and found it in an overlooked duo known by their surnames. Buckingham impressed him most, but he wouldn’t join unless his recording partner and then-lover could come along too.
Best deal of the ‘70s. Maybe in all of rock history.
Adding another collapsing couple to an increasingly volatile mix already spiked by an alcoholic marriage on the rocks may seem unwise to rational minds, but it’s an almost surefire recipe for boundary-busting brilliance. So much more of that surfaces on the next monolith in the FM library, surpassing strides made here.
Yet what strides! Stevie’s witchy ‘Rhiannon’ and delicate ‘Landslide’; Lindsey’s fretwork precision and penchant for galloping melodies like ‘Monday Morning’ and ‘World Turning’; above all Christine’s contributions, from her counterpoint holler on that last piece to four superb songs, two of which — ‘Over My Head’ and ‘Say You Love Me’ — were not only better than anything she’d created before, they rank alongside the greatest material this bunch ever cut.
Here are three other oft-forgotten details: 1) Stevie has no other spotlights; 2) all the hits as heard on radio were different mixes than those on this album; and 3) this seven-times-platinum staple wasn’t a hit right away, entering the Billboard chart in Aug. ‘75 but not topping it until Sept. ‘76. That’s what relentless touring buys you.
‘We kicked that album in the ass,’ Stevie said years later.
Might as well have renamed themselves Tenacious Mac.
Here’s a fourth oft-forgotten factoid about an album now commonly perceived as an instant smash: the first UK single was Christine’s ‘Warm Ways,’ a dreamy paean to all-night lovin’ and impenetrable embraces that plays like a tenderly lustful lullaby. It bombed.